 To suppose he could be less amiable, less deserving of her attachment, would have appeared to her a crime of the most enormous magnitude. Thus did the fond effusions of love throw a veil over the eyes of their artless votary, in order to give a fair colouring, and to reconcile her to a conduct which, in another, her prudence would have taught her to condemn; but thus it is with too many erring mortals: when once they become the hood-winked slaves of any predominant passion, they are not only regardless of the world's opinion, but insensible to the secret admonitions of that silent monitor, which they carry in their bosom. Roseline as first acted merely from the generous impulse of pity and universal benevolence; but, in so doing, she admitted a guest to dispute with them a place in her breast, which neither time, reason, nor prudence, could banish thence.

Our artless heroine was unfortunately the darling child of sensibility, and her mind so susceptible of the miseries and misfortunes of others, that, from the moment she discovered them, they became her own. What then must be the poignancy of her feelings, when she reflected on the dependent, helpless, and unprovided state of a lover, dearer to her than life!—who dared not disclose even his name,—whose blameless conduct proved to her partial judgement that he suffered unjustly, and whose virtues could alone reconcile her to herself for having risked so much on his account, and entrusted her heart to the keeping of one whose situation precluded hope,—who had declared he belonged to no one,—a prisoner, a stranger, without fortune or friends: yet, think as she would, these cruel circumstances, after the strictest investigation, acted as a talisman in favour of her lover.

The life, which she fancied, under Providence, she had been the humble means of preserving, she concluded it was now her duty to render happy; therefore, to deprive it of its value, by affecting an indifference she did not feel, was as far from her power as her inclination; yet there were moments when she recollected, with the severest anguish, how much her brother, as well as herself, was acting in opposition to the designs and will of her parent. To deceive such parents was a thought which, in her most impassioned moments, she could not dwell upon, but love and sensibility had woven their webs so close around her heart, that she struggled in vain to disentangle herself from the bewitching snare.

Sensibility I have long thought, nine times out of ten, proves
