the Colonel's part, even an approach to cordiality, Bertram carefully measured his own conduct by that of his host, and seemed rather to receive his offered kindness with gratitude and pleasure, than to press for it with solicitation.
Miss Bertram was in the breakfast parlour when Sampson shuffled in, his face all radiant with smiles; a circumstance so uncommon, that Lucy's first idea was, that somebody had been bantering him with an imposition which had thrown him into this extacy. Having sate for some time, rolling his eyes and gaping with his mouth like the great wooden head at Merlin's exhibition, he at length began—"And what do you think of him, Miss Lucy?"
"Think of whom, Mr Sampson?"
"Of Har—no—of him that you know about?"
"That I know about?"
"Yes, the stranger, you know, that came last evening in the post vehicle—
