“I have seen Fitz-Ullin,” said Lord L., as he took his seat at the dinner table, where, for this day, sat his daughters only, “and I like him amazingly!” When the servants had retired, he renewed the subject, by saying, “Fitz-Ullin is just what I should have expected from the son of my old friend.”

Julia listened in breathless expectation, hoping to hear something of Edmund. Frances understood her thoughts, and watched for an opportunity of putting a judicious question.

“On sending up my name,” continued Lord L., “I was instantly admitted. He received me with visible emotion, and said, that had he known of my being in town, he should have waited on me. I told him, of course, that I had but that moment arrived from Cumberland. He is extremely handsome! very like his mother.”

“Did you ask if he knew any thing about Edmund?” enquired Frances. Julia pressed her sister’s hand, under shelter of the table.

“Certainly,” replied Lord L., “indeed, as soon as I had spoken to him of his father, and made some few preliminary remarks, I opened the subject, by inquiring if he could oblige me with Captain Montgomery’s address. He looked somewhat confused, and said, ‘Lord L., I am very desirous to have an opportunity of explaining to you the business to which you allude.’ ‘I have no right to make allusions, my Lord,’ I replied; ‘but’—and I hesitated, ‘newspaper reports are not very satisfactory sources of information; and, it is natural that I should be anxious respecting my young friend. Indeed, at present, I do not know even where to find him.’ ‘You have every right, Lord L.,’ he said, ‘to make inquiries, and to have them answered; you are, not only, the friend of my father, but you and your family have been, the kind, the generous friends, of poor Montgomery, when he most wanted friends; to you every thing shall be explained. At present I am not quite equal to the task; but permit me to call on you to-morrow morning.’ I begged he would dine with me to-day. He however declined, pleading an engagement which rendered that impossible; but saying, ‘that he should be able to get away about ten, (this evening I mean,) when, if I would permit him, he would wait on me, and bring Montgomery with him.’ As he said this he smiled, though certainly with no very gay expression; yet, his smiling at all, was quite sufficient to show that there were no mortal wounds, in short, nothing very fatal, or irremediable, in the business.

“It just occurred to me, that I would let them come, without saying any thing of the ball. The surprise was a liberty, which I thought I might take with the son of an old friend. Let me see,” added Lord L., considering, “it is now some eight or ten months since his father’s death: yet I feared, from the evident depression on his spirits, that he might not be prevailed on to join us, were he aware of the gay scene which awaited him, before he was actually at the door; after which, I should think, he would scarcely turn away.

“It was very plain, that he wished, as much as possible, to avoid all mention of Montgomery; and I did not urge my inquiries, as he means to bring him with him this evening, declaredly for the purpose of some explanation. Indeed, it is clear to me, as I have all along said, that the young men have had some silly quarrel, in which, I can now perceive, Fitz-Ullin believes himself to have been the aggressor. There was a consciousness, a hesitation in his manner: I fancy he means to be vastly heroic this evening, confess himself in fault, and make Montgomery an apology in my presence. But, as I before remarked, there can be nothing very terrible in the affair; for when I asked him how Montgomery was, he answered, ‘Quite well, thank you;’ and smiled again, though languidly. ‘He was not wounded then,’ I ventured to add. ‘Oh, no!’ he replied with quickness. ‘Nor your Lordship, I hope?’ I continued. ‘Why—no,’—he said, after a moment of hesitation. ‘And when you know all,’ he added, ‘you will not suspect me of wishing to injure your friend Montgomery.’

“I saw I was distressing him, so I took my departure, declaring that I entertained no such suspicions.

“Well,” added Lord L., after a momentary pause and a smile, “I trust, from the sadness of the love-stricken youth, that Montgomery has been successful with the fair source of their rivalship; for I have other views for Fitz-Ullin.

“By the bye, I saw three ladies there as I passed a drawing-room, the door of which was half open. Two of them seemed to be in widows’ mourning; and the third, who appeared much younger, wore something black too, I think: but she was so beautiful, that during my momentary glance, I had no leisure to examine her dress. She was standing near the door, and seemed earnestly questioning a person who looked something like a physician. I heard him say, as he was making his exit, ‘You may rest quite satisfied; every dangerous symptom has now disappeared.’ This was as I went in, and before I had seen Fitz-Ullin; so that I expected, of course, to find him in an easy chair and wrapping gown, just recovering from a dangerous wound.”

Then it is Edmund, thought Julia, who is only recovering; and who, perhaps, may not recover after all!

“If that charming creature,” continued Lord L., “was Fitz-Ullin’s fair inamorata, and that he has been rivalled in her good graces, I am not much surprised at his despairing looks: and, certainly, he has not the elastic step, or triumphant eye, of a successful lover. We must contrive to console him, poor fellow.

“In the first place, Julia, I intend that he shall, should he arrive in time, open the ball with you to-night; after which, should he, on longer acquaintance, prove what the son of my immortal friend ought to be, I shall have no objection to his securing your hand for a longer period. Do not look so seriously alarmed, child! I certainly shall not offer it to him. The hand of Lady Julia L. is a prize which may, I think, be sought even by the sole representative of all the honours, hereditary and acquired, of the great Fitz-Ullin! Talking of such things, what did you do to the Marquis of H., to cure him so quickly, and so effectually?”

“Nothing,” replied Julia.

“Yes, you refused him; and that without consulting me.”

“Had I had the least wish to accept him, sir, I should have consulted you,” said Julia, “but—I did not know—that it was of any consequence—if—”

“Well, take care you don’t refuse Fitz-Ullin without consulting me,” said her father. “I have taken quite a fancy to the young man. There is sweetness of disposition, and nobleness of nature, in every expression of his countenance. And, as the son of his father, I should prefer him to the Marquis, brilliant as that connexion would certainly have been. You too, Frances,” he said, turning to her, and putting aside some of the redundant curls that floated on her snowy forehead, “have, I understand, been casting loose the chains of your captives also, without consulting me. We must have a reform in this department of administration; I consider myself entitled to some (perhaps my daughters may think) obsolete privileges in the way of patronage, which, however, I do not mean entirely to waive.—There now, fly and dress yourselves, or you will be late.”

Both the girls having risen from their seats at the word “fly,” hesitated, and approached their father, as if they had wished to say, that they were not quite so undutiful as he imagined. Lord L. seemed to comprehend the manner; for he put an arm round each, and kissed the forehead of each.