 as the primrose, or the violet, and that every traveller through the path of life might enjoy a share of their sweetness.
Meanwhile Frederick Seymour grew more and more wretched. Sometimes, with a degree of sophistry which passion dictated, he reasoned himself into a persuasion that it would be more generous to undeceive Charlotte, by making known to her the real state of his mind, than to

impose on her credulity, by receiving her hand, when his heart was devoted to another. But a high sense of honor soon overturned this wretched casuistry. To inflict anguish on a heart which reposed on him with unsuspicious confidence, was an idea he could not long support; and he knew Julia's rectitude of mind too well, not to be convinced that such a conduct would banish him from her sight for ever. He felt that every principle of justice, and generosity, demanded the absolute sacrifice of his own feelings; and he determined to marry Charlotte, to make her happiness his chief object, and to confine his wretchedness within his own bosom.
Yet, while he formed these laudable resolutions, he contrived, with strange infatuation, to cherish his unhappy passion. One evening Charlotte, while she was making tea, requested Julia to try some new music, which she had received from London, on the piano forte. Julia pulled off her gloves, and placed them hastily on

her lap: one of them dropped on the floor while she was playing. Frederick Seymour, who was walking up and down the room, seized a moment when Charlotte was talking to Mrs. Seymour, and pretending to be looking over some songs which lay on the piano forte, dropped one of them on the spot where the glove lay, which he contrived to pick up, at the same time putting it hastily into his bosom. When Julia had finished the piece of music, she rose from the piano forte, and missed one of her gloves: she stooped to look for it, and Frederick Seymour affected to be busy in looking for it too; but in a few moments left the room with precipitation. Julia continued a little longer her vain search, and then hastened to join the company, disturbed and uneasy from a suspicion of what had really happened, which arose in her mind upon Seymour's leaving the room.
Seymour, when he reached his own apartment, locked the door, pulled the

precious prize from his bosom, pressed it to his heart and lips ten thousand times, and was guilty of the most passionate extravagancies.
Affection, like genius, can build its structures "on the baseless fabric
