To the vanity of intellect Miss Henderson added the vanity of sentiment. She had read something in books about the heart, and about sentiment and feeling, and so on; and she thought that there must be something fine in that concerning which so many fine words had been used. Thereupon, with that conceit she added sentimentality to the rest of her acquirements; and an acquirement in good truth it really was, seeing that it was by no means natural. Not the less fluently could the young lady discourse on that subject, because she knew nothing about it; but, on the other hand, she set herself up as a judge and censor-general on all her acquaintances and the world beside on the subject of sensibility of heart. She had enjoyed many opportunities of falling in love, and those which she had enjoyed she had not overlooked. Many and many a time was her heart lost, but never irrecoverably. Few were the gentlemen who thought it very prudent to venture to pay serious court to a young lady of lofty thoughts and lowly means. A very slight degree of notice was sufficient however to set if not her heart in flames, at least her tongue in motion to her confidential friends concerning sentiment and sensibility, and all that sort of thing.
Such a companion as this was by no means fit for Clara Rivolta. But Mr. Martindale saw not the real character of the young lady, and Miss Henderson was wise enough to flatter the old gentleman into a conceit that she considered him as one of the few enlightened men of the age; and as Mr. Martindale himself was one of those oddities who think all the world blockheads but themselves, he was not displeased with that kind of homage which Miss Henderson paid him: and as Mr. Martindale was one of the very few single gentlemen whom Miss Henderson had seen and had not fallen in love with, she was not quite so disagreeable to him as she was to many others. Mr. Martindale, therefore, tolerated the acquaintance with Clara; and as for Signora Rivolta, it appeared that Miss Henderson had sagacity enough to see that she was not to be imposed on or deceived by foolish talk, and therefore she avoided exposing herself to her.
In person Miss Henderson was by no means disagreeable, she was rather pretty. There was it is true a little deficiency in height and a little redundancy in breadth; but still there was nothing remarkable one way or the other. She dressed in very good taste, and her ordinary manner was good. It is wicked, or at least very thoughtless, in young men to pay unmeaning attentions to any young lady, but especially to such very sentimental ones as Miss Henderson: frequently had she been rendered unhappy by this thoughtlessness. Now it is very silly for young men to boast of the hearts they win; and in winning such a heart as we are now speaking of there is certainly nothing to boast of, for any one was sure to succeed provided there was a vacancy. At the time of which we are writing, the fragrant Henry Augustus Tippetson was the favored and honored companion of Miss Henderson's walks; and it is difficult to say which was the prettiest animal of the two, Mr. Tippetson or his little white French dog. They were at one time always to be seen together at a certain hour of the day in the Green Park. They seemed to have a great fellow feeling, and both looked as spruce and neat as if they had both been dressed by the same valet. Mr. Tippetson, though something of a coxcomb, and considered to be vain of his person, still was so far diffident of himself as to use the assistance of his little quadruped companion to attract attention to himself. Often has he acknowledged, or rather boasted, that his little dog has been the means of bringing him into conversation with those whom otherwise he should not have had an opportunity of addressing; and oftentimes it has been supposed that it was Henry Augustus Tippetson's private opinion, that his little French dog was considered by the ladies as a very pretty excuse for taking notice of the pretty owner of the same.
Now it was the natural unsophisticated opinion of Clara Rivolta that Mr. Tippetson was an empty-headed, effeminate coxcomb, not worth notice, and absolutely incorrigible by any other discipline but that of time. But Miss Henderson had discovered, or fancied she had discovered, that Mr. Tippetson was not so great a coxcomb as he appeared to be. She acknowledged, indeed, that he was very attentive to his dress and his person; and very candidly did she make allowance for a little error in that respect, as he was but young, and she had heard it said that it is better to be too attentive in youth than too negligent in age in that respect. As for Mr. Tippetson's lisping, she was very sure that was perfectly natural and unavoidable. The use of perfumery was become absolutely necessary from the frequency of crowded apartments. As to the apparent diversity between the studying and the learned Miss Henderson, and the lounging, indolent, unreading habits of Mr. Tippetson, the difference was rather apparent than real, according to the young lady's own account of the matter: for though Mr. Tippetson was not at present much in the habit of reading, he had been formerly, and his mind was by no means unfurnished; he was a man of very great observation, and was constantly making remarks and observations on every thing he saw or heard. So that Miss Henderson was quite sure that when Clara came to be better acquainted with the young gentleman, she must think better of him. Thus it is that foolery is tolerated. Look at a coxcomb at a little distance, and observe his silly airs. The animal is absolutely nauseous, and his whole manner and style villanous and contemptible. But a more intimate acquaintance makes a discovery of some bearable qualities; and familiarity renders the odious less odious; and then it is thought that there are more qualities existing in him than have been discovered, because more have been discovered than were suspected. So foppery and foolery are tolerated from habit and intimacy.
This process of mind, from contempt to toleration, has been experienced by more disciplined minds than Clara's. No wonder that a young woman so unacquainted with human society should be led to sacrifice her better judgment to the plausibilities of so well-informed a person as Miss Henderson. Clara was far from perfection, though she was a most excellent and amiable creature, and was possessed of a tolerably sound judgment. She was accessible to flattery, and loved praise. It was not in her power or will to discriminate aright on that matter. Signora Rivolta had instructed and educated her daughter very much by the impulse of encouragement. That mode had produced many good effects, but it had its evils. Clara had become too susceptible of commendation, and her appetite was too strong to suffer her taste to be delicate. Thus there arose a kind of sentimental friendship between the two young ladies; in which intercourse of sentiment Miss Henderson had the advantage and the greatest power, not from superior strength of mind, or greater accuracy of discrimination, but because it had been her lot to enjoy a larger portion of experience or knowledge of human society.
It might be imagined that a woman of such superior mind as Signora Rivolta, would have given to her only child, whose education she had by herself totally conducted, such information and such views of society and human nature, as to render her so well acquainted with life that she might not be a dupe of its ordinary deceptions. But this is not possible. Solitary education can never fit the mind for society; the social education must commence when the solitary has finished. Young people cannot understand the language of experience. Signora Rivolta might even have described with the utmost truth and philosophic accuracy the character of Miss Henderson, and might have given her child the strictest and most earnest injunctions to guard herself against its fascinations; and Clara might have been most attentive to the instruction, and desirous of obeying it, but when the character presented itself in real life she would not have recognised it.