of Annette.


IT never, for a single moment, occurred to Charles that he had wrought an event most wonderfully in his own favour by thus punishing the painter; for Jude—so was the miller's daughter called—rang the changes in his praise so continually, that, as her voice was the voice of nature, and her sentiments strong genuine gratitude, his cause could not even in Emma have had half so powerful an advocate: nay with Emma herself:—for though she was well enough pleased that the youth had conceived favourable thoughts of her, though she admired the ready willingness with which he had corrected his error, yet there was, with her, a distinct difference in the two cases. As to herself, she was a host alone; she defied temptation; and, to such a youth as Charles, she was rather pleased than concerned that she had had an opportunity of shewing upon what erroneous ground he began his career, and what certain misery would be the consequence of his persuting in

indiscriminate pursuits, in which he might be assured, though he would often dupe others, he would oftener be duped himself.
Emma represented to him that the sensations of a tender and susceptible heart, which had given a single pang to suffering virtue, must be intolerable; and therefore conjured him to cease from a conduct which was foolish as well as wicked, impolitic as well as unworthy; for it was a barter of virtue for infamy, transient pleasure for lasting pain: and however consonant to the boisterous and turbulent passions of youth, would, throughout his life, be overshadowed by a cloud of wretchedness, which the splendour of rank and distinction would vainly struggle to dissipate.
To say the truth, this incident had touched Emma in the right key; for if she gave Charles credit for his delicate and honourable treatment of Jude, how much then was due to her admonitions which produced it?
If Emma had a weak side, certainly this was it. She was perfectly a schemer on the side of virtue, and thought the passions might be bottled up, like the winds of Aeolus; forgetting that there never wants curious and turbulent spirits to let them out,

not only to excite fresh dangers, but make the case worse, by leaving no remedy.
Nevertheless, nothing could be purer than poor Emma's intentions, which, though they were not always infallible, hit nine times out of ten as she wished they should. Here it was impossible they should miss. Standfast indeed, had he so far condescended, would have at pleasure changed the form of every one of them; and, spight