the aunt,—”is the humorist cured of his fancies?”
“The Count,” replied Eloisa, “seems to have sought his cure elsewhere.”
“Quarrelling again?” said the aunt—“Really you two will never agree till you are made one.”
This completed my indignation, though I had still sufficient mastery over myself to subdue the expression of it any farther than by the rising colour in my cheek; that I could not hinder. But such a remark from her! Who but herself was the cause of most of the quarrels between me and Eloisa, fanning the slightest spark of discord into a blaze? Who but herself had delayed our marriage, which, had it taken place, would have inevitably composed our principal differences? The fact is, she would much rather have had Eloisa for a companion all her life, than have seen her a wife, although a happy one.
“Come, Baron,” said Eloisa to Wagen, and in an instant was hanging on his arm, while the aunt took mine. I was willing, if possible, to gain over my secret enemy, and began to give
