 to have taken an ungenerous
advantage of that regard, it lost much of it's force, and resentment and
disdain succeeded.

Delamere tried to appease her by protestations of inviolable respect, of
eternal esteem, and unalterable love. But there was something of triumph
even in his humblest entreaties, that served but to encrease the anger
Emmeline felt; and she told him that the only way to convince her he had
for her those sentiments he pretended, was to carry her back immediately
to Mrs. Ashwood's, or rather to Lord Montreville, there to acknowledge
the attempt he had made, and that it's failure had been solely owing to
her determined adherence to her word.

Delamere, presuming on his ascendancy over her, attempted to interest
her passions rather than tranquillize her reason. He represented to her
how great would be her triumph when he presented her as his wife to the
imperious Lady Montreville, who had treated her with so much unmerited
scorn, and set her above the haughty Fanny Delamere, who had insulted
her with fancied superiority.

But Emmeline had in her breast none of those passions that find their
gratification in humbling an enemy. Too generous for revenge; too gentle
for premeditated resentment; she saw these circumstances in a very
different light, and felt that she should be rather mortified than
elated by being forced into a family who wished to reject her.

Sir Richard Crofts, the object of Delamere's hatred and detestation, was
the subject of those acrimonious reflections that his respect for his
father and mother prevented his throwing on them. The influence of this
man had, he said, made Lord Montreville deaf to the voice of nature, and
forgetful of his own honour; while he was plunged into the dark and
discreditable labyrinth of political intrigue, and acquired an habit of
subterfuge and duplicity unworthy a nobleman, a gentleman, or a man.

Emmeline cared nothing about Sir Richard Crofts, and could not enter
into the bitterness of his resentment towards him. Nothing he had yet
been able to urge had shaken her resolution not to become his wife, even
tho' he should oblige her to go with him into Scotland.

The ruder passions of anger and resentment had no influence over her
mind. While he argued with warmth, or ran into reproaches, Emmeline
found she had nothing to fear. But tho' he could not rouse her pride, or
awaken her dislike against his family, but rather found them recoil on
himself; he hoped in that sensibility of temper and that softness of
heart to which he owed all the attention she had ever shewn him, he
should find a
