parlour where Mrs. Edwards was sitting, respectably attired in one of the two satin gowns which went through the winter, and a newcap from the milliner’s, they entered it with much easier feelings and more natural smiles than they had taken away. Their dress was now to be examined: Mrs. Edwards acknowledged herself too old-fashioned to approve of every modern extravagance, however sanctioned ; and though complacently viewing her daughter's good looks, would give but a qualified admiration ; and Mr. Edwards, not less satisfied with Mary, paid some compliments of good-humoured gallantry to Emma at her expense. The discussion led to more intimate remarks, and Miss Edwards gently asked Emma if she was not often reckoned very like her youngest brother. Emma thought she could perceive a faint blush accompany the question, and there seemed something still more suspicious in the manner in which Mr, Edwards took up the subject.
‘You are paying Miss Emma no great compliment, I think, Mary, said he, hastily. ‘Mr. Sam Watson is a very good sort of young man, and I dare say a very clever surgeon ; but his complexion has been rather too much exposed to all weathers to make a likeness to him very flattering.’
Mary apologised, in some confusion—
‘She had not thought a strong likeness at all incompatible with very different degrees of beauty. There micht be resemblance in countenance, and the complexion and even the features be very unlike.’
‘I know nothing of my brother's beauty, said
