"That was for him," said Georgiana, hastily. "I am sure that no man has
stood in such a position as he did. To see a man made publicly ashamed,
and bearing it. I have never had to endure so painful a sight."

"To stand between two women, claimed by both, like Solomon's babe! A man
might as well at once have Solomon's judgement put into execution upon
him. You wept for him! Do you know, Georgey, that charity of your sex,
which makes you cry at any 'affecting situation,' must have been
designed to compensate to us for the severities of Providence."

"No, Merthyr;" she arrested his raillery. "Do I ever cry? But I
thought--if it had been my brother! and almost at the thought I felt the
tears rush at my eyelids, as if the shame had been mine."

"The probability of its not being your brother seemed distant at the
moment," said Merthyr, with his half-melancholy smile. "Tell me--I can
conjure up the scene: but tell me whether you saw more passions than one
in her face?"

"Emilia's? No. Her face reminded me of the sombre--that dull glow of a
fire that you leave burning in the grate late on winter nights. Was that
natural? It struck me that her dramatic instinct was as much alive as
her passion."

"Had she been clumsy, would you not have been less suspicious of her?
And if she had only shown the accustomed northern retenue, and merely
looked all that she had to say 'preserved her dignity'--our womanly
critic would have been completely satisfied."