Anna Maria's heart was too full to give utterance in words, but a violent fit of weeping relieved her, and Julia's embraces won her confidence. She unburthened her sorrow to this affectionate sister.
"I do not regret Isabel's marriage, Julia, or my own singlehood, so lamented by my mother:—it is not that I deplore; but I was taught to—I was assured—" another long fit of weeping succeeded, and again Julia soothed the choking violence of her sister's grief. An interval of calm allowed poor Anna Maria to proceed.
"If I had not been taught to consider Tom Pynsent as an assured lover—if my mother had not persevered in holding him up to my view as a model of perfection, and woven his idea into my very nature, I should not have loved so fondly the man you despise, Julia."
Julia gazed at her sister in mute astonishment, as she grew energetic in her subject.
"If I had foolishly sought his society, I might have merited the pain I have endured; but, Julia, my mother raved about him:—his affections were considered the only proper aim of female ambition—he was courted by her, and he was always near me. My mother sought his fortune, but I attached myself to his person, and I am cast aside by both. Pynsent, I know, believes me ambitious and sordid, and my mother considers me no longer a safe speculation. I have been the victim of her heedless calculations!"
"My dear, dear sister!" exclaimed Julia, bursting into tears.
"Who can repay me for all my useless suffering?" continued Anna Maria, in still more energetic tones, her eyes flashing fire. "Who will return me the peace of mind I have lost—the tranquillity of my early days—the first happy hours of my gaiety? Who had a right to betray my heart, and trample upon my hopes, when I was too young and ignorant of harm to discover the snare? What has my mother done for me? I was her eldest born, her hope, and companion, and what has she done for me but cast me into misery, and made my life a burthen!"
"Oh, my poor dear sister!" cried Julia, in deep distress; "and under your quiet manner, you really loved Tom Pynsent?"
"I loved him truly and for ever," replied Anna Maria, the fire of her dark eyes sinking into humidity, as the current of her thoughts dwelt alone upon the man she adored. "I can see no faults in the creature you deprecate—he may be the character you describe, but to me he is sacred: I love him, and though he shall never know it, I will die for him."