Chapter 28 - Page 2

replied Mrs. Wilson,
bitterly, losing her self-command in indignation.

"Oh! do not call him my hero, I beg of you, dear aunt," said Emily,
starting, excited by so extraordinary an allusion, but instantly losing
the unpleasant sensation in the delightful consciousness of the
superiority of the man on whom she had bestowed her own admiration.

"In fact, my child," continued her aunt, "our natures are guilty of the
grossest inconsistencies. The vilest wretch has generally some property or
which he values himself, and the most perfect are too often frail on some
tender point. Long and tried friendships are those only which can be
trusted, and these oftentimes fail."

Emily looked at her aunt in surprise at hearing her utter such unusual
sentiments; for Mrs. Wilson, at the same time she had, by divine
assistance, deeply impressed her niece with the frailty of her nature, had
withheld the disgusting representation of human vices from her view, as
unnecessary to her situation and dangerous to her humility.

After a short pause, Mrs. Wilson continued, "Marriage is a fearful step in
a woman, and one she is compelled, in some measure, to adventure her
happiness on, without fitting opportunities of judging of the merit of the
man she confides in. Jane is an instance in point, but I devoutly hope you
are not to be another."

While speaking, Mrs. Wilson had taken the hand of Emily, and by her looks
and solemn manner she had succeeded in alarming her niece, although
Denbigh was yet furthest from the thoughts of Emily. The aunt reached her
a glass of water, and willing to get rid of the hateful subject she
continued, hurriedly, "Did you not notice the pocket-book Francis gave to
Mr. Denbigh?" Emily fixed her inquiring eyes on her aunt, as the other
added, "It was the one Mrs. Fitzgerald gave me to-day." Something like an
indefinite glimpse of the facts crossed the mind of Emily; and as it most
obviously involved a separation from Denbigh, she sank lifeless into the
extended arms of her aunt. This had been anticipated by Mrs. Wilson, and a
timely application of restoratives soon brought her back to a
consciousness of misery. Mrs. Wilson, unwilling any one but herself should
witness this first burst of grief, succeeded in getting her niece to her
own room and in bed. Emily made no lamentations--shed no tears--asked no
questions--her eye was fixed, and every faculty appeared oppressed with
the load on her heart. Mrs. Wilson knew her situation too well to intrude
with unseasonable consolation or useless reflections, but sat patiently by
her side, waiting anxiously for the moment she could be of service. At
length the uplifted eyes and clasped hands of