"No," was the brief answer.
"Surely, Charles Weston, you think me a simpleton. Does not every parent love its child by natural instinct?"
"No: no more than you love any of your amusements from instinct. If the parent was present with a child that he did not know to be his own, would instinct, think you, discover their vicinity?"
"Certainly not, if they had never met before; but then, as soon as he knew it to be his, he would love it from nature."
"It is a complicated question, and one that involves a thousand connected feelings," said Charles. "But all love, at least all love of the heart, springs from the causes you mentioned to your aunt—good offices, a dependence on each other, and habit."
"Yes, and nature too," said the young lady rather positively; "and I contend, that natural love, and love from sympathy, are two distinct things."
"Very different, I allow," said Charles; "only I very much doubt the durability of that affection which has no better foundation than fancy."
"You use such queer terms, Charles, that you do not treat the subject fairly. Calling innate evidence of worth by the name of fancy, is not candid."
"Now, indeed, your own terms puzzle me," said Charles, smiling. "What is innate evidence of worth?"
"Why, a conviction that another possesses all that you esteem yourself, and is discovered by congenial feelings and natural sympathies."