She was now standing at a window that commanded the terrace. The evening
was beautiful, and the walk crouded. There were assembled persons of all
sexes and of different ranks. All appeared gaiety and splendour. The
supple courtier and the haughty country gentleman seemed equally at their
ease. There was thoughtless youth and narrative old age. The company
passed along, and object succeeded object without intermission.
One of the last that caught the eye of Delia, was that of two gentlemen
walking arm in arm, and seeming more grave than the rest of the company.
They were both tall and well shaped; but one of them had somewhat more
graceful and unembarrassed in his manner than the other. The latter was
dressed in black, the former in colours, with much propriety and elegance.
As they turned at the end of the walk the eye of Delia caught in the
latter the figure of Damon. She was inexpressibly astonished, she trembled
in every limb, and could scarcely support herself to a seat. Miss Fletcher
had caught the same object at the same moment, and, though she probably
might not otherwise have been clear in her recollection, the disorder of
Delia put her conjecture out of doubt. She therefore, before our heroine
had time to recollect herself, dispatched her brother, who had attended
them in their journey, to inform Damon that a lady in the castle was
desirous to speak with him.
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