CHAPTER VIII.

"Il va monter en cheval pour bannir son ennui,"Le chagrin monte en croupe et galoppe après lui."

Finding solitary reflection rather increased than cured his malady, he at last determined to open his heart, to his reverend friend, Mr. Temple; and, alighting at the parsonage, sent his servant back to the hall, to say he should not return to dinner—an intimation which considerably increased the gloom which pervaded the countenance of each individual of the trio, that was seated in silence round the dinner-table. Sir Henry and Mrs. Galton were each occupied by their own reflections; and Selina felt depressed, not only by the unusual absence of Augustus, but also from the effects of that vacuum, which the departure of guests, however few in number, always makes in a country house. After dinner she strolled listlessly from one room to another; took up and laid down, alternately, all the books that lay on the library table; sauntered to the harpsichord, and played parts of several anthems, without finishing any, and stopping every five minutes, in the vain belief that she heard the trampling of Mordaunt's horse. At last, at an hour long before her usual bed-time, she retired to her room, wondering what could keep him so late, and thinking she had never spent so long, so tiresome an evening; whilst she involuntarily contrasted it with the hours winged on swiftest pinions, which the fascinations of Lady Eltondale's manners had so delightfully beguiled the night before.

——MenCan counsel and give comfort to that grief,Which they themselves not feel.Much ado about Nothing.

——MenCan counsel and give comfort to that grief,Which they themselves not feel.

Much ado about Nothing.

Augustus met with his usual kind reception at the parsonage; nor was it long before he found the opportunity he wished of consulting his earliest and most revered friend; for Mrs. Temple quickly perceived, that something hung heavy on the bosom of this young man, whom she loved almost as a son, and therefore soon retired from the dinner-table, leaving the two gentlementête à tête, believing that he would find as much comfort as she ever did, from conversing freely with him who was "her guide, her head;" for, like our first parents, they lived, "he for God only, she for God in him."

No sooner did Augustus find himself alone with Mr. Temple, than his oppressed heart found a ready vent, and he poured into the sympathetic ear of his reverend auditor a full detail of all his feelings. He had first discovered how ardently he loved Selina, at the moment he had learned she was destined for another; and he described, with all the eloquence of passion, the agony, the despair he now experienced. Mr. Temple had not yet forgotten what it was to love; and, "though time had thinn'd his flowing hair," his feelings had not yet become torpid under its benumbing influence. He could listen with patience, and even pity, to the wild effusions of his favourite's grief, while he waited calmly till the first burst of passion should subside, and leave room for the exercise of sober reason.—"Come, come, my dear Augustus," said he, at last, "your case is neither a singular nor a desperate one: there are very few young men of your age, that do not fancy themselves as deeply in love as you do now, and, of the number, not one in five hundred marry the object of their first choice: indeed it is often very fortunate for them they do not."—"But Selina Seymour! where is such another woman to be found?" exclaimed Augustus: and then, with all a lover's vehemence, did he expatiate on her "matchless charms." "I grant you," replied Mr. Temple, "she is a very delightful girl; and, as far as we can judge, is likely to make a most estimable woman. But you know her disposition is naturally volatile in the extreme, and much of her future character will depend on her future guides. Well, well, we will not dispute on the degree of her merits," continued Mr. Temple, seeing Mordaunt ready to take up the gauntlet in her defence;—"hear me only with calmness, and I will promise to confine my observations as much as I can to yourself. You know, my dear boy, you are yet very young, and very inexperienced. It is true you have been three years at Oxford. But of the world you may literally be said to know nothing. Selina is now certainly the most charming woman you have yet seen; but how can you be sure she will always hold her pre-eminence in your estimation? Aye, my dear fellow, you need not tell me;—I know you are at this moment perfectly convinced of your own inviolable constancy, and so forth. But let me tell you, you do not yourself know yet what would, and what would not, constitute your happiness in a wedded life. The girl, whose vivacity and animation we delight in at seventeen, may turn out a frivolous and even contemptible character at seven and twenty. And can you picture to yourself a greater calamity, than being obliged to drag on the lengthened chain of existence with a companion, to whose fate yours is linked for ever, without one tone of feeling in unison with yours; to whom your pleasures and your griefs are alike unknown, or, if known, never comprehended; and where every misery is aggravated by a certainty that your fate is irremediable—when

'Life nothing blighter or darker can bring;'

when

'Joy has no balm, and affliction no sting?'

"It is very true that you think now, because Selina's pursuits have hitherto been similar to yours, that her character must likewise be in sympathy with yours. But, though I grant that it appears so now, I deny that it is in any way so formed as to be safely depended on. She is very young and very docile; and, believe me, her disposition, chameleon-like, will, most probably, take the shade of whomsoever she associates with:—'Dimmi con chi vai, e vi diso quel che fai[6].' You say, if you were her husband you would be her guide; and that similitude of character, now faintly traced, would be confirmed for ever. But without dwelling on the argument, that your own is yet scarcely formed, let me remind you, that Selina is even still more ignorant of the world than yourself. Let me ask you, even in this moment of unrestrained passion, would you consent to accept that dear innocent girl's hand, without a certainty that with it you received her heart? And how could you be certain of her affection, till time and experience, by maturing her judgment, had confirmed her feelings? How, Augustus, would you support the conviction, nay the bare suspicion, that when, as your wife, you first introduced her to that world from which she has hitherto lived so totally secluded, she should meet with another, whom she even thought she could have preferred to you; and, while you continued to gaze on her with the eye of tenderest love, you found your heart's warm offering received with the cold petrifying glance of indifference? You shudder at the very thought. Think, then, how the arrow that wounded you would be doubly sharpened, if the slanderous tooth of envy galled your fair fame, by accusing you of having secured to yourself Sir Henry Seymour's property by marrying his heiress, before the poor girl was old enough to judge for herself. What, then, my dear boy," said Mr. Temple, grasping his hand with a fervour almost paternal, whilst his eyes swam in tears, "What, then, Augustus, is the result of these observations, more painful to me to make than to you to hear? You acknowledge you would not even wish to marry Selina under these existing circumstances. What then is your misery? Look at it boldly in the face; and, trust me, few are the anticipated evils of life, which, by being steadily gazed at, do not dwindle into insignificance. Lord Eltondale has proposed his son to be Miss Seymour's husband; and the match is sufficiently desirable, in a worldly point of view, to obtain Sir Henry Seymour's consent. But Selina, you say, knows nothing of it yet, and has never seen Mr. Elton. What then does it all come to? Why, when she does see him, if she does not like him, do you think her father would force her to marry him? and if she should like him, would you accept her hand, even if it were offered to you?"

Mr. Temple had not so long continued his discourse without frequent interruptions from Augustus, who could not at first easily be persuaded to assent to assertions, which tended to destroy the fairy dream of bliss that floated in his imagination. By degrees, however, as his judgment cooled, he acceded to the plain but severe truths which Mr. Temple uttered; while the deference and regard, which his pupil had always felt for the excellent old man, served still more effectually to obtain the conviction he aimed at, than even the logical strength of his reasoning.

By degrees, Mordaunt not only confessed the truth of his remarks, but submitted to the wise plan of conduct, which Mr. Temple laid down for him.

He proposed that Augustus should immediately leave the hall, and return to the prosecution of his studies at Oxford, leaving to time not only the development of Selina's character, but also the proof of to what extent he was actually attached to her.

