‘Strangely wild, or madly gay,
I call’d it only pretty Fanny’s way.’
“Fortunately, just as I was in imminent danger of exchanging true sighs for false smiles, I became acquainted with your sister Rosamond. In the country, and under circumstances more favourable for the development of character than any which might occur for months or years in a town-life, where all the men and women are merely actors, I had leisure to see and mark the difference and the resemblance between Lady Frances Arlington’s character, and that of your sister. They resembled each other in natural quickness of intellect and of feeling; in wit, sprightliness, and enthusiasm, they were also to a certain degree alike. I was amused by Lady Frances Arlington’s lively nonsense, till I heard your sister’s lively sense. Her ladyship hazards saying every thing that occurs to her, and often makes happy hits; but your sister’s style of wit is far superior, and far more agreeable, because it has the grace, elegance, and, above all, the infinite variety which literary allusion supplies. I found myself pleased, not only with what she said, but with the trains of ideas, that, by a single word, she often suggested. Conversing with her, my mind was kept always active, without ever being over-exerted or fatigued. I can look back, and trace the whole progress of my attachment. I began in this way, by finding her conversation most delightful—but soon discovered that she was not only more entertaining and more cultivated, but far more amiable than my idol, Lady Frances, because she had never been an idol, and did not expect to be adored. Then she was more interesting, because more capable of being interested. Lady Frances requires much sympathy, but gives little; and for that enthusiasm of temper which had, at first, charmed me in her ladyship, I began to lose my taste, when I observed that it was always excited by trifles, and by trifles that concerned herself more than any one else. I used to think her—what every body calls her, a perfectly natural character; and so, perhaps, she is: but not the better for that—since she is what, I am afraid, we all are naturally—selfish. Her ladyship, if I may use the expression, is enthusiastically selfish. Your sister—enthusiastically generous. Lady Frances’s manners are caressing, yet I doubt whether she feels affection for any one living, except just at the moment when they are ministering to her fancies. It was Miss Percy’s warm affection for her sister Caroline which first touched my heart. I saw each in her own family. The contrast was striking—in short, by the joint effect of contrast and resemblance, my love for one lady decreased as fast as it increased for the other; and I had just wit and judgment enough to escape from snares that could not have held me long, to chains that have power to hold me for ever.”
To this history of the birth and progress of his love, Mr. Temple added many expressions of his hopes, fears, and regrets, that he had not five thousand a year, instead of five hundred, to offer his mistress; he at length became absolutely silent. They were within view of the Hills, and too many feelings crowded upon his mind to be expressed in words.
And now we might reasonably contrive to fill
“Twelve vast French romances neatly gilt,”
with the history of the following eventful fortnight, including the first surprise at the arrival of the travellers—the declaration of Mr. Temple’s love—the astonishment of Rosamond on discovering that she was the object of this passion—of a passion so generous and ardent—the consequent and rapid discovery of a hundred perfections in the gentleman which had before escaped her penetration—the strong peculiar temptation to marry him, because he had not enough to live upon—the reaction of generosity on the other side of the question, which forbade to ruin her lover’s fortune—the fluctuations of sentiment and imagination, the delicacies of generosity, gratitude, love, and finally the decision of common sense.
It was fortunate for Rosamond, not only that she had prudent friends, but that they had not made her in the least afraid of their superior wisdom, so that she had, from the time she was a child, told them every idea, as it rose in her vivid imagination, and every feeling of her susceptible heart; imprudent as she might appear in her confidential conversation, this never passed from words to actions. And now, when she was called upon in an important event of life to decide for herself, she acted with consummate discretion.
Mr. Temple’s character and manners peculiarly pleased her, and his being a man of birth and family certainly operated much in his favour. Her parents now, as in Mr. Gresham’s case, did not suffer their own tastes or prepossessions to interfere with her happiness.
Caroline, grateful for the sympathy which Rosamond had always shown her, took the warmest interest in this affair. Caroline was the most excellent, indulgent, yet safe confidante; and as a hearer, she was absolutely indefatigable. Rosamond never found her too busy, too lazy, or too sleepy to listen to her: late at night, early in the morning, or in the most hurried moment, of the day, it was all the same—Caroline seemed to have nothing to do but to hear, think, and feel for Rosamond.
The fortnight allowed by Lord Oldborough having now nearly elapsed, it was absolutely necessary Rosamond should come to some decision. Mr. Temple’s understanding, temper, disposition, and manners, she allowed to be excellent—his conversation was particularly agreeable. In short, after searching in vain for an objection, she was obliged to confess that she liked him. Indeed, before she had allowed this in words her mother and sister had made the discovery, and had seen the struggle in her mind between love and prudence. Mr. Temple’s fortune was not sufficient for them to live upon, and she knew that a wife in his present circumstances must be a burden to him; therefore, notwithstanding all that his passion and all that her own partiality could urge, she decidedly refused his proposal of an immediate union, nor would she enter into any engagement, or suffer him to bind himself by any promise for the future; but he obtained permission to correspond with her during his absence from England, and with the hope that she was not quite indifferent to him, he took leave of her—returned to town—waited upon Lord Oldborough—accepted of the embassy, and prepared for his departure to the continent.