Upon his arrival at Annaly, Ormond found that Dr. Cambray and all his family were there.

“Yes, all your friends,” said Lady Annaly, as Ormond looked round with pleasure, “all your friends, Mr. Ormond — you must allow me an old right to be of that number — and here is my son, who is as well inclined, as I hope you feel, to pass over the intermediate formality of new acquaintanceship, and to become intimate with you as soon as possible.”

Sir Herbert Annaly confirmed, by the polite cordiality of his manner, all that his mother promised; adding that their mutual friend Dr. Cambray had made him already so fully acquainted with Mr. Ormond, that though he had never had the pleasure of seeing him before, he could not consider him as a stranger.

Florence Annaly was beautiful, but not one of those beauties who strike at first sight. Hers was a face which neither challenged nor sued for admiration. There was no expression thrown into the eyes or the eyebrows, no habitual smile on the lips — the features were all in natural repose; the face never expressed any thing but what the mind really felt. But if any just observation was made in Miss Annaly’s company, any stroke of genius, that countenance instantly kindled into light and life: and if any noble sentiment was expressed, if any generous action was related, then the soul within illumined the countenance with a ray divine. When once Ormond had seen this, his eye returned in hopes of seeing it again — he had an indescribable interest and pleasure in studying a countenance, which seemed so true an index to a noble and cultivated mind, to a heart of delicate, but not morbid sensibility. His manners and understanding had been formed and improved, beyond what could have been expected, from the few opportunities of improvement he had till lately enjoyed. He was timid, however, in conversation with those of whose information and abilities he had a high opinion, so that at first he did not do himself justice; but in his timidity there was no awkwardness; it was joined with such firmness of principle, and such a resolute, manly character, that he was peculiarly engaging to women.

During his first visit at Annaly he pleased much, and was so much pleased with every individual of the family, with their manners, their conversation, their affection for each other, and altogether with their mode of living, that he declared to Dr. Cambray he never had been so happy in his whole existence. It was a remarkable fact, however, that he spoke much more of Lady Annaly and Sir Herbert than of Miss Annaly.

He had never before felt so very unwilling to leave any place, or so exceedingly anxious to be invited to repeat his visit. He did receive the wished-for invitation; and it was given in such a manner as left him no doubt that he might indulge his own ardent desire to return, and to cultivate the friendship of this family. His ardour for foreign travel, his desire to see more of the world, greatly abated; and before he reached Castle Hermitage, and by the time he saw his guardian, he had almost forgotten that Sir Ulick had traced for him a course of travels through the British islands and the most polished parts of the Continent.

He now told Sir Ulick that it was so far advanced in the season, that he thought it better to spend the winter in Ireland.

“In Dublin instead of London?” said Sir Ulick, smiling; “very patriotic, and very kind to me, for I am sure I am your first object; and depend upon it few people, ladies always excepted, will ever like your company better than I do.”

Then Sir Ulick went rapidly over every subject, and every person, that could lead his ward farther to explain his feelings; but now, as usual, he wasted his address, for the ingenuous young man directly opened his whole heart to him.

“I am impatient to tell you, sir,” said he, “how very kindly I was received by Lady Annaly.”

“She is very kind,” said Sir Ulick: “I suppose, in general, you have found yourself pretty well received wherever you have gone — not to flatter you too much on your mental or personal qualifications, and, no disparagement to Dr. Cambray’s letters of introduction or my own, five or six thousand a~year are, I have generally observed, a tolerably good passport into society, a sufficient passe-partout.” “Passe-partout! — not partout— not quite sufficient at Annaly, you cannot mean, sir —”

“Oh! I cannot mean any thing, but that Annaly is altogether the eighth wonder of the world,” said Sir Ulick, “and all the men and women in it absolutely angels — perfect angels.”

“No, sir, if you please, not perfect; for I have heard — though I own I never saw it — that perfection is always stupid: now certainly that the Annalys are not.”

“Well, well, they shall be as imperfect as you like — any thing to please you.”

“But, sir, you used to be so fond of the Annalys. I remember.”

“True, and did I tell you that I had changed my opinion?”

“Your manner, though not your words, tells me so.”

“You mistake: the fact is — for I always treat you, Harry, with perfect candour — I was hurt and vexed by their refusal of my son. But, after all,” added he, with a deep sigh, “it was Marcus’s own fault — he has been very dissipated. Miss Annaly was right, and her mother quite right, I own. Lady Annaly is one of the most respectable women in Ireland — and Miss Annaly is a charming girl — I never saw any girl I should have liked so much for my daughter-in-law. But Marcus and I don’t always agree in our tastes — I don’t think the refusal there, was half as great a mortification and disappointment to him, as it was to me.”

“You delight me, dear sir,” cried Ormond; “for then I may feel secure that if ever in future — I don’t mean in the least that I have any present thought — it would be absurd — it would be ridiculous — it would be quite improper — you know I was only there ten days; but I mean if, in future, I should ever have any thoughts — any serious thoughts —”

“Well, well,” said Sir Ulick, laughing at Ormond’s hesitation and embarrassment, “I can suppose that you will have thoughts of some kind or other, and serious thoughts in due course; but, as you justly observe, it would be quite ridiculous at present.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” interrupted Harry, “but it would even at present be an inexpressible satisfaction to me to know, that if in future such a thing should occur, I should be secure, in the first place, of your approbation.”