Their conversation was prolonged to a late hour; and when Mordaunt returned home, the family had all retired to rest, and the door was opened by a servant, who, at the same time, shaded with his hand the glimmering candle, which but partially illuminated the darkly wain-scotted hall. Augustus felt a chill creep through his veins as he quickly traversed it; and walking mechanically into the empty drawing-room, stopped a few minutes in melancholy silence. The music Selina had been playing was carelessly strewed over the harpsichord; the sermon book, in which Mrs. Galton had been reading, was laid open on the table; and Sir Henry's knotted cane had fallen down beside the chair, in which he usually took his evening nap. A sort of involuntary reflection passed through the mind of Augustus, that he might never again meet those three beloved individuals in that room, which had hitherto been to him the scene of his happiest hours; and shrinking from the melancholy train of ideas which this reflection gave birth to, he hastily retired to his room, though not to rest. Many a time, during that wakeful night, did the same reflection cross his mind; and many a time, in his future life, did it recur to his recollection with a poignant force. So often does it happen that melancholy fancies, occasioned in the mind by the temporary pressure of sorrow, are recalled to the memory by subsequent events, and, dignified by the accidental confirmation of casual circumstances, receive the name ofprophetic warnings.

Sneer.—True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly appears no reason why Mr. Walter should be so communicative.Puff.—For, egad now, that is one of the most ungrateful observations I ever heard;—for the less inducement he has to tell all this, the more I think you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure you'd know nothing of the matter without it.Dangle.—That's very true, upon my word.The Critic.

Sneer.—True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly appears no reason why Mr. Walter should be so communicative.

Puff.—For, egad now, that is one of the most ungrateful observations I ever heard;—for the less inducement he has to tell all this, the more I think you ought to be obliged to him; for I am sure you'd know nothing of the matter without it.

Dangle.—That's very true, upon my word.

The Critic.

Augustus rose next morning at the first dawn of light; and, anxious to avoid seeing Selina, whilst agitated by the unhappy feelings that had now taken possession of his mind, left the hall before any of the family were up, and in a short note, excused the abruptness of his departure, by informing Sir Henry, that he had the evening before received at the village a letter, to inform him that his Oxford friends had set out on their long promised excursion to the lakes.

Selina, though totally unconscious of the real cause of his absence, felt it with unusual acuteness, which Mrs. Galton remarked with regret, and for some time vainly endeavoured to turn her thoughts into their usual channel. At length they were in some degree diverted by the arrival of a letter from Lady Eltondale to Sir Henry, enclosing one from Frederick Elton to his father; for Sir Henry's noble sister was fully aware, that it was adviseable to remind him, from time to time, of the existence of this young man, that such reminiscence might refresh his memory as to his promise respecting him.

Mr. Elton had been three years abroad, during which time he had kept up a constant though not very confidential correspondence with his father; for, dreading Lady Eltondale's satire, and knowing she was in the habit of reading all his letters, he pictured to himself her smile of contempt, or shrug of pity, at what she would term his romance, with a repugnance he could not summon resolution to encounter: so that, though his colloquial intercourse with his father was that of the most perfect confidence, his written communications might have been posted on a gateway, without the smallest detriment to his prospects in life. But, as he thus felt himself debarred of the happiness of expressing, without reserve, to his first and best friend, all his feelings and wishes, he endeavoured to console himself for this deprivation, by a most undisguised correspondence with a Mr. Sedley, with whom he had formed a friendship during their academical course in the university of Cambridge, where they had both been honourably distinguished.

About twelve months before Lady Eltondale's visit to Deane Hall, Mr. Sedley had received the first of the following letters, and seven months after its arrival the two latter, though of different dates, reached him on the same day: of course they did not meet the eye of the viscountess, so that she remained ignorant of their contents; but even had she known them entirely, no consideration for Frederick'shappinesswould for an instant have caused her to waver in her plan for promoting hisprosperity, as on the fulfilment of her long meditated scheme for this purpose depended the possibility of her future continuance in the London world.

Mr. Elton, to Charles Sedley, Esq.Catania, January 9. ——If you have received the various letters I have written to you, my dear Sedley, since I left England, you are perfectlyau faitof all my rambles; and of my perils, and "hair-breadth 'scapes" by sea and by land, beginning with a shipwreck on the island of Rhodes, and ending with the dangers I encountered in paying my compliments to the Dey of Algiers: if not I must refer you to my note book, as a twice told tale is still more tedious to the relater than to the hearer. You must not be incredulous, if said manuscript should contain many wonderful adventures; but I have met with something more rare, more "passing strange," than all the marvels it describes: a woman Icanlove! nay, that, for my very soul, I could not help loving if I would; and, to say truth, at present I do not wish to make the experiment.You see, Sedley, you were in the main no bad prophet. When we were together, I forswore all womankind in the way of matrimony, because I was disgusted with the manœuvres of title-hunting mamas, and theagaceriesof their varnished daughters, who have little distinction but name, and nothing to guide a selection in the mass of resemblance—nothing to mark their identity—except a scruple, more or less, of folly or coquetry! Now don't plume yourself too much on your penetration; you were not altogether right, it was not the Gallic "Erycina ridens, quam Jocus circumvolat et Cupido[7]," who captivated me.—Man seeks in man his fellow, but in woman his contrary; and I am too volatile to be touched by a creature as thoughtless as myself. I should not say asthoughtless, but asgay; for their heads are continually filled with schemes to excite admiration, or ensure conquest: besides, the Parisian belle is only the more spirited original, of which our own girl of fashion is the elegant but insipid translation. Having told you those I donotlike, it is time to give you a faint, a very faint, idea of her Idoadmire.—But let me go on regularly, and tell you first how I happened to meet with her.At Palermo there is a very numerous, if not good society, made up of shreds and patches of the staple manufacture of all nations, but principally of the English produce. You know, it is my practice to profit, when abroad, by that of whatever country I may happen to be in, as our own is to be had better and at a cheaper rate at home. Impressed with this idea, I procured some introductions to the principal nobility of this enchanting place, where, I understood, there was a delightful native society, and the gentlemanly amusements of drinking and gambling (the only ones to be found at Palermo and Messina) were nearly superseded by those afforded by music, dancing, and literary conversation. I have not been disappointed; and if you should ever come to Sicily, I advise you to take up your abode here, and I will introduce you to all my acquaintance, withoneexception. About four months ago, I found myself, one evening, at the Marchese Di Rosalba's, listening to some exquisite music: I was as melancholy as a poet in love, for "I am never merry when I hear sweet music;" when my eyes happened to rest on a lady, whose image will never leave my mind.From the looks of the gentleman who accompanied her, I soon discovered that the fair creature, who rested on his arm, was his daughter. In his face was a strangely mingled expression of habitual care, and present pleasure; his forehead was furrowed in a thousand wrinkles, and the feverish glare of his eye spoke a mind ill at ease: but when he turned to his daughter, to point out to her notice, in the tacit language of the eye, any beautiful passage in the music, he looked like a saint raised from his penance by a vision of celestial nature. Her countenance formed the most perfect contrast to his; it was the abode of peace, which seemed to repose in her eye; her whole outline of face and form was so perfect, that a sculptor might have taken her as a model for the statue that Pygmalion worshipped; and, like him, I longed to see the beauteous image waken to incipient thought—I was not long ungratified—its apparent absence was only the effect of the music, which, to use her own expression "fait tout rêver et ne rien penser." When she joined in conversation her ever varying countenance resembled a mirror, which transmits to our eye every passing image, (though the polished surface is itself unmasked by any), and, like it, owing its animation to the strong reflecting power gained from within. I could not decide then, and I cannot tell you even now, whether I most admire the angelic placidity of her countenance when silent, or its luminous brilliancy, when her ideas and feelings are called forth in interesting conversation. At such moments the brightness of her soul is reflected in her eyes, and the lambent flame, which then plays in them, seems, like the summer's lightning, to open a Heaven to our view.You will easily suppose I lost no time in introducing myself to her notice: she received my attentions in the most unembarrassed manner—not courting—not repulsing them, but seeming to consider them as justly due to her sex, and her rank in society. These attentions I have not ceased to pay at every possible opportunity since that delightful evening, and my admiration grows stronger every day. I find her conversation truly charming; and I devoutly believe it would be so were she externally the reverse of what she is; for, in speaking, "she makes one forget every thing—even her own beauty." She has not found out, that her extensive knowledge is any thing to be ashamed of. But, poor thing! a short residence in England would teach her that! She neither conceals nor displays her acquirements. The stream of thought, inhermind, flows, not like the little mountain torrent, swelled by accidental rains, exceeding every bound, and defacing the fair soil it should adorn; but, like the fertilizing river,"Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull,Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full."In the beginning of our acquaintance we conversed in Italian, but as I was not very fluent, she politely adopted the French language as the circulating medium of our commerce, and I was half sorry for it; for besides the beauty of Italian in her mouth, her good-natured smile, when I eked out my scanty stock with a word or two of Latin, pleased me better than all the rest, it was so encouragingly kind, sountutored!I soon found out she had a quick sense of the ridiculous, but only because sharp-sighted people cannot go through the world with their eyes shut. She forbears, from the benevolence of her heart, to use the powers of ridicule her penetration furnishes her with; and I admire her the more for having at command an arsenal of wit, with so many polished weapons unused. We are always attached to the generous enemy, who can strike, but spares!I have been so delighted with the employment of defining to myself, for the first time, my ideas of the object of my admiration, that (pardon me, my dear Sedley) I quite forgot they were to be read by another; and, perhaps, should have gone on till to-morrow, had not my servant, coming to inquire if my letters were ready to be conveyed to the ship which is to carry them to England, roused me from my soliloquy, (if you will permit me to extend this expression to writing).I would not display the amulet, which guards my heart by its potent charm, to any eye but yours; but I cannot, even in this instance, depart from my usual habit of confidence in you; therefore, here goes my unread rhapsody.Yours, dear Sedley, ever truly,Frederick Elton.

