“The fellow is a ventriloquist,” said Edmund aside to the inquisitive Misses Morven, who seemed never to have heard one before. At the same time, approaching our heroine, he offered her his arm, for she seemed to need support, and he felt, too, secretly delighted by the visible antipathy to the idea of a union with Henry, even in jest, evinced by the countenance and involuntary movements of Julia. Henry, however, drew her other hand over his arm, without even asking her permission.
“Well, Julia!” he said, laughing, “thank heaven, we are married at last, and publicly enough this time,” he added, pretending to lower his voice. “Remember,” he proceeded, again raising it, and again affecting to laugh, “you can never be off, in Scotland, after saying before two witnesses, the awful words—This is my husband!”
“As I never did, however, nor ever shall say so,” commenced Julia. Henry interrupted our heroine, by observing carelessly, “that reminds me of the lady in the play, who swears to her father, never to marry her lover, after she is married to him already.”
This remark, though made with the greatest levity, shocked Edmund more than he was willing to confess, even to himself; not that, at the time, he believed it to allude to any thing more than the folly which had just passed.
“How very funny! how very funny!” said several of the young ladies. “Those sort of jokes are very disagreeable, I think,” said Julia. “Oh, you don’t think it a subject for jesting upon?” observed Henry, not at all disconcerted. “Nor do I, Julia, believe me!” he added, again affecting to lower his voice.
“The part of the juggler is certainly very well sustained,” remarked Frances. “Yes, very well indeed,” said Julia, bowing to the juggler. “The company seem to be almost collected,” she added, “so I think we may now go to the great room, and commence dancing.”
Henry, thinking he had now sufficiently plagued Julia, dropped her arm, and offered his services to two of the Misses Morven. Edmund could not resist the opportunity of turning to our heroine, and saying, in a whisper—“for heaven’s sake, Julia, what does Henry mean?” “He thinks his absurdity wit, I suppose,” she replied, without hesitation. Edmund, at the moment, felt re-assured, by the ready frankness of her manner, though long after, and when new circumstances had arisen, he remembered that the words of her reply were, certainly, very evasive. One of the Misses Morven begged to have her fortune told. The juggler drew the magic circle around her, and then, with his arms folded, stood motionless. The unclaimed damsel looked round to see who was to be her companion. The juggler waved his wand, as though interdicting the approach of any intruder. The spectators began to laugh; and the young lady got out of her solitary sphere, declaring that fortune-telling was a very dull amusement.