The Honourable Miss C—'s waited on Julia a few days after her arrival in town; profuse in professions of regard, and eager to know if she meant to give many concerts and balls, in the course of the winter. Julia felt as much contempt for their present civilities, as for their former neglect; and received them with a degree of coldness, by which they found that a plan of tender and romantic friendship, intended to commence that very morning, was not likely to succeed.

These ladies talked much to Julia of the fashionable amusements, mingling, with great address, instruction with entertainment; and, while they informed her what every body of a certain fortune did, obliquely hinted what she ought to do. Julia forced herself to hearken to their remarks; but, the moment the Miss C—'s left the room, she forgot their existence; nor did she recollect that there was any such thing as gaiety in the world – her whole thoughts being absorbed by the observations she had made on Frederick Seymour's behaviour since her arrival in town. She saw him struggling with ill-concealed wretchedness: she bitterly reproached herself for her weakness on the first day of their meeting; and endeavoured to atone for it, to her own mind, by avoiding all particular conversation with him most carefully. She perceived that he now no longer exerted that resolution which had formerly led him to shun her society; but that, on the contrary, he always attended his wife when she visited her father; and was always at home when Julia was expected. He seemed unable to refuse himself the indulgence of seeing her; and when they parted, he was only occupied by the consideration when they should meet again; for he found that the charms of her conversation soothed his unhappiness, and that the tumult of his feelings was often calmed in her presence. His disturbed mind resembled a tempestuous flood, whose waves arise dark and turbulent, except where the sun-beam throws a line of trembling radiance across their agitated surface.