“As to that, my dear boy,” said Sir Ulick, “you know in a few days you will be at years of discretion — then my control ceases.”

“Yes, sir; but not my anxiety for your approbation, and my deference for your opinion.”

“Then,” said Sir Ulick, “and without circumlocution or nonsense, I tell you at once, Harry Ormond, that Florence Annaly is the woman in the world I should like best to see your wife.”

“Thank you, sir, for this explicit answer — I am sure towards me nothing can have been more candid and kind than your whole conduct has ever been.”

“That’s true, Harry,” exclaimed Sir Ulick. “Tell me about this duel — you have fought a duel in defence of my conduct and character, I understand, since I saw you. But, my dear fellow, though I am excessively obliged to you, I am exceedingly angry with you: how could you possibly be so hot-heated and silly as to take up any man for relishing the Ulysseana? Bless ye! I relish it myself — I only laugh at such things: believe me, ’tis The best way.”

“I am sure of it, sir, if one can; and, indeed, I have had pretty good proof that one should despise reports and scandal of all kinds — easier for oneself sometimes than for one’s friends.”

“Yes, my dear Ormond, by the time you have been half as long living in the great and the political world as I have been, you will be quite case-hardened, and will hear your friends abused, without feeling it in the least. Believe me, I once was troubled with a great deal of susceptibility like yours — but after all, ’tis no bad thing for you to have fought a duel — a feather in your cap with the ladies, and a warning to all impertinent fellows to let you alone — but you were wounded, the newspaper said — I asked you where, three times in my letters — you never condescended to answer me — answer me now, I insist upon it.”

“In my arm, sir — a slight scratch.”

“Slight scratch or not, I must hear all about it — come, tell me exactly how the thing began and ended — tell me all the rascals said of me. — You won’t? — then I’ll tell you: they said, ‘I am the greatest jobber in Ireland — that I do not mind how I throw away the public money — in short, that I am a sad political profligate.’— Well! well! I am sure, after all, they did me the justice to acknowledge, that in private life no man’s honour is more to be depended on.”

“They did do you that justice, sir,” said Ormond; “but pray ask me no farther questions — for, frankly, it is disagreeable to me — and I will tell you no more.”

“That’s frank,” said Sir Ulick, “and I as frankly assure you I am perfectly satisfied.”

“Then, to return to the Annalys,” said Ormond, “I never saw Sir Herbert till now — I like him — I like his principles — his love of his country — and his attachment to his family.”

“He’s a very fine fellow — no better fellow than Herbert Annaly. But as for his attachment to his family, who thanks him for that? Who could help it, with such a family? And his love for his country — every body loves his country.”

“More or less, I suppose,” said Ormond.

“But, upon my word, I entirely agree with you about Sir Herbert, though I know he is prejudiced against me to the last degree”

“If he be, I don’t know it, sir — I never found it out.”

“He will let it out by and by — I only hope he will not prejudice you against me.”

“That is not very easily done, sir.”

“As you have given some proof, my dear boy, and I thank you for it. But the Annalys would go more cautiously to work — I only put you on your guard — Marcus and Sir Herbert never could hit it off together; and I am afraid the breach between us and the Annalys must he widened, for Marcus must stand against Sir Herbert at the next election, if he live — Pray how is he?”

“Not strong, sir — he has a hectic colour — as I was very sorry to see.”

“Ay, poor fellow — he broke some blood-vessel, I think Marcus told me, when they were in England.”

“Yes, sir — so Lady Annaly told me — it was in over-exerting himself to extinguish a fire.”

“A very fine spirited fellow he is, no doubt,” said Sir Ulick; “but, after all, that was rather a foolish thing, in his state of health. By-the-by, as your guardian, it is my duty to explain the circumstances of this family — in case you should hereafter have any serious thoughts; as you say, you should know what comforted Marcus in his disappointment there. There is, then, some confounded flaw in that old father’s will, through which the great Herbert estate slips to an heir-at-law, who has started up within this twelvemonth. Miss Annaly, who was to have been a nonpareil of an heiress in case of the brother’s death, will have but a moderate fortune; and the poor dowager will be but scantily provided for, after all the magnificence which she has been used to, unless he lives to make up something handsome for them. I don’t know the particulars, but I know that a vast deal depends on his living till he has levied certain fines, which he ought to have levied, instead of amusing himself putting out other people’s fires. But I am excessively anxious about it, and now on your account as well as theirs; for it would make a great difference to you, if you seriously have any thoughts of Miss Annaly.”

Ormond declared this could make no difference to him, since his own fortune would be sufficient for all the wishes of such a woman as he supposed Miss Annaly to be. The next day Marcus O’Shane arrived from England. This was the first time that Ormond and he had met sin............