Mr. Elton, to Charles Sedley, Esq.

Catania, January 9. ——

If you have received the various letters I have written to you, my dear Sedley, since I left England, you are perfectlyau faitof all my rambles; and of my perils, and "hair-breadth 'scapes" by sea and by land, beginning with a shipwreck on the island of Rhodes, and ending with the dangers I encountered in paying my compliments to the Dey of Algiers: if not I must refer you to my note book, as a twice told tale is still more tedious to the relater than to the hearer. You must not be incredulous, if said manuscript should contain many wonderful adventures; but I have met with something more rare, more "passing strange," than all the marvels it describes: a woman Icanlove! nay, that, for my very soul, I could not help loving if I would; and, to say truth, at present I do not wish to make the experiment.

You see, Sedley, you were in the main no bad prophet. When we were together, I forswore all womankind in the way of matrimony, because I was disgusted with the manœuvres of title-hunting mamas, and theagaceriesof their varnished daughters, who have little distinction but name, and nothing to guide a selection in the mass of resemblance—nothing to mark their identity—except a scruple, more or less, of folly or coquetry! Now don't plume yourself too much on your penetration; you were not altogether right, it was not the Gallic "Erycina ridens, quam Jocus circumvolat et Cupido[7]," who captivated me.—Man seeks in man his fellow, but in woman his contrary; and I am too volatile to be touched by a creature as thoughtless as myself. I should not say asthoughtless, but asgay; for their heads are continually filled with schemes to excite admiration, or ensure conquest: besides, the Parisian belle is only the more spirited original, of which our own girl of fashion is the elegant but insipid translation. Having told you those I donotlike, it is time to give you a faint, a very faint, idea of her Idoadmire.—But let me go on regularly, and tell you first how I happened to meet with her.

At Palermo there is a very numerous, if not good society, made up of shreds and patches of the staple manufacture of all nations, but principally of the English produce. You know, it is my practice to profit, when abroad, by that of whatever country I may happen to be in, as our own is to be had better and at a cheaper rate at home. Impressed with this idea, I procured some introductions to the principal nobility of this enchanting place, where, I understood, there was a delightful native society, and the gentlemanly amusements of drinking and gambling (the only ones to be found at Palermo and Messina) were nearly superseded by those afforded by music, dancing, and literary conversation. I have not been disappointed; and if you should ever come to Sicily, I advise you to take up your abode here, and I will introduce you to all my acquaintance, withoneexception. About four months ago, I found myself, one evening, at the Marchese Di Rosalba's, listening to some exquisite music: I was as melancholy as a poet in love, for "I am never merry when I hear sweet music;" when my eyes happened to rest on a lady, whose image will never leave my mind.

From the looks of the gentleman who accompanied her, I soon discovered that the fair creature, who rested on his arm, was his daughter. In his face was a strangely mingled expression of habitual care, and present pleasure; his forehead was furrowed in a thousand wrinkles, and the feverish glare of his eye spoke a mind ill at ease: but when he turned to his daughter, to point out to her notice, in the tacit language of the eye, any beautiful passage in the music, he looked like a saint raised from his penance by a vision of celestial nature. Her countenance formed the most perfect contrast to his; it was the abode of peace, which seemed to repose in her eye; her whole outline of face and form was so perfect, that a sculptor might have taken her as a model for the statue that Pygmalion worshipped; and, like him, I longed to see the beauteous image waken to incipient thought—I was not long ungratified—its apparent absence was only the effect of the music, which, to use her own expression "fait tout rêver et ne rien penser." When she joined in conversation her ever varying countenance resembled a mirror, which transmits to our eye every passing image, (though the polished surface is itself unmasked by any), and, like it, owing its animation to the strong reflecting power gained from within. I could not decide then, and I cannot tell you even now, whether I most admire the angelic placidity of her countenance when silent, or its luminous brilliancy, when her ideas and feelings are called forth in interesting conversation. At such moments the brightness of her soul is reflected in her eyes, and the lambent flame, which then plays in them, seems, like the summer's lightning, to open a Heaven to our view.

You will easily suppose I lost no time in introducing myself to her notice: she received my attentions in the most unembarrassed manner—not courting—not repulsing them, but seeming to consider them as justly due to her sex, and her rank in society. These attentions I have not ceased to pay at every possible opportunity since that delightful evening, and my admiration grows stronger every day. I find her conversation truly charming; and I devoutly believe it would be so were she externally the reverse of what she is; for, in speaking, "she makes one forget every thing—even her own beauty." She has not found out, that her extensive knowledge is any thing to be ashamed of. But, poor thing! a short residence in England would teach her that! She neither conceals nor displays her acquirements. The stream of thought, inhermind, flows, not like the little mountain torrent, swelled by accidental rains, exceeding every bound, and defacing the fair soil it should adorn; but, like the fertilizing river,

"Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull,Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full."

