that it would have made any effectual
impression upon him, as he was always accustomed to consider women as made for
the recreation of the men, and to exclaim against the weakness of people who
taught them to imagine they were to judge for themselves.
    As the suit proceeded and miss Melvile saw more of her new admirer, her
antipathy increased. But, though her character was unspoiled by those false
wants which frequently make people of family miserable while they have every
thing that nature requires within their reach, yet she had been little used to
opposition, and was terrified by the growing sternness of her kinsman. Sometimes
she thought of flying from a house which was now become her dungeon; but the
habits of her youth and her ignorance of the world made her shrink from this
project when she contemplated it more nearly. Mrs. Jakeman indeed could not
think with patience of young Grimes as a husband for her darling Emily, but her
prudence determined her to resist with all her might the idea on the part of the
young lady of proceeding to extremities. She could not believe that Mr. Tyrrel
would persist in such an unaccountable persecution, and she exhorted miss
Melvile to forget for a moment the unaffected independence of her character, and
pathetically to deprecate her cousin's obstinacy. She had great confidence in
the ingenuous eloquence of her ward. Mrs. Jakeman did not know what was passing
in the breast of the tyrant.
    Miss Melvile complied with the suggestion of her mamma. One morning
immediately after breakfast she went to her harpsichord, and played one after
another several of those airs that were most the favourites of Mr. Tyrrel. Mrs.
Jakeman had retired; the servants were gone to their respective employments. Mr.
Tyrrel would have gone also; his mind was untuned, and he did not take the
pleasure he had been accustomed to take in the musical performances of Emily.
But her finger was now more tasteful than common. Her mind was probably wrought
up to a firmer and bolder tone by the recollection of the cause she was going to
plead, at the same time that it was exempt from those incapacitating tremors
which would have been felt by one that dared not look poverty in the face. Mr.
Tyrrel was unable to leave the apartment. Sometimes he traversed it with
impatient steps; then he hung over the poor innocent whose powers were exerted
to please him; at length he threw himself in a chair opposite, with his eyes
turned towards Emily. It was easy to trace the progress of his emotions. The
furrows into which his countenance was contracted were gradually relaxed; his
features were brightened into