VOLUME II
CHAPTER I (24)

Mr. Riley Rosenburg's letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in Los Angeles for the winter, and concluded with his sister's regret at not having had time to pay her respects to her friends in Southern California before she left the country.

Hope was over, entirely over; and when Oz could attend to the rest of the letter, he found little, except the professed affection of the writer, that could give him any comfort. Mr. Summers' praise occupied the chief of it. His many attractions were again dwelt on, and Riley boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in his former letter. He wrote also with great pleasure of his sister's being an inmate of Miss Buffy Summers' house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of the latter with regard to long range weaponry, crossbows, missiles. Spike, to whom Oz very soon communicated the chief of all this, heard it in silent indignation. His heart was divided between concern for his brother, and resentment against all the others. To Riley's assertion of his sister's being partial to Mr. Summers he paid no credit. That she was really fond of Oz, he doubted no more than he had ever done; and much as he had always been disposed to like her, he could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution which now made her the slave of her designing friends, and led her to sacrifice her own happiness to the caprice of their inclinations. Had her own happiness, however, been the only sacrifice, she might have been allowed to sport with it in what ever manner she thought best; but his brother's was involved in it, as, he thought, she must be sensible herself. It was a subject, in short, on which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. He could think of nothing else, and yet whether Rosenburg's regard had really died away, or were suppressed by her friends' interference; whether she had been aware of Oz's attachment, or whether it had escaped her observation; whichever were the case, though his opinion of her must be materially affected by the difference, his brother's situation remained the same, his peace equally wounded.

A day or two passed before Oz had courage to speak of his feelings to Spike; but at last on Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy's leaving them together, after a longer irritation than usual about the burnt husk of Sunnydale High and its mistress, he could not help saying,

"Oh! that my dear father had more command over himself; he can have no idea of the pain he gives me by his continual reflections on her. But I will not repine. It cannot last long. She will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before.''

Spike looked at his brother with incredulous solicitude, but said nothing.

"You doubt me,'' cried Oz, slightly colouring; "indeed you have no reason. She may live in my memory as the most amiable woman of my acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, and nothing to reproach her with. Thank God! I have not that pain. A little time therefore. -- I shall certainly try to get the better.''

With a stronger voice he soon added, "I have the comfort immediately, that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it has done no harm to any one but myself.''

"My dear Oz!'' exclaimed Spike, "you are too good. Your sweetness and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you deserve.''

Miss le Bloddy eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back the praise on his brother's warm affection.

"Nay,'' said Spike, "that is not fair.  You wish to think all the world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of any body.  I only want to think you perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege of universal good will. You need not. There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense. I have met with two instances lately; one I will not mention; the other is Adam's marriage. Bloody hell! It is unaccountable! in every view it is unaccountable!''

"My dear Spikey, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of situation and temper. Consider Ms. Anya Nka's respectability, and Adam's prudent, steady character. Remember that he is one of a large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be ready to believe, for every body's sake, that he may feel something like regard and esteem for our cousin.''

"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost any thing, but no one else could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that Adam had any regard for her, I should only think worse of his understanding, than I now do of his heart. My dear Oz, Ms. Anya Nka is a strange and silly woman; you know she is, as well as I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the man who marries her, cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend him, though it is Adam Walsh. You shall not, for the sake of one individual, change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade yourself or me that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of danger, security for happiness.''

"I must think your language too strong in speaking of both,'' replied Oz, "and I hope you will be convinced of it, by seeing them happy together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You mentioned two instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I intreat you, dear Spikey, not to pain me by thinking that person to blame, and saying your opinion of her is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young woman to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Men fancy admiration means more than it does.''

"And women take care that they should.''

"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.''

"I am far from attributing any part of Willow's conduct to design,'' said Spike; "but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business.''

"And do you impute it to either of those?''

"Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can.''

"You persist, then, in supposing her brothers influence her.''

"Yes, in conjunction with her friend.''

"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can only wish her happiness, and if she is attached to me, no other man can secure it.''

"Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides her happiness; they may wish her increase of wealth and consequence; they may wish her to marry a boy who has all the importance of money, great connections, and pride.''

"They do wish her to chuse Mr. Summers,'' replied Oz; "but they have known him longer. If they believed Willow attached to me, they would not try to part us; if she were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an affection, you make every body acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. Let me take it in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood.''

Spike could not oppose such a wish; and from the time Willow's name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.

Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy still continued to wonder and repine at her returning no more, and though a day seldom passed in which Spike did not account for it clearly, there seemed little chance of his ever considering it with less perplexity. His son endeavoured to convince him of what he did not believe himself, that her attentions to Oz had been merely the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when she saw him no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at the time, he had the same story to repeat every day. Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy's best comfort was that Willow must be down again in the summer.

Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy treated the matter differently. "So, Spikey,'' said she one day, "your brother is crossed in love I find. I congratulate him. Next to being married, a boy likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives him a sort of distinction among his companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long outdone by Oz. Now is your time. Here are officers enough at Sunnydale to disappoint all the young gentlemen in the country. Let Faith be your woman. She is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably.''

"Thank you, Ma'am, but a less agreeable woman would satisfy me. We must not all expect Oz's good fortune.''

"True,'' said Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy, "but it is a comfort to think that, whatever of that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will always make the most of it.''

Ms. Faith's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom, which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's family. They saw her often, and to her other recommendations was now added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Spike had already heard, her claims on Miss Buffy Summers, and all that she had suffered from her, was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and every body was pleased to think how much they had always disliked Miss Buffy Summers before they had known any thing of the matter.

Miss le Bloddy was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society of Southern California; his mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes -- but by everybody else Miss Buffy Summers was condemned as the worst of women.

CHAPTER II (25)

AFTER a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, Ms. Anya Nka was called from her amiable Adam by the arrival of Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on her side, by preparations for the reception of her groom, as she had reason to hope that shortly after her next return into Southern California, the day would be fixed that was to make her the happiest of women. She took leave of her relations at the Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's with as much solemnity as before; wished her fair cousins health and happiness again, and promised their mother another letter of thanks.

On the following Monday, Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy had the pleasure of receiving his sister and her husband, who came as usual to spend Christmas at the Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's. Mrs. Jenny Giles was a sensible, lady like woman, greatly superior to her brother, as well by nature as education. The burnt husk of Sunnydale High gentlemen would have had difficulty in believing that a woman who lived by trade, and within view of her own warehouses, could have been so well bred and agreeable. Mr. Rupert Giles, who was several years younger than Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy and Mr. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant man, and a great favourite with all his nephews at the Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's. Between the two eldest and himself especially, there subsisted a very particular regard. They had frequently been staying with him in town.

The first part of Mr. Rupert Giles' business on his arrival, was to distribute his presents and describe the newest weaponry. When that was done, he had a less active part to play. It became his turn to listen. Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They had all been very ill-used since he last saw his brother. Two of his boys had been on the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing in it.

"I do not blame Oz,'' he continued, "for Oz would have got Willow, if he could. But, Spikey! It is very hard to think that he might have been Ms. Anya Nka's husband by this time, had not it been for his own perverseness. She made his an offer in this very room, and he refused her. The consequence of it is, that Dr. Angleman Walsh will have a son married before I have, and that the Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's estate is just as much entailed as ever. The Walshes are very artful people indeed. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own family, who have never supported any of my demonic ambitions, and to have neighbours who think of themselves before anybody else. However, your coming just at the time is the greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of long swords.''

Mr. Rupert Giles, to whom the chief of the news had been given before, in the course of Oz and Spike's correspondence with him, made his brother a slight answer, and, in compassion to his nephews, turned the conversation.

When alone with Spike afterwards, he spoke more on the subject. "It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Oz,'' said he. "I am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young woman, such as you describe Willow, so easily falls in love with a handsome boy for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets him, that these sort of inconstancies are very frequent.''

"An excellent consolation in its way,'' said Spike, "but it will not do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young woman of independent fortune to think no more of a boy, whom she was violently in love with only a few days before.''

"But that expression of "violently in love" is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from an half-hour's acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how violent  was Willow's love?''

"I never saw a more promising inclination. She was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by him. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At her own sparring match she offended two or three young gentlemen by not asking them to spar, and I spoke to her twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?''

"Oh, yes! -- of that kind of love which I suppose her to have felt. Poor Oz! I am sorry for him, because, with his disposition, he may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Spikey; you would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think he would be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service -- and perhaps a little relief from home, may be as useful as anything.''

Spike was exceedingly pleased with the proposal, and felt persuaded of his brother's ready acquiescence.

"I hope,'' added Mr. Rupert Giles, "that no consideration with regard to the young woman will influence him. We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go out so little, that it is very improbable they should meet at all, unless she really comes to see him.''

"And that is quite impossible; for she is now in the custody of her friend, and Miss Buffy Summers would no more suffer her to call on Oz in such a part of Los Angeles -- ! My dear uncle, how could you think of it? Miss Buffy Summers may perhaps have heard of such a place as Riverside Street, but she would hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse her from its impurities, were she once to enter it; and depend upon it, Willow never stirs without her.''

"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Oz correspond with the brother?  He will not be able to help calling.''