In the beginning of our acquaintance we conversed in Italian, but as I was not very fluent, she politely adopted the French language as the circulating medium of our commerce, and I was half sorry for it; for besides the beauty of Italian in her mouth, her good-natured smile, when I eked out my scanty stock with a word or two of Latin, pleased me better than all the rest, it was so encouragingly kind, sountutored!

I soon found out she had a quick sense of the ridiculous, but only because sharp-sighted people cannot go through the world with their eyes shut. She forbears, from the benevolence of her heart, to use the powers of ridicule her penetration furnishes her with; and I admire her the more for having at command an arsenal of wit, with so many polished weapons unused. We are always attached to the generous enemy, who can strike, but spares!

I have been so delighted with the employment of defining to myself, for the first time, my ideas of the object of my admiration, that (pardon me, my dear Sedley) I quite forgot they were to be read by another; and, perhaps, should have gone on till to-morrow, had not my servant, coming to inquire if my letters were ready to be conveyed to the ship which is to carry them to England, roused me from my soliloquy, (if you will permit me to extend this expression to writing).

I would not display the amulet, which guards my heart by its potent charm, to any eye but yours; but I cannot, even in this instance, depart from my usual habit of confidence in you; therefore, here goes my unread rhapsody.

Yours, dear Sedley, ever truly,Frederick Elton.

To Charles Sedley, Esquire.Catania, March 5, ——My dear Sedley,About two months ago I sent you my confession, which you have no doubt received and answered, ere this. It was no sooner gone than I repented I had sent it, thinking it would have been wiser to endeavour to restrain my perhaps unrequited passion, than to run the risk of confirming it, by imparting it to another. This was only the escort of a long train of reflections, which ended in a resolution to leave Catania immediately; and in order to divert my mind from the train of thought that had seized it, I resolved to visit Mount Etna, in company with a party of Savans, assembled for that purpose at this place. We had all thede quoifor a most amusing excursion, men of real science and literature, and still more entertaining pretenders to both; amongst the latter I held a distinguished rank, for in my zeal to acquire the "hardest science,"ere"taught a lover yet," I mistook one mineral for another, and miscalled every plant I met; indeed, I might give you a long list of similar blunders, that raised many a learned shoulder and eye-brow to the altitude of contemptuous surprise!After the descent from the mountain, I insensibly separated myself from all the party, whose weak senses I had so much astonished; and wandering about the exquisite scenery at the base of Etna, I was more than ever possessed by feelings I had endeavoured to stifle;Pour chasser de sa souvenanceL'objet qui plait,On se donne tant de souffrance,Pour si peu d'effet!Une si douce fantaisie,Toujours revient,Et en songeant qu'on doit l'oublier,On s'en souvient.[8]So to make a long story short, here I am again at Catania, for the purpose of making myself quite sure, that Adelina is as charming as my imagination has depicted her. I really don't think she is, for I certainly did not love her half so much when I was with her as I do now; perhaps mymindwas so much amused by her conversation, that little room was left for the expansion of thefeelings; but they are unrestrained in absence, and its melancholy regrets are, I verily believe, more powerful than the most potent present charm. If Adelina is the superior character I take her for, I see no one good reason why she should not be my wife: I have, on considering the matter more maturely, put to flight the phantoms I had raised previous to my departure from this place.My father, when twice my age, (with therefore half the excuse) married for love, therefore why should not I?I am sure he will give me no opposition, for he has always been a most indulgent parent, and on a point where my happiness is so much concerned, I feel convinced my wishes would be his. Whenever he has, on points of minor importance, wavered in the least, my charming step-dame has always used her influence, to decide him in my favour, therefore I am certain of her support. Indeed what can my father object to in Adelina? He cannot surely want fortune for me? I do not know whether Adelina is or is not possessed of this root of all evil, but if she is not, it is the only want she can possibly have.But all this is for an after-thought, the preamble must be to gain Adelina's consent: she has shown me no particular preference as yet, but I am determined to think she will not withhold it;Qui timidè rogat docet negare[9], and the conviction of the success of our plans so often ensures it!With these hopes I am now as happy, as I was miserable a short time ago. What fools we are to throw away the bliss we might enjoy, at the suggestions of that preposterous prudence, that leads us to seek for flaws in the short leases of happiness that are granted to us, and which, after all, when they expire are renewable at pleasure, if we would but pay the necessary fine, by sacrificing our proud splenetic discontents. Hypochondriac spirits may say as they like; but I will maintain, that to those who make the best of it, this is a very delightful world!The Marchese di Rosalba has promised to take me to-morrow to the Villa Marinella, where Adelina always goes with her father in the beginning of spring. I shall establish my head quarters within two or three miles of it at Aci reale, through which flows the river immortalized by the loves of Acis and Galatea; and if my Galatea should prove equally kind, no mental or corporeal giant shall destroy our happiness.Ever yours, dear Sedley,Frederick Elton.

To Charles Sedley, Esquire.

Catania, March 5, ——

My dear Sedley,

About two months ago I sent you my confession, which you have no doubt received and answered, ere this. It was no sooner gone than I repented I had sent it, thinking it would have been wiser to endeavour to restrain my perhaps unrequited passion, than to run the risk of confirming it, by imparting it to another. This was only the escort of a long train of reflections, which ended in a resolution to leave Catania immediately; and in order to divert my mind from the train of thought that had seized it, I resolved to visit Mount Etna, in company with a party of Savans, assembled for that purpose at this place. We had all thede quoifor a most amusing excursion, men of real science and literature, and still more entertaining pretenders to both; amongst the latter I held a distinguished rank, for in my zeal to acquire the "hardest science,"ere"taught a lover yet," I mistook one mineral for another, and miscalled every plant I met; indeed, I might give you a long list of similar blunders, that raised many a learned shoulder and eye-brow to the altitude of contemptuous surprise!

After the descent from the mountain, I insensibly separated myself from all the party, whose weak senses I had so much astonished; and wandering about the exquisite scenery at the base of Etna, I was more than ever possessed by feelings I had endeavoured to stifle;

Pour chasser de sa souvenanceL'objet qui plait,On se donne tant de souffrance,Pour si peu d'effet!Une si douce fantaisie,Toujours revient,Et en songeant qu'on doit l'oublier,On s'en souvient.[8]

So to make a long story short, here I am again at Catania, for the purpose of making myself quite sure, that Adelina is as charming as my imagination has depicted her. I really don't think she is, for I certainly did not love her half so much when I was with her as I do now; perhaps mymindwas so much amused by her conversation, that little room was left for the expansion of thefeelings; but they are unrestrained in absence, and its melancholy regrets are, I verily believe, more powerful than the most potent present charm. If Adelina is the superior character I take her for, I see no one good reason why she should not be my wife: I have, on considering the matter more maturely, put to flight the phantoms I had raised previous to my departure from this place.

My father, when twice my age, (with therefore half the excuse) married for love, therefore why should not I?

