“I like your Miss Bertrams exceedingly, sister,” said he, as he returned from attending them to their carriage after the said dinner visit; “they are very elegant, agreeable girls. Such healthy girls. And their mother—the dear Lady Bertram seems to be quite taken with me, in the brief moments that she finds herself away from—papyrus.”

“So they are indeed, and I am delighted to hear you say it. But, despite the mother’s charming hobby, you do like Julia best.” said Mary, with a dark wicked twinkle in her eye.

“Oh yes! I like Julia best.”

“But do you really? for Miss Bertram is in general thought the handsomest.”

“So I should suppose. She has the advantage in every feature, and I prefer her countenance; but I like Julia best. Miss Bertram is certainly the handsomest, and I have found her the most agreeable, but I shall always like Julia best—because you order me. And because it seems to please everyone in this charmingly quaint private museum of antiquities, including Her Egyptian Ladyship.”

“I shall not talk to you, Henry, but I know you will like her best at last.”

“Julia or Her Ladyship? You must mean Julia. Do not I tell you that I like her best at first?”

“And besides, Miss Bertram is engaged. Remember that, my dear brother. Amid the splendor of antiquities, her choice is made.”

“Yes, and I like her the better for it. An engaged woman is always more agreeable than a disengaged. She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over, her papyrus rolled and stacked, so to speak, and she feels that she may exert all her powers of pleasing without suspicion. All is safe with a lady engaged: no harm can be done.”

“Harm can always be done, you know so very well,” said Miss Crawford, allowing her lips to rise at the corners. “Ah, delicious harm! This place, this grand madhouse, puts me rather in the mind of it. And the poor engaged spouse . . . oh dear.”

Henry’s dark eyes appeared even darker, wickedly sweetly so. “Why, as to that, Mr. Rushworth is a very good sort of young man, and it is a great match for her. Did you observe the delightful manner in which he sniffs her neck when he thinks they are unwatched? I daresay my hounds can do no better.”

“Sniffs her neck? How scandalous! whatever do you mean?” Mrs. Grant interrupted in some confusion, since she was quite unaware of the fine nuances being discussed.

Maria subtly ignored her gentler sister. “But Miss Bertram does not care three straws for him; that is your opinion of your intimate friend. I do not subscribe to it. I am sure Miss Bertram is very much attached to Mr. Rushworth, with and without neck sniffing. I could see it in her eyes, when he was mentioned. I think too well of Miss Bertram to suppose she would ever give her hand without her heart.”