e colonel; and the aunt was pleased to observe that if the manners of
Egerton had more of the gloss of life, those of Denbigh were certainly
distinguished by a more finished delicacy and propriety. The one appeared
the influence of custom and association, with a tincture of artifice; the
other, benevolence, with a just perception of what was due to others, and
with an air of sincerity, when speaking of sentiments and principles, that
was particularly pleasing to the watchful widow. At times, however, she
could not but observe an air of restraint, if not of awkwardness, about
him that was a little surprising. It was most observable in mixed society,
and once or twice her imagination pictured his sensations into something
like alarm. These unpleasant interruptions to her admiration were soon
forgotten in her just appreciation of the more solid parts of his
character, which appeared literally to be unexceptionable; and when
momentary uneasiness would steal over her, the remembrance of the opinion
of Dr. Ives, his behavior with Jarvis, his charity, and chiefly his
devotion to her niece, would not fail to drive the disagreeable thoughts
from her mind. Emily herself moved about, the image of joy and innocence.
If Denbigh were near her, she was happy; if absent, she suffered no
uneasiness. Her feelings were so ardent, and yet so pure, that jealousy
had no admission. Perhaps no circumstances existed to excite this usual
attendant of the passion; but as the heart of Emily was more enchained
than her imagination, her affections were not of the restless nature of
ordinary attachments, though more dangerous to her peace of mind in the
event of an unfortunate issue. With Denbigh she never walked or rode
alone. He had never made the request, and her delicacy would have shrunk
from such an open manifestation of her preference; but he read to her and
her aunt; he accompanied them in their little excursions; and once or
twice John noticed that she took the offered hand of Denbigh to assist her
over any little impediment in their course, instead of her usual
unobtrusive custom of taking his arm on such occasions. "Well, Miss
Emily," thought John, "you appear to have chosen another favorite," on her
doing this three times in succession in one of their walks. "How strange
it is women will quit their natural friends for a face they have hardly
seen." John forgot his own--"There is no danger, dear Grace," when his
sister was almost dead with ap