I am sure he will give me no opposition, for he has always been a most indulgent parent, and on a point where my happiness is so much concerned, I feel convinced my wishes would be his. Whenever he has, on points of minor importance, wavered in the least, my charming step-dame has always used her influence, to decide him in my favour, therefore I am certain of her support. Indeed what can my father object to in Adelina? He cannot surely want fortune for me? I do not know whether Adelina is or is not possessed of this root of all evil, but if she is not, it is the only want she can possibly have.

But all this is for an after-thought, the preamble must be to gain Adelina's consent: she has shown me no particular preference as yet, but I am determined to think she will not withhold it;Qui timidè rogat docet negare[9], and the conviction of the success of our plans so often ensures it!

With these hopes I am now as happy, as I was miserable a short time ago. What fools we are to throw away the bliss we might enjoy, at the suggestions of that preposterous prudence, that leads us to seek for flaws in the short leases of happiness that are granted to us, and which, after all, when they expire are renewable at pleasure, if we would but pay the necessary fine, by sacrificing our proud splenetic discontents. Hypochondriac spirits may say as they like; but I will maintain, that to those who make the best of it, this is a very delightful world!

The Marchese di Rosalba has promised to take me to-morrow to the Villa Marinella, where Adelina always goes with her father in the beginning of spring. I shall establish my head quarters within two or three miles of it at Aci reale, through which flows the river immortalized by the loves of Acis and Galatea; and if my Galatea should prove equally kind, no mental or corporeal giant shall destroy our happiness.

Ever yours, dear Sedley,Frederick Elton.

——He says he loves my daughter,I think so too: for never gaz'd the moonUpon the water, as he'll stand and readAs t'were, my daughter's eyes: and to be plain,I think there is not half a kiss to choose,Who loves another best.If young DoriclesDo marry with her, she'll bring him thatWhich he not dreams of.Shakespeare.

Shakespeare.

Mr. ELTON TO CHARLES SEDLEY, ESQ.Aci reale, July 15,My dear Sedley,I believe I informed you, in the beginning of spring, of my intention of coming to this beautiful place, on account of its vicinity to the Villa Marinella, the residence of "La belle Adelina,"(the appellation my fair one is known by at Catania). I have accomplished almost domesticating myself at this charming villa. I did not give its inhabitants the alarm at first, wishing to ingratiate myself in their favour before they should be aware of the object I had in view. My appearance excited no surprise, as Aci reale was such a natural place for me to choose for my abode at this fine season, from the facilities it affords for examining at leisure all the natural wonders of Etna, and all the wonders of art displayed in the antiquities of Taurominium. Adelina and I conversed on the beautiful ruins of Syracuse; of course, I could not do less than go there to take drawings of them, and she was equally bound in gratitude to examine them most minutely in my presence. One day her father, rather abruptly, asked me if I understoodperspective? I said I was at that moment studying it, and thought it a most delightful employment! He was concerned that so much good inclination should be thrown away, so insisted on teaching me; and to make the matter worse, took the most abstruse method of doing it. To make a good impression on him I was obliged to brush up my rusty mathematics, and I assure you it required no small self-command to fix my attention on the points ofsightand points ofdistancehe expatiated on; whilst my mind was busily employed in settling these points to my satisfaction, as they regarded Adelina and myself. We have now got on a more agreeable subject, which gives us many delightful hours' conversation—namely, the beauties natural and artificial of this island. On my second visit to the Villa Marinella, I was taken into a saloon adorned with specimens of every thing Sicily could boast of: the floor was mosaic, of all her different marbles; the hangings of Sicilian silk; the walls were embellished with the paintings of Velasquez—in vases, of the alabaster of the country, bloomed every fragrant flower it produced. There was a cabinet of beautiful workmanship containing highly wrought amber, coral, and cameos; and a Sicilian museum and library of all the best books extant, of native authors ancient and modern, completed the collection. Amongst the moderns Adelina particularly pointed out to me the works of the Abate Ferrara, of Balsamo, Bourigni, and the exquisite poems of Melli and Guegli: the contents of this room afford us constant discussion. Nothing can exceed the beauty of this villa; the hand of taste has been impressed on it from the first stone to the last: it is seated in a rich vale at the foot of Etna, from which pours many a stream in foamy swiftness. The sea is seen, here and there, like a smooth glassy lake, through the dark foliage of magnificent forest trees, whose sombre hues are admirably contrasted with the brilliant tints of the orange and the vine. The myrtle, the rose, and all the choicest favourites of Flora are "poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain." The beauty of the sky, the balmy fragrance of the air, and the classical and poetical associations which the surrounding scenery brings to the mind, conspire to give a charm to this delightful spot, which no words can convey to the mind of one who has not roamed amidst its enchantments, and still less can language do justice to the feelings of him who has!Adelina is just the being you would fancy such a scene should produce; no cloud of sorrow, or of error, seems ever to have thrown on her its dark shade; serene in conscious virtue and happiness, and resplendent in mental and physical loveliness,"She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies."I have this day said to this charming creature every thing that man can say, except those four words, "Will you marry me?" and was proceeding to give them utterance, when I was most unseasonably interrupted. From her surprise and confusion I augur well; whenever I am secure of my happiness you shall know it, but perhaps you are tired of all this, and are ready to say with Virgil,Sicelides musæ, paullo majora canamus;Non omnes arbusta juvant, humilesque myricæ[10].Yours ever,Frederick Elton.

Mr. ELTON TO CHARLES SEDLEY, ESQ.

Aci reale, July 15,

My dear Sedley,

I believe I informed you, in the beginning of spring, of my intention of coming to this beautiful place, on account of its vicinity to the Villa Marinella, the residence of "La belle Adelina,"

(the appellation my fair one is known by at Catania). I have accomplished almost domesticating myself at this charming villa. I did not give its inhabitants the alarm at first, wishing to ingratiate myself in their favour before they should be aware of the object I had in view. My appearance excited no surprise, as Aci reale was such a natural place for me to choose for my abode at this fine season, from the facilities it affords for examining at leisure all the natural wonders of Etna, and all the wonders of art displayed in the antiquities of Taurominium. Adelina and I conversed on the beautiful ruins of Syracuse; of course, I could not do less than go there to take drawings of them, and she was equally bound in gratitude to examine them most minutely in my presence. One day her father, rather abruptly, asked me if I understoodperspective? I said I was at that moment studying it, and thought it a most delightful employment! He was concerned that so much good inclination should be thrown away, so insisted on teaching me; and to make the matter worse, took the most abstruse method of doing it. To make a good impression on him I was obliged to brush up my rusty mathematics, and I assure you it required no small self-command to fix my attention on the points ofsightand points ofdistancehe expatiated on; whilst my mind was busily employed in settling these points to my satisfaction, as they regarded Adelina and myself. We have now got on a more agreeable subject, which gives us many delightful hours' conversation—namely, the beauties natural and artificial of this island. On my second visit to the Villa Marinella, I was taken into a saloon adorned with specimens of every thing Sicily could boast of: the floor was mosaic, of all her different marbles; the hangings of Sicilian silk; the walls were embellished with the paintings of Velasquez—in vases, of the alabaster of the country, bloomed every fragrant flower it produced. There was a cabinet of beautiful workmanship containing highly wrought amber, coral, and cameos; and a Sicilian museum and library of all the best books extant, of native authors ancient and modern, completed the collection. Amongst the moderns Adelina particularly pointed out to me the works of the Abate Ferrara, of Balsamo, Bourigni, and the exquisite poems of Melli and Guegli: the contents of this room afford us constant discussion. Nothing can exceed the beauty of this villa; the hand of taste has been impressed on it from the first stone to the last: it is seated in a rich vale at the foot of Etna, from which pours many a stream in foamy swiftness. The sea is seen, here and there, like a smooth glassy lake, through the dark foliage of magnificent forest trees, whose sombre hues are admirably contrasted with the brilliant tints of the orange and the vine. The myrtle, the rose, and all the choicest favourites of Flora are "poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain." The beauty of the sky, the balmy fragrance of the air, and the classical and poetical associations which the surrounding scenery brings to the mind, conspire to give a charm to this delightful spot, which no words can convey to the mind of one who has not roamed amidst its enchantments, and still less can language do justice to the feelings of him who has!

