The penetrating eyes of Mr. More were fixed upon her during this conversation. He seemed wholly insensible to every other object. He was apprehensive that her heart was insensible to the strong affection that pervaded his own,--and he thought should she prove incapable of loving like himself, and should become devoted to another, thoughts he could scarcely endure,--though they sometimes impressed the idea that she might never be interested in his favour. Hope would again flatter him with the pleasing thought, that her bosom may have been fraught with congenial feelings, and her heart beat with sensations even more fervent than his own. Her image filled his waking thoughts, and disturbed with visionary happiness his sleeping hours,--yet it seemed to his devoted mind the love of merit alone; and he imagined that while she was happy, he could never be altogether otherwise. After Mr. More and Bonville had taken leave, and her parents had retired to rest, Alida remained by the fire-side till a late hour. She was meditating on recent circumstances, on the many late trying events which had crowded so rapidly that they could scarcely be said to succeed each other, and which had given so great variety to her life, that for years had rolled on in the same peaceful, unvaried course. She felt displeased at Bonville for his insinuations concerning Theodore, which were ungenerous and ill-natured,--while he seemed to flatter himself with the idea that she would become forgetful of him. He had hitherto yielded to every selfish propensity, without once seriously reflecting on its consequences to himself or others. His understanding, warped by prejudice, and without control, often misled him, and the superiority an elevated station gave him caused him to neglect to practice those better principles of which his nature might have been capable. His pride would suffer to see Alida united to another, therefore he was determined not to relinquish her. He concluded that finally she would look upon Theodore with indifference, and become favourably disposed towards himself; while his regard for her should prove unchangeable. That, unacquainted as she was with the world, she would at length be brought to accede to his wishes. That his rhetoric operating on her inexperience would ultimately influence her in his favour. CHAPTER XVI. "Dejection pales thy rosy cheek, And steals the lustre from thine eye; The minutes of each tedious hour, Are mark'd by sad anxiety: "And all thy soft, endearing smiles, That spoke with such expressive grace, Alas! are fled, and only care Is seen upon that pensive face." [_NY Weekly_: On the recovery of an Only Child from the Small-pox, lines 1-8: