CHAP. IV.
Pity, and the forlorn ſeriouſneſs of adverſity, have both been conſidered as diſpoſitions favourable to love, while ſatirical writers have attributed the propenſity to the relaxing effect of idleneſs, what chance then had Maria of eſcaping, when pity, ſorrow, and ſolitude all conſpired to ſoften her mind, and nouriſh romantic wiſhes, and, from a natural progreſs, romantic expectations?
Maria was ſix-and-twenty. But, ſuch was the native ſoundneſs of her conſtitution, that time had only given to her countenance the character of her mind. Revolving thought, and exerciſed affections had baniſhed ſome of the playful graces of innocence, producing inſenſibly that irregularity of features which the ſtruggles of the underſtanding to trace or govern the ſtrong emotions of the heart, are wont to imprint on the yielding maſs. Grief and care had mellowed, without obſcuring, the bright tints of youth, and the thoughtfulneſs which reſided on her brow did not take from the feminine ſoftneſs of her features; nay, ſuch was the ſenſibility which often mantled over it, that ſhe frequently appeared, like a large proportion of her ſex, only born to feel; and the activity of her well-proportioned, and even almoſt voluptuous figure, inſpired the idea of ſtrength of mind, rather than of body. There was a ſimplicity ſometimes indeed in her manner, which bordered on infantine ingenuouſneſs, that led people of common diſcernment to underrate her talents, and ſmile at the flights of her imagination. But thoſe who could not comprehend the delicacy of her ſentiments, were attached by her unfailing ſympathy, ſo that ſhe was very generally beloved by characters of very different deſcriptions; ſtill, ſhe was too much under the influence of an ardent imagination to adhere to common rules.
There are miſtakes of conduct which at five-and-twenty prove the ſtrength of the mind, that, ten or fifteen years after, would demonſtrate its weakneſs, its incapacity to acquire a ſane judgment. The youths who are ſatiſfied with the ordinary pleaſures of life, and do not ſigh after ideal phantoms of love and friendſhip, will never arrive at great maturity of underſtanding; but if theſe reveries are cheriſhed, as is too frequently the caſe with women, when experience ought to have taught them in what human happineſs conſiſts, they become as uſeleſs as they are wretched. Beſides, their pains and pleaſures are ſo dependent on outward circumſtances, on the objects of their affections, that they ſeldom act from the impulſe of a nerved mind, able to chooſe its own purſuit.
Having had to ſtruggle inceſſantly with the vices of mankind, Maria's imagination found repoſe in pourtraying the poſſible virtues the world might contain. Pygmalion formed an ivory maid, and longed for an informing ſoul. She, on the contrary, combined all the qualities of a hero's mind, and fate preſented a ſtatue in which ſhe might enſhrine them.
We mean not to trace the progreſs of this paſſion, or recount how often Darnford and Maria were obliged to part in the midſt of an intereſting converſation. Jemima ever watched on the tip-toe of fear, and frequently ſeparated them on a falſe alarm, when they would have given worlds to remain a little longer together.
A magic lamp now ſeemed to be ſuſpended in Maria's priſon, and fairy landſcapes flitted round the gloomy walls, late ſo blank. Ruſhing from the depth of deſpair, on the ſeraph wing of hope, ſhe found herſelf happy.—She was beloved, and every emotion was rapturous.
To Darnford ſhe had not ſhown a decided affection; the fear of outrunning his, a ſure proof of love, made her often aſſume a coldneſs and indifference foreign from her character; and, even when giving way to the playful emotions of a heart juſt looſened from the frozen bond of grief, there was a delicacy in her manner of expreſſing her ſenſibility, which made him doubt whether it was the effect of love.
One evening, when Jemima left them, to liſten to the ſound of a diſtant footſtep, which ſeemed cautiouſly to approach, he ſeized Maria's hand—it was not withdrawn. They converſed with earneſtneſs of their ſituation; and, during the converſation, he once or twice gently drew her towards him. He felt the fragrance of her breath, and longed, yet feared, to touch the lips from which it iſſued; ſpirits of purity ſeemed to guard them, while all the enchanting graces of love ſported on her cheeks, and languiſhed in her eyes.