Adelina is just the being you would fancy such a scene should produce; no cloud of sorrow, or of error, seems ever to have thrown on her its dark shade; serene in conscious virtue and happiness, and resplendent in mental and physical loveliness,

"She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies."

I have this day said to this charming creature every thing that man can say, except those four words, "Will you marry me?" and was proceeding to give them utterance, when I was most unseasonably interrupted. From her surprise and confusion I augur well; whenever I am secure of my happiness you shall know it, but perhaps you are tired of all this, and are ready to say with Virgil,

Sicelides musæ, paullo majora canamus;Non omnes arbusta juvant, humilesque myricæ[10].

Yours ever,Frederick Elton.

To Charles Sedley, Esquire.Aci reale, August 3, ——Upon my soul, Sedley, you are a pretty father confessor, and give pious admonition!I am quiteindignantat your answer to my first letter from Catania; either you or I must be greatly changed since we parted. I don't think our friendship could ever have been formed, if in the first instance our sentiments had been so dissimilar. I must honestly tell you, that if you ever write me such another letter about Adelina, our correspondence ceases on that head. It is true this charming Sicilian maid is fairer than Proserpine; but am I Pluto, that could tear her from the arms of her fond parent, and from the bright sphere she now moves in, to condemn her to the shades of woe, from which she could know no return? So powerfully do I feel "the might, the majesty of loveliness," that such a thought never entered my head, nor would it yours, if you had ever seen her; for one glance of her angelic eye would, like the touch of Ithuriel's spear, put to flight all the offspring of evil. Since I wrote to you last, Adelina's manner to me has totally changed; I scarcely ever see her when I come to the villa. I can't tell what to attribute this to, unless she thinks I have said too much and too little. The matter shan't rest long in doubt;—her father goes to Catania to-morrow, and I will take that opportunity for a complete explanation. I cannot tell you how much I dread the crisis of my fate so near at hand! No folly of my own shall deprive me of a wife possessed of every charm, and every virtue, that can sweeten or adorn life. If it did, I should deserve to be condemned to that matrimonial limbo my father and his frigid Venus are so pitiably bound in. I would prefer to such a trial the most ardent Purgatory! A wife so charming and so unloving would drive me mad!Yours truly,Frederick Elton.

To Charles Sedley, Esquire.

Aci reale, August 3, ——

Upon my soul, Sedley, you are a pretty father confessor, and give pious admonition!

I am quiteindignantat your answer to my first letter from Catania; either you or I must be greatly changed since we parted. I don't think our friendship could ever have been formed, if in the first instance our sentiments had been so dissimilar. I must honestly tell you, that if you ever write me such another letter about Adelina, our correspondence ceases on that head. It is true this charming Sicilian maid is fairer than Proserpine; but am I Pluto, that could tear her from the arms of her fond parent, and from the bright sphere she now moves in, to condemn her to the shades of woe, from which she could know no return? So powerfully do I feel "the might, the majesty of loveliness," that such a thought never entered my head, nor would it yours, if you had ever seen her; for one glance of her angelic eye would, like the touch of Ithuriel's spear, put to flight all the offspring of evil. Since I wrote to you last, Adelina's manner to me has totally changed; I scarcely ever see her when I come to the villa. I can't tell what to attribute this to, unless she thinks I have said too much and too little. The matter shan't rest long in doubt;—her father goes to Catania to-morrow, and I will take that opportunity for a complete explanation. I cannot tell you how much I dread the crisis of my fate so near at hand! No folly of my own shall deprive me of a wife possessed of every charm, and every virtue, that can sweeten or adorn life. If it did, I should deserve to be condemned to that matrimonial limbo my father and his frigid Venus are so pitiably bound in. I would prefer to such a trial the most ardent Purgatory! A wife so charming and so unloving would drive me mad!

Yours truly,Frederick Elton.

A few months after the date of this last letter, Mr. Sedley received one from his friend, written at Paris, but probably from pique at the style of raillery in which he had continued to express his ideas on the subject of his love for "La bella Adelina," Mr. Elton never afterwards mentioned her name; and therefore, from that period, those Sedley received contained nothing of sufficient interest to present to the reader, who will now, however, have little difficulty in guessing the motive of the visit to Sicily, which Frederick mentions his intention of paying, in the letter which Lady Eltondale forwarded to Sir Henry Seymour, of which the subjoined is a copy. The "hopes and fears" he there speaks of, she supposed, alluded to some diplomatic appointments, as, for several months past, all his attention appeared to have been devoted to politics. And, whilst his father exulted in the hope of one day seeing the son he was so proud of "Minister Plenipotentiary" at Berlin, Petersburg, or Vienna, his fair spouse thought, with her usual sarcasm, "Frederick Elton is, no doubt, peculiarly qualified to carry on or develope the intrigues of a court, with his ridiculously romantic generosity, and high spirit, and candour! His elegant manner and his handsome person would carry every point he wished, if he would but avail himself of the influence these advantages would give him with the females, who are all-powerful in such scenes;—but the youth is much too high flown to have common sense on such matters. My Lord Eltondale is as silly on this subject as on all others, to wish to see his son in a situation where hismal-adressewill undoubtedly cover him with disgrace!"

MR. ELTON TO THE VISCOUNT ELTONDALE.Paris, July 25, ——My dear Father,I hope to be able to give you a satisfactory answer to your question of "How do you spend your time at Paris?" for I have been constantly employed, during the last year, in endeavouring to acquire the political information necessary for the public career you have chalked out for me; and this course of study I have pursued with increased ardour, since my return to this capital, with the congregation, not of preachers, but of kings, in order to compensate for the unpleasant interruption my pursuits received in spring from the marvellous apparition of the resuscitated French Emperor. I am now tired of being a gentleman at large; and if you will insist on my shining as an orator in the British senate, my maiden speech ought shortly to be made, for being five and twenty, I think I have no time to lose.I see the time approach, which we agreed on for my return to England, with a pleasure that is unalloyed by a shade of regret, as the Continent contains no object whatever of interest to me. I hope to add much to your stock of agricultural knowledge, as I have made the various modes of practising that useful art one of my principal objects of inquiry; and from Syria to Picardy I think I shall be able to describe the present processes of husbandry to your satisfaction. After all, perhaps, you will find me only an ignoramus, though I fancy myself quite an adept.I set off to-morrow to pay a short visit to Sicily. You will, no doubt, be surprised at this retrograde movement; but should my mission prove successful, I will explain the cause of it when we meet, as I cannot trust my motives to paper; and if I do not carry my wishes into execution, you will, I am sure, spare me the pain of recapitulating them. But until my hopes and fears are at an end, I at least shall not repose on a "bed of roses."I cannot well express my anxiety to see you, my ever kind father, after so long an absence! Pray remember me to Lady Eltondale. I am sorry she should so far impeach my gallantry, as to suppose it possible I could leave the letters of so fair a correspondent unanswered. I hope ere this the receipt of mine will have induced her to do me justice; if not, pray be my intercessor.By the ship Mary, bound for Plymouth, I sent Lady Eltondale some Sicilian vases and cameos, with a few bottles of ottar of roses, and some turquoises I procured at Constantinople. If her Ladyship has not received them, will you have the goodness to cause the necessary inquiries to be made at the office of my agent in London, to whom they were directed.Believe me, my dear Lord,Respectfully and affectionately yours,Frederick Elton.