"He will drop the acquaintance entirely.''

But in spite of the certainty in which Spike affected to place the point, as well as the still more interesting one of Rosenburg's being withheld from seeing Oz, he felt a solicitude on the subject which convinced him, on examination, that he did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes he thought it probable, that her affection might be re-animated, and the influence of her friends successfully combated by the more natural influence of Oz's attractions.

Mr. le Bloddy accepted his uncle's invitation with pleasure; and the Rosenburgs were no otherwise in his thoughts at the time, than as he hoped that, by Riley's not living in the same house with his sister, he might occasionally spend a morning with him, without any danger of seeing her.

The Giles staid a week at the Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's; and what with the Philipses, the Walshes, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy had so carefully provided for the entertainment of his sister and brother, that they did not once sit down to a family dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always made part of it, of which officers Ms. Faith was sure to be one; and on these occasions, Mr. Rupert Giles, rendered suspicious by Spike's warm commendation of her, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them, from what he saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference of each other was plain enough to make him a little uneasy; and he resolved to speak to Spike on the subject before he left Southern California, and represent to him the imprudence of encouraging such an attachment.

To Mr. Rupert Giles, Faith had one means of affording pleasure, unconnected with her general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, before his marriage, he had spent a considerable time in that very part of the San Francisco Bay Area to which she belonged. They had, therefore, many acquaintance in common; and, though Faith had been little there since the death of Summers' mother, five years before, it was yet in her power to give him fresher intelligence of his former friends, than he had been in the way of procuring.

Mr. Rupert Giles had seen the Bronze, and known the late Summers by character perfectly well. Here, consequently, was an inexhaustible subject of discourse. In comparing his recollection of the Bronze with the minute description which Faith could give, and in bestowing his tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, he was delighting both her and himself. On being made acquainted with the present Miss Buffy Summers' treatment of her, he tried to remember something of that gentlewoman's reputed disposition, when quite a lad, which might agree with it, and was confident at last that he recollected having heard Miss. Summers formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured girl.

CHAPTER III (26)

MR. GILES' caution to Spike was punctually and kindly given on the first favourable opportunity of speaking to him alone; after honestly telling him what he thought, he thus went on:

"You are too sensible a boy, Spikey, to fall in love merely because you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself, or endeavour to involve her in an affection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against her; she is a most interesting young woman; and if she had the fortune she ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is -- you must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Do not be a fool for love. Your mother would depend on your resolution and good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your mother.''

"My dear uncle, this is being serious indeed.''

"Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise.''

"Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of myself, and of Ms. Faith too. She shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it.''

"Spike, you are not serious now.''

"I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present I am not in love with Ms. Faith; no, I certainly am not. But she is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable woman I ever saw -- and if she becomes really attached to me -- I believe it will be better that she should not. I see the imprudence of it. -- Oh! that abominable Miss Buffy Summers! -- My mother's opinion of me does me the greatest honor; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My mother, however, is partial to Ms. Faith. In short, my dear uncle, I should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but since we see every day that where there is affection, young people are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself her first object. When I am in company with her, I will not be wishing. In short, I will do my best.''

"Perhaps it will be as well, if you discourage her coming here so very often. At least, you should not remind your father of inviting her.''

"As I did the other day,'' said Spike, with a conscious smile; "very true, it will be wise in me to refrain from that. But do not imagine that she is always here so often. It is on your account that she has been so frequently invited the week. You know my father's ideas as to the necessity of constant company for his friends. But really, and upon my honour, I will try to do what I think to be wisest; and now, I hope you are satisfied.''

His uncle assured him that he was; and Spike having thanked him for the kindness of his hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice being given on such a point without being resented.

Ms. Anya Nka returned into Southern California soon after it had been quitted by the Giles and Oz; but as she took up her abode with the Walshes, her arrival was no great inconvenience to Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy. Her marriage was now fast approaching, and he was at length so far resigned as to think it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say in an ill-natured tone that he " wished they might be happy.'' Thursday was to be the wedding day, and on Wednesday Mr. Walsh paid his farewell visit; and when he rose to take leave, Spike, ashamed of his father's ungracious and reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected himself, accompanied him out of the room. As they went down stairs together, Adam said,

"I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Spike.''

" That you certainly shall.''

"And I have another favour to ask. Will you come and see me?''

"We shall often meet, I hope, in Southern California.''

"I am not likely to leave Sacramento for some time. Promise me, therefore, to come to Purgatory.''

Spike could not refuse, though he foresaw little pleasure in the visit.

"My mother and Forest are to come to me in March,'' added Adam, "and I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Spike, you will be as welcome to me as either of them.''

