She recollected her father's observation in regard to the name he had
given at the inn being an assumed one: his fine commanding person,
his noble countenance, his lordly look, and the taste and fashion of
his dress, all made her for the moment believe that in him she beheld
the person proposed for her future husband. At the same time she
could not forget that he had rendered her an essential service. He
had displayed before her several of those qualities which peculiarly
draw forth the admiration of women--courage, promptitude, daring, and
skill; his conversation had delighted and surprised her; and to say
truth, he had created in her bosom during the short interview, such
prepossessions in his favour, that to her he was the person who now
solicited her hand, instead of the creature which her imagination had
portrayed as Lord Sherbrooke, was no small relief to her heart. It
seemed as if a load was taken off her bosom; and such was the cause
of those emotions, the expression of which upon her countenance we
have already told.

It was not, indeed, that she believed herself the least in love with
Wilton Brown, but she felt that she COULD love him, and that feeling
was quite enough. It was enough, while she fancied that he was Lord
Sherbrooke, to agitate her with joy and hope; and, though the mistake
lasted but a short time, the feelings that it produced were
sufficient to effect a change in all her sensations towards him
through life. During the brief space that the mistake lasted, she
looked upon him, she thought of him, as the man who was to be her
husband. Had it not been for that misunderstanding, the idea of such
an union between herself and him would most likely never have entered
her mind; but once having looked upon him in that light, even for
five minutes, she never could see him or speak to him without a
recollection of the fact, without a reference, however vague,