MR. ELTON TO THE VISCOUNT ELTONDALE.

Paris, July 25, ——

My dear Father,

I hope to be able to give you a satisfactory answer to your question of "How do you spend your time at Paris?" for I have been constantly employed, during the last year, in endeavouring to acquire the political information necessary for the public career you have chalked out for me; and this course of study I have pursued with increased ardour, since my return to this capital, with the congregation, not of preachers, but of kings, in order to compensate for the unpleasant interruption my pursuits received in spring from the marvellous apparition of the resuscitated French Emperor. I am now tired of being a gentleman at large; and if you will insist on my shining as an orator in the British senate, my maiden speech ought shortly to be made, for being five and twenty, I think I have no time to lose.

I see the time approach, which we agreed on for my return to England, with a pleasure that is unalloyed by a shade of regret, as the Continent contains no object whatever of interest to me. I hope to add much to your stock of agricultural knowledge, as I have made the various modes of practising that useful art one of my principal objects of inquiry; and from Syria to Picardy I think I shall be able to describe the present processes of husbandry to your satisfaction. After all, perhaps, you will find me only an ignoramus, though I fancy myself quite an adept.

I set off to-morrow to pay a short visit to Sicily. You will, no doubt, be surprised at this retrograde movement; but should my mission prove successful, I will explain the cause of it when we meet, as I cannot trust my motives to paper; and if I do not carry my wishes into execution, you will, I am sure, spare me the pain of recapitulating them. But until my hopes and fears are at an end, I at least shall not repose on a "bed of roses."

I cannot well express my anxiety to see you, my ever kind father, after so long an absence! Pray remember me to Lady Eltondale. I am sorry she should so far impeach my gallantry, as to suppose it possible I could leave the letters of so fair a correspondent unanswered. I hope ere this the receipt of mine will have induced her to do me justice; if not, pray be my intercessor.

By the ship Mary, bound for Plymouth, I sent Lady Eltondale some Sicilian vases and cameos, with a few bottles of ottar of roses, and some turquoises I procured at Constantinople. If her Ladyship has not received them, will you have the goodness to cause the necessary inquiries to be made at the office of my agent in London, to whom they were directed.

Believe me, my dear Lord,Respectfully and affectionately yours,Frederick Elton.

Sir Henry Seymour, with an air of triumph, gave the above letter to Selina to read out to her aunt; at the same time casting a look at Mrs. Galton, as much as to say, "You see I was quite right. I have provided a husband for Selina, that we shall all be proud of." But her reflection on hearing it was, "I trust my affectionate, innocent, candid Selina is not destined to marry a cold-hearted designing politician. In what a style of heartless politeness does Mr. Elton speak of his father's wife! I fear he will treat his own in the same spirit of frigid etiquette;—indeed, nothing better is to be hoped, from the example he has always witnessed in his own domestic scene."

How hang those trappings on thy motley gown?They seem like garlands on the May-day queen!De Montford.

How hang those trappings on thy motley gown?They seem like garlands on the May-day queen!

De Montford.

Soon after the family at Deane Hall had lost the society of Augustus Mordaunt, they had accepted an invitation to dine at Webberly Mouse. The appointed day having arrived, and Cecilia Webberly, being fully attired for the reception of the expected guests, placed herself in a negligent attitude near one of the windows of her mother's drawing-room, with a book in her hand, not for the purpose of reading, but for that of tossing it into a chair, conveniently set for the occasion, as she had seen Lady Eltondale throw her bonnet the evening of her unexpected arrival at Deane Hall.

There could not, however, be a greater contrast, than the full-blown Cecilia Webberly presented, to the elegant fragile Viscountess. Full one half of her massive figure stood confessed to sight, without a single particle of drapery. Her immense shoulders projected far above her sleeve; in truth, her arm was bare half way to her elbow, and her back in emulation nearly to her waist, whose circumference might well be termed theArctic circle, as it was described at that distance from the pole, which exactly marked the boundary of those regions of eternal snow which rose on its upper verge. Her petticoats, descending but little below the calf of her leg, displayed its "ample round" to the utmost advantage.

But, to counterbalance this nudity, that moiety of her terrestrial frame, which was clothed, was loaded with ornaments and puffings of all descriptions, with reduplicated rows of lace and riband, which most injudiciously increased her natural bulk; and the little covering which was above her waist, differing in colour and texture from that below, made the apparent seem still less than the real length of her garments. Nor did Cecilia's countenance and manner more nearly resemble Lady Eltondale than her dress and figure, as what was quiet elegance in the latter, might, without any great breach of Christian charity, be mistaken for stupid insipidity in the former.

Miss Webberly had not yet finished the repetition of her anticipatedimpromptus; and her mother had left the room to reiterate her directions about the dinner, so that the fair attitudinist had no spectator of her various rehearsals, except the unaffected Adelaide.

"And what was her garb?—"I cannot well describe the fashion of it."She was not deck'd in any gallant trim,"But seem'd to me clad in the usual weeds"Of high habitual state."Such artless and majestic elegance,"So exquisitely just, so nobly simple,"Might make the gorgeous blush."

But Cecilia Webberly was quite unused toblushing, though she might sometimes redden with passion, and was equally unconscious of her striking inferiority to her unstudied companion. At last the entrance of the Seymour family presented another contrast to the brazen Colossus in Selina's sylph-like form, vivacious eye, and glowing cheek:—

"The one love's arrows darting round,"The other blushing at the wound!"

Mrs. Sullivan and her eldest daughter hastened to pay their compliments to their company, the one in the language of Cheapside, the other in all the flowers of rhetoric; and the rest of the expected guests soon after arriving, they all proceeded to the dining-room, Mrs. Sullivan insisting on giving Selina "percussion," (for so she termed precedence) to the blushing girl's infinite annoyance, who, never having dined out before, was unaccustomed to take place of the woman whom, of all others, she most respected: however her painful pre-eminence at the head of the table was almost compensated by her aunt sitting next her, and thus hedging her in from the rest of the company.

The dinner—an object of too much consequence to be passed over unnoticed in the present state of society—was evidently dressed by a man cook; but as Mrs. Sullivan had insisted on making her own alterations in the bill of fare, she had put the poor man in a passion; and, as a natural consequence, the whole was a manqué, no unapt model of the family, presenting vulgarity, finery, and high seasoning out of place.

