to him as he
entered: Falkland stooped to kiss him; and Mrs. St. John said, in a
low voice which just reached his ear, "Judas, too, kissed before he
betrayed." Falkland's colour changed: he felt the sting the words were
intended to convey. On that child, now so innocently caressing him, he
was indeed about to inflict a disgrace and injury the most sensible and
irremediable in his power. But who ever indulges reflection in passion?
He banished the remorse from his mind as instantaneously as it arose;
and, seating himself by Emily, endeavoured to inspire her with a portion
of the joy and hope which animated himself. Mrs. St. John watched them
with a jealous and anxious eye: she had already seen how useless had
been her former attempt to arm Emily's conscience effectually against
her lover; but she resolved at least to renew the impression she had
then made. The danger was imminent, and any remedy must be prompt; and
it was something to protract, even if she could not finally break off,
an union against which were arrayed all the angry feelings of jealousy,
as well as the better affections of the friend. Emily's eye was already
brightening beneath the words that Falkland whispered in her ear, when
Mrs. St. John approached her. She placed herself on a chair beside them,
and unmindful of Falkland's bent and angry brow, attempted to create a
general and commonplace conversation. Lady Margaret had invited two or
three people in the neighbourhood; and when these came in, music and
cards were resorted to immediately, with that English politesse, which
takes the earliest opportunity to show that the conversation of our
friends is the last thing for which we have invited them. But Mrs. St.
John never left the lovers; and at last, when Falkland, in despair
at her obstinacy, arose to join the card-table, she said, "Pray, Mr.
Falkland, were you not intimate at one time with * * * *, who eloped
with Lady * * *?" "I knew him but slightly," said Falkland; and then
added, with a sneer, "the only times I ever met him were at your house."
Mrs. St. John, without noticing the sarcasm, continued:--"What an
unfortunate affair that proved! They were very much attached to one
another in early life--the only excuse, perhaps for a woman's breaking
her subsequent vows. They eloped. The remainder of their history is
briefly told: it is that of all who forfeit everything for passion, and
forget that of everything it is the briefest in duration. He who