'as alien to what I like as Tynedale, Seacombe, the Misses
Seacombe--as the affectionate relative now striding before me? or
is she better than these? Shall I, in conversing with her, feel
free to show something of my real nature; or --' Further
conjectures were arrested by my entrance into the dining-room.

"A lamp, burning under a shade of ground-glass, showed a handsome
apartment, wainscoted with oak; supper was laid on the table; by
the fire-place, standing as if waiting our entrance, appeared a
lady; she was young, tall, and well shaped; her dress was
handsome and fashionable: so much my first glance sufficed to
ascertain. A gay salutation passed between her and Mr.
Crimsworth; she chid him, half playfully, half poutingly, for
being late; her voice (I always take voices into the account in
judging of character) was lively--it indicated, I thought, good
animal spirits. Mr. Crimsworth soon checked her animated
scolding with a kiss--a kiss that still told of the bridegroom
(they had not yet been married a year); she took her seat at the
supper-table in first-rate spirits. Perceiving me, she begged my
pardon for not noticing me before, and then shook hands with me,
as ladies do when a flow of good-humour disposes them to be
cheerful to all, even the most indifferent of their acquaintance.
It was now further obvious to me that she had a good complexion,
and features sufficiently marked but agreeable; her hair was red
--quite red. She and Edward talked much, always in a vein of
playful contention; she was vexed, or pretended to be vexed, that
he had that day driven a vicious horse in the gig, and he made
light of her fears. Sometimes she appealed to me.

"'Now, Mr. William, isn't it absurd in Edward to talk so? He says