a most delightful breakfast. Miss Somerville, although declared out of danger by the doctor, was still languid, but able to continue her journey; and as they had not many miles farther to go, Mr. Somerville proposed a delay of an hour or two.
Breakfast ended, he quitted the room to arrange for their departure, and I found myself tête-d-tête with the young lady. During this short absence, I found out that she was an only daughter, and that her mother was dead; she again introduced the subject of my family name, and I found also that before Mrs. Somerville's death, my father had been on terms of great intimacy with Emily's parents. I had not replied to Mr. Somerville's question. A similar one was now asked by his daughter; and so closely was interrogated by her coral lips and searching blue eyes, that I could not tell a lie. It would have been a horrid aggravation of guilt, so I honestly owned that I was the son of her father's friend, Mr. Mildmay.