The warmth of Mrs. Sullivan's temperature was considerably increased by her vocal and manual exertions; whilst her son was much puzzled to reconcile thenonchalancehe believed fashionable, with the desire he had to show Selina that obsequious attention he deemed judicious. But though his tongue was incessantly employed in Miss Seymour's service, (for the poor girl would have died of a surfeit if she had taken a fourth part of the eatables he pressed on her acceptance,) his eyes were involuntarily attracted to Adelaide, who, amidst the confusion of tongues, was keeping up a seemingly animated conversation with a very handsome young man, the eldest son of Mr. Thornbull, who sat next her. Of this Mr. Webberly did not approve; and therefore gave her every possible interruption, but all in vain. For no sooner did she answer his inquiry, or assent to his request, than she resumed her conversation, which seemed much more to interest her; and, for the first time, he thought the quick succession of smiles, that passed over her countenance when she conversed, did not become her so much as its placid expression when she was silent.

At length Selina heard the welcome sound of "Vill you like any more vine, Miss Seymour?" and this well understood summons relieved her from her place of penance.

Soon after the ladies had retired to the drawing-room, they separated, some adjourning to the music-room, some to the green-house, and Miss Seymour gladly accepted Adelaide's invitation to proceed from it to the garden. Selina had, before dinner was half over, thought Miss Wildenheim "the most delightful girl in the world!" But she was too diffident of her own claims to attention to have sought her acquaintance so immediately; though, with her usual precipitation, she felt already convinced she should love her all her life, if she were never to see her again. "She is too elegant, too clever, to like an unpolished girl like me," thought Selina. But in this she was mistaken; for Adelaide bestowed as much admiration on her untutored charms, as her own more polished graces excited in Miss Seymour's mind, though she manifested her approbation in a more sober manner; for, besides being three years older than Selina, she had, unfortunately, had more opportunity of having youth's first happy feelings chilled by the bitter blasts of capricious fortune.

When Selina found, from Adelaide's expressive manner, that she might say to herself, "She really does like me," her surprise and delight knew no bounds; and, if she had before thought the object of her enthusiasm the most charming of the daughters of Eve, she was now nothing less than an angel. Her pleasure did not escape her new friend's notice; for Selina was too ingenuous to conceal any thing. Adelaide's countenance was illuminated with one of those joyful smiles, which had brightened it in better days, as she mentally exclaimed, "Happy creature!" But she sighed with real sorrow, as she instantaneously recollected the fleeting nature of youthful impressions, "when thought is speech, and speech is truth."

During the time Selina had employed in her own mind to sign and seal an everlasting friendship with her new acquaintance, they visited the pagoda and hermitage, sat under the marquée, where they found the novel which had been Miss Cecilia Webberly's morning study, and had looked in vain for the gold and silver fishes; for Mrs. Sullivan was too fashionable to dine long before sunset, even in the height of summer. Their fruitless search for their aqueous favourites reminded them of the lateness of the hour; and they had begun to retrace their steps towards the house, when a pretty rosy child, about seven years old, with dancing eyes and disordered hair, came skipping up to them. "This sweet child, Miss Seymour," said Adelaide, "is Caroline Sullivan, my dear little companion." Selina kissed the child, partly for its own beauty, partly for the sake of its patroness; and the little urchin, hearing the name of Miss Seymour, said, in an arch tone, "I have a secret for you, Miss Seymour—a great secret." "And what is yourgreatsecret, my pretty little love?" asked Selina. "Why, do you know, brother is going to make love to you?—Mama bid him. And he said he would, for he thinks you have a great deal of money; but for all that he says, my dear Adele is handsomer than you—and I think so too—I believe," said the little thing, stopping to look up at them both. The young ladies were so astonished, that at first they had not power to stop the child's harangue, but both coloured scarlet red from offended pride; and, when their eyes met, the picture of the all-conquering hero and his mama rising at once to Selina's mind in the most ludicrous point of view, she burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter, in which Adelaide could not resist joining. The child, from their mirth, thought they were pleased with her observations; and, believing she had said something clever, continued in the same strain; whilst, by grave faces, and knit brows, and remonstrating, they endeavoured in vain to check her volubility.—Car on ne se quérit pas d'un défaut qui plait."Good Lord! what shall we do?" said Selina, half laughing, half crying; for the little girl, in the exuberance of her mirth, seemed bent on following them into the house, with a repetition of her information, when luckily they thought of diverting her attention; and so taking her one by each arm, they almost carried her completely round the pleasure-ground; and, by chattering and running, succeeded in diverting the channel of her thoughts, and were not a little rejoiced that, on their entrance into the drawing-room, Miss Webberly, in a peremptory tone of "brief authority," ordered the little troublesome urchin to bed.

The ladies were all assembled, and Miss Wildenheim thought it necessary to apologise for their absence; and Selina, immediately walking up to her aunt, excused herself, and wondered she had left her so long, for the advanced state of tea and coffee told her it was late.

When Miss Wildenheim, in reply to some observation addressed to her by Mrs. Temple, entered into general conversation, Selina was as much surprised as delighted by the graceful ease of her manner; and, in the simplicity of her ideas, wondered how she could be so enlivening, and at the same time so elegant. "It is not odd," thought she, "that Lady Eltondale is elegant, for she is so quiet, she has plenty of time to do every thing in the most beautiful manner; but, though she is very elegant, she is not at all entertaining, while Miss Wildenheim is both."

Though Adelaide's character was ever the same, the style of her conversation varied with every different person she conversed with. She was generallyanimated, though seldom gay; and the liveliness of her discourse was owing to her possessing not only an uncommonly clear perception of the ideas of others, but also an equally clear arrangement of her own, which gave her conversation a lucidity, that elicited the thinking powers of her auditors; so that if she was not absolutely witty herself, she was often at least "the cause of wit in others." She was habitually cheerful, and generally self-possessed, except when her feelings were accidentally excited, and they lay too deep to be called forth in the common intercourse of society. In a word, her vivacity proceeded less from the buoyancy of animal spirits, as passing as youth itself, than from the satisfaction of a soul at peace with itself, and of a mind amused by a constant flow of intellect.

The entrance of the gentlemen transferred Miss Cecilia Webberly, and of course her guests, from the drawing-room to the music saloon. Here again her fine voice, like her fine person, was spoiled by affectation, and by an attempt at displaying a taste, of which nature had denied her mind any just perceptions. She had acquired from her master a would-be expression, which consisted of a regular alternation of piano and forte, as completely distinct as the black and white squares of a chess board, with corresponding movements of her eyes and shoulders; thetout ensembleseeming to the hearer like a succession of unprepared screams, neither leaving him the peace of a monotonous repose, nor affording him the charm of variety. "By heavens, I would as soon be shut up in a room with a trumpeter; she has voice enough to blow a man's brains out!" said young Mr. Thornbull to Mr. Temple, while his ears yet tingled with Cecilia's last shout. "I am sure Miss Wildenheim sings in a very different manner." "I am not sure," replied his reverend auditor, smiling, "that she sings at all. If she does, no doubt her judgment is as correct in music as in every thing else;—however, let us see:"—and walking up to Mrs. Sullivan, they begged of her to procure them a specimen of Miss Wildenheim's musical abilities. Adelaide complied with a look and a curtsy, that bespoke the pardon of her imperfections, and which, strange to say, procured a temporary absolution for her charms, even from those to whom they were most obnoxious.

The young man was too much engaged in watching the playful variety of her countenance when she sung (for she never looked half so charming as when singing), to criticise her performance, but took for granted it was divine, and so must

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