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Mr. Lee was a man of great courage and little
patience. He considered the heart of a woman like
one of his eggs, that could be boiled in a minute
and a half; and took it for granted, Lucia must be
deeply in love with Highfield since the adventure of
the fashionable bonnet. Accordingly he determined
to sound her forthwith, that no time might be lost.
He might as well have sounded the bottomless
abysses of lake Superior; for the heart of a city
belle in love is as unfathomable, if not as pure, as
they.

“Well, Lucia,” said he, as she entered his library,
“how do you feel after your fright?”

“Oh, quite well, sir.”

“Hem—I wish I could say as much for Highfield.
The doctor says he has some fever, and talks
of bleeding—the blockhead—why didn't he do it
before?”

“Bleeding!” cried Lucia, and her heart beat a
little, “I hope it will not be necessary.”

“Hem—yes. Ah! girl, you owe much to that
excellent young man—hey?”

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“I am sensible of it, sir, and feel it at the bottom
of my heart.”

“Do you?—do you? my dearest girl, at the
bottom of your heart?”

“Indeed I do, sir; I shall never cease to be
grateful, as long as I live.”

“Grateful!—pish—pooh—gratitude!”

“My father has often told me, gratitude was the
rarest of our feelings, and the most short-lived; but
I shall carry mine to my grave.”

“Ay—yes—yes; gratitude is a very good thing
in its way; but—but there are so many ways of
showing it. Now how will you show yours—hey?”

“Why, I haven't studied my part yet,” said she,
smiling; “I must trust to the honest dictates of my
heart, to time, and circumstance, to show me the
way.”

“Pshaw! time and circumstance! I believe the
d—l is in you this morning, Lucia.”

“I believe the deuce is in you this morning,
father,” said Lucia, smiling; “for I can't understand
you.”

“Very well, very well; but I want to know how
you will go about showing your gratitude—hey?”

“Why, father,” said Lucia, “if he is sad, I will
play him merry tunes; if he is cheerful, I will laugh
with him; if he is cross, I will bear with him. I
will sympathize in his misfortunes, rejoice in his
happiness, nurse him if he should be sick; if you
turn him out of doors, as you once threatened, I will

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certainly let him in again; and if he should ever
chance to want (what I trust in God he never will)
your favour and protection, I will try and be to him
your humble representative.” If Lucia meant to
say more, she was stopped by an unaccountable
huskiness in her throat, that took away her breath.

“Ah! that will do—that will do!” cried the old
gentleman, highly delighted, “and so you will love
him—hey, girl? none of your wishy-washy gratitude—
love him with all your heart—hey?”

“With all my heart, and as an only and beloved
brother.”

“Brother! did you say?—a fiddlestick; I—I
don't want you to love him as a brother, I tell you.”

“As a cousin then, sir.”

“No; nor as a cousin, nor a second cousin,
nor an uncle, nor grandfather, nor grandmother
either,” cried Mr. Lee, in wrath, and gradually
raising his voice till he came to the climax of a roar.

“Ah! is it so?” thought our heroine, as at length
she began to comprehend the drift of the impatient
old gentleman; and she drew the impenetrable
cloak of hypocrisy closely around her, at the same
time conjuring up to her aid the guardian pride of
female delicacy, which shrinks from the first avowal
of love, and more than shrinks from owning it without
the surety of answering love.

“May I go, sir?” said she, after a pause, “I
promised to walk out this morning, with my aunt
and Mr. Goshawk.”

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“Confound Mr. Goshawk! may ten thousand of
his bad verses fly away with him to chaos and old
night, where they came from!”

“Well, father, then I will make an apology and
stay at home.”

“No; go where you please, and do what you
please; I shall never be able to make any thing of
you.”

“Nothing, dear sir, but what I am—your dutiful
and affectionate daughter;” and she bowed, and left
Mr. Lee to congratulate himself on the progress he
had made.

The reader will doubtless have observed, that
during the whole of the foregoing dialogue, Lucia
spoke in simple, natural language, without a single
touch of azure. The reason is at hand. She felt
what she was saying; and true feeling never declaims.
What it has to say, it says with a simple,
brief directness; as a man who is earnest in the race
never stops to gather flowers by the way.

Our heroine retired to her chamber, to think. A
new futurity was opened before her; for until this
interview with her father, she never dreamed of his
wishes or intentions in favour of her cousin. The
truth is, her imagination was occupied with Goshawk.
But now it was necessary to determine on
some line of conduct, in her future intercourse with
Highfield. A very convenient, proper, family match!
thought she; I am rich, and he poor. I have no

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doubt he is very much in love with me; for I never
heard of a young gentleman that was deficient in
duty and affection on such occasions! And then
her heart smote her with a pang, for such a thought.
No, no; I will say that for my cousin, I do believe
he would not marry, if he did not love me, to gain
my fortune or please my father. But then every
body will say he only married me for my money;
and the mortification of such a suspicion would be
intolerable. I dare say this plan has been in agitation
ever since I was born; and what a business
kind of business! he is to open his mouth, and I
am to fall plump into it, like a great overripe apple,
without even being shaken a little. No, no, my
dainty cousin, that wont do. And besides, what
will Miss Appleby and all the rest say, if I throw
myself away on a man of no literary reputation;
who never figured in albums, or wrote verses on
Passaic falls; who does nothing common like an
uncommon man; and who, I confess, though he acts
sometimes like a hero, talks just like every body.
Ah! said she, sighing, I wish my money bags were
in the Red sea, and then I could tell whether I was
beloved for myself or them. This was a very foolish
wish of our heroine; for notwithstanding her beauty,
her charming temper, and her natural good sense,
if her money bags had been in the Red sea, ten to
one her admirers would have gone there to fish for
them, instead of adoring her beauty and good

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qualities. After a vast many pros and cons, Lucia
determined, in the true spirit of a woman with more
than one admirer, to play them off against each
other; to put to the test the ardour and stability of
their passion, by trying what the patience of mortal
man is capable of enduring. Mr. Goshawk was still
paramount in her imagination; though since the
adventure of the ride, her feelings were somewhat
enlisted on the side of Highfield. She was satisfied
in her own mind, that the former was deeply enamoured
of her, else, why should he be so eloquent
on all occasions, on the subject of hopeless affection?
With regard to the other, she was somewhat,
or rather indeed altogether, uncertain; for Highfield
had too much pride, as well as delicacy, to thrust his
feelings in the face of the world on all occasions.
I will try him, thought she. If he is only seeking
me for my fortune, there will be no harm in making
him a little miserable; and if he really loves me for
myself alone, I can always make him amends for his
sufferings. She had an appointment with Mr. Goshawk
for a walk, and was expecting him every
moment, when the servant came in with an apology,
that he was so indisposed as not to be able to wait
on her.

“Poor man,” thought Lucia, “his mind is preying
on his delicate frame! the light is too intense
for the lamp that contains it. What a misfortune it
is to be born with too much sensibility!