The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Sacramento from the church door, and every body had as much to say or to hear on the subject as usual. Spike soon heard from his friend; and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Spike could never address him without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the sake of what had been, rather than what was. Adam's first letters were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be curiosity to know how he would speak of his new home, how he would like Lord Snyder, and how happy he would dare pronounce himself to be; though, when the letters were read, Spike felt that Adam expressed himself on every point exactly as he might have foreseen. He wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which he could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and roads, were all to his taste, and Lord Snyder's behaviour was most friendly and obliging. It was Ms. Anya Nka's picture of Purgatory and Hellmouth rationally softened; and Spike perceived that he must wait for his own visit there, to know the rest.

Oz had already written a few lines to his brother to announce their safe arrival in Los Angeles; and when he wrote again, Spike hoped it would be in his power to say something of the Rosenburgs.

His impatience for the second letter was as well rewarded as impatience generally is. Oz had been a week in town, without either seeing or hearing from Riley. He accounted for it, however, by supposing that his last letter to his friend from the Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's had by some accident been lost.

"My uncle,'' he continued, "is going to-morrow into that part of the town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor-street.''

He wrote again when the visit was paid, and he had seen Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg. "I did not think Riley in spirits,'' were his words, "but he was very glad to see me, and reproached me for giving him no notice of my coming to Los Angeles. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached him. I enquired after their sister, of course. She was well, but so much engaged with Miss Buffy Summers, that they scarcely ever saw her. I found that Mr. Summers was expected to dinner. I wish I could see him. My visit was not long, as Riley and Mr. Wesley Lockley were going out. I dare say I shall soon see them here.''

Spike shook his head over the letter. It convinced him that accident only could discover to Willow his brother's being in town.

Four weeks passed away, and Oz saw nothing of her. He endeavoured to persuade himself that he did not regret it; but he could no longer be blind to Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg's inattention. After waiting at home every morning for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for him, the visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of his stay, and yet more, the alteration of his manner, would allow Oz to deceive himself no longer. The letter which he wrote on the occasion to his brother, will prove what he felt.

"My dearest Spikey will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in his better judgment, at my expence, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg's regard for me. But, my dear brother, though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I still assert that, considering what his behaviour was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend his reason for wishing to be intimate with me, but if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Riley did not return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the mean time. When he did come, it was very evident that he had no pleasure in it; he made a slight, formal, apology for not calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so altered a creature, that when he went away I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I cannot help blaming him. He was very wrong in singling me out as he did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on his side. But I pity him, because he must feel that he has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for his sister is the cause of it, I need not explain myself farther; and though we know the anxiety to be quite needless, yet if he feels it, it will easily account for his behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as she is to her brother, whatever anxiety he may feel on her behalf is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at his having any such fears now, because, if she had at all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. She knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something he said himself; and yet it should seem by his manner of talking, as if he wanted to persuade himself that she is really partial to Mr. Summers. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, and think only of what will make me happy: your affection, and the invariable kindness of my dear aunt and uncle. Let me hear from you very soon. Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg said something of her never returning to the burnt husk of Sunnydale High again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Purgatory. Pray go to see them, with Dame Walsh and Forest. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.

Your's, &c.''

This letter gave Spike some pain; but his spirits returned as he considered that Oz would no longer be duped, by the brother at least. All expectation from the sister was now absolutely over. He would not even wish for any renewal of her attentions. Her character sunk on every review of it; and as a punishment for her, as well as a possible advantage to Oz, he seriously hoped she might really soon marry Miss Buffy Summers' brother, as, by Faith's account, he would make her abundantly regret what she had thrown away.

Mr. Rupert Giles about the time reminded Spike of his promise concerning that gentlewoman, and required information; and Spike had such to send as might rather give contentment to his uncle than to himself. Her apparent partiality had subsided, her attentions were over, she was the admirer of some one else. Spike was watchful enough to see it all, but he could see it and write of it without material pain. His heart had been but slightly touched, and his vanity was satisfied with believing that he would have been her only choice, had fortune permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lord to whom she was now rendering herself agreeable; but Spike, less clear-sighted perhaps in her case than in Adam's, did not quarrel with her for her wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to suppose that it cost her a few struggles to relinquish him, he was ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very sincerely wish her happy.

All this was acknowledged to Mr. Rupert Giles; and after relating the circumstances, he thus went on: -- "I am now convinced, my dear uncle, that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest her very name, and wish her all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him ; they are even impartial towards Mr. Gunn. I cannot find out that I hate him at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think him a very good sort of boy. There can be no love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more interesting object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love with her, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Doyle and Angelus take her defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young women must have something to live on, as well as the plain.''
 


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