Coelebs In Search of a Wife

by Hannah More

The next morning, as soon as I thought Mr. Stanley had retreated to his library, I followed him thither. He was busy writing letters. I apologized for my intrusion. He laid his papers aside, and invited me to sit by him.

"You are too good, sir," said I, "to receive with so much kindness a culprit who appears before you ingenuously to acknowledge the infraction of a treaty into which he had the honor of entering with you. I fear that a few days are wanting of my prescribed month. I had resolved to obey you with the most religious scrupulousness; but a circumstance, trifling in itself, has led almost irresistibly to a declaration, which in obedience to your command I had resolved to postpone. But though it is somewhat premature, I hope, however, you will not condemn my precipitancy. I have ventured to tell your charming daughter how necessary she is to my happiness. She does not reject me. She refers me to her father."

"You have your peace to make with my daughter, I can tell you, sir," said Mr. Stanley, looking gravely; "I fear you have mortally offended her."

I was dreadfully alarmed. "You know not how you afflict me, sir," said I: "how have I offended Miss Stanley?"

"Not Miss Stanley," said he, smiling, "but Miss Celia Stanley, who extremely resents having been banished from the drawing-room yesterday evening."

"If Celia's displeasure is all I have to fear, sir, I am most fortunate. Oh, sir, my happiness, the peace of my future life, is in your hands. But first tell me you forgive the violation of my promise."

"I am willing to believe, Charles," replied he, "that you kept the spirit of your engagement, though you broke it in the letter; and for an unpremeditated breach of an obligation of this nature, we must not, I believe, be too rigorous. Your conduct since your declaration to me has confirmed the affection which your character had before excited. You were probably surprised and hurt at my cold reception of your proposal, a proposal which gave me a deeper satisfaction than I can express. Yet I was no dissembler in suppressing the pleasure I felt at an address so every way desirable. My dear Charles, I know a little of human nature. I know how susceptible the youthful heart is of impressions. I know how apt these impressions are to be obliterated—a new face, a more advantageous connection—"

"Hold, sir," said I, indignantly interrupting him, "you can not think so meanly of me—you can not rate the son of your friend so low!"

"I am very far indeed," replied he, "from rating you low. I know you abhor mercenary considerations; but I know also that you are a young man, lively, ardent, impressible. I know the rapid effect that leisure, retirement, rural scenes, daily opportunities of seeing a young woman not ugly, of conversing with a young woman not disagreeable, may produce on the heart, or rather on the imagination. I was aware that seeing no other, conversing with no other, none at least that, to speak honestly, I could consider as a fair competitor, hardly left you an unprejudiced judge of the state of your own heart. I was not sure but that this sort of easy commerce might produce a feeling of complacency which might be mistaken for love. I could not consent that mere accident, mere leisure, the mere circumstance of being thrown together, should irrevocably entangle either of you. I was desirous of affording you time to see, to know, and to judge. I would not take advantage of your first emotions. I would not take advantage of your friendship for me. I would not take advantage of your feeling ardently, till I had given you time to judge temperately and fairly."

I assured him I was equally at a loss to express my gratitude for his kindness, and my veneration of his wisdom; and thanked him in terms of affectionate energy.