One by one, however, the houses on which he chiefly relied became tenantless, and nothing seemed to await him but poverty and wretchedness.
But then Miss Manners! Like a star in the heavens, she became brighter as his prospects darkened; and yet he feared that, like a star, he could only admire her at a distance. He had told his love to the listening winds; he had whispered it to his pillow; he had mingled his plaint with that of the running brooks. But, to human ear, he had breathed it neither in sighs nor words. Him, a wanderer and an outcast, what maid could ever love? Could he have asked Miss Manners to share happiness with him, the case might have been otherwise; but what must be his fate when he had only wretchedness to offer? He thought of her till she became purely a being of his imagination; and, being all that his imagination could paint her, she became too much for him to hope ever to possess.
It is difficult to say what, at this early stage of their acquaintance, were Miss Manners’ feelings towards Jones. Certain it is, however, that she had conceived for him a kind of romantic interest. She was eccentric in her disposition, but fervent in her attachments; and, without knowing much about him, she had, partly from compassion and partly, perhaps, from a secret love of being regarded singular, uniformly advocated his cause whenever occasion offered.
One evening, two or three young girls were assembled at the manse. They were the daughters of a person of some consideration in the place, and Miss Manners’ occasional associates. After tea, Mr. Manners withdrew to his studies; and, as the evening had set in rather cold, the ladies drew near the fire to converse.
“Come, now,” said Miss Manners, as she stirred the fire till it blazed and crackled right merrily, “let us make ourselves comfortable and happy. Emily, here”—sitting down beside the dullest of her guests—“looks as sad as if she had just lost her sweetheart.”
“Oh, she’ll be thinking of Willie Green!” said another of the girls.
A third giggled. Emily looked sad; and Miss Manners cheered her by remarking that Willie was a very decent fellow.
“He’s no sweetheart of mine,” said Emily, indifferently, at the same time glancing up to the ceiling.
An enormous “Good gracious!” or some such expression, rushed to the eyes of another of the girls; but, as Miss Manners had checked her, she did not get telling how often she had seen her and Willie together, and how well known it was that the day was all but fixed.
“Now, don’t tease her,” said Miss Manners. “I see we must change the subject.”