After this novel and interesting ceremony had concluded, we returned to a most bountiful dinner with the hospitable family of Friend Shove; and soon after bidding our friends "farewell," we proceeded on our journey.
"Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine To joyless dread, or mak'st the loving heart With hateful thoughts to languish and to pine, And feed itself with self-consuming smart; Of all the passions in the mind thou vilest art." SPENSER.
We reached B---- on Tuesday evening, September 22d, where we were cordially welcomed by Mrs. Morgan, a sister of Frank's father. The family consists of Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, and their son Joseph Lenox, named for his uncle. There was also Mrs. Fidelia Schuyler, an orphan niece of aunt Morgan, who had been married but a few months. She is a child of aunt Morgan's brother, who has been deceased many years. As I shall have much to say of her, I will describe her as she presented herself to me at the time. She appeared to be about twenty years of age, with very light flaxen hair, hanging in loose curls at the side of her face. She had blue eyes, and a somewhat fair complexion. At the first glance I thought her a very little like Emily in expression; but afterwards wondered how I could have thought so. Emily's eyes are a splendid gray, fringed with long, black lashes, and her hair is the darkest shade of auburn, like Frank's.
Fidelia received me cordially enough; as I was a stranger, I could not expect she would be as glad to see me as she was to see her own cousin. I felt almost hurt that Frank did not more fully reciprocate her joy at their meeting. There was a perfect fascination to me about this young bride. She was constantly changing like the colors and figures in a kaleidoscope. Sometimes she would introduce conversation with the Doctor upon politics, and really talk very sensibly, so that I felt ashamed that I was ignorant of such subjects. Then she would talk of old times in a manner I did not at all understand. I fancied once or twice that Frank, to whom all this conversation was addressed, looked rather annoyed, and supposed it was in consequence of my listening so closely; I therefore turned to my cousin Joseph. He claimed me as such, before I stepped from the carriage. He is a fine intelligent youth near my own age I should imagine; and though he made many inquiries about his aunt and Emily, which I was occupied in answering, yet I could not wholly withdraw my attention from the cousin near me. Her voice would often drop to so low a key that I could not distinguish the words; but its intonation was soft and languishing, and her whole appearance, to say the least, as she sat upon the sofa with Frank, was certainly _peculiar_. Joseph observed my frequent glances in that direction, and he whispered, "The greatest coquette," motioning with his head towards his cousin, "in the known world."