My dear friend Mrs. Fitzroy, whose enlivening society charmed the whole group, was the first to awaken my attention to the expressions, both by looks and manner, of feelings in Mr. Russell's mind, which her quick eye discovered that Charlotte had excited. I have such perfect confidence in the delicacy of my dear girls, that I was spared all solicitude on the score of _conduct_; but I watched with uneasiness the progress of a sentiment which, as it met no return, will I fear be the cause of pain to an amiable and an accomplished young man. I find that he is acquainted with you, and, as he talks of going into Derbyshire on his return from France, you will probably see him, and perchance hear his story from his own lips. The conversation, in which he made known his attachment to Charlotte, took place on the evening preceding his departure, and was so unlike the common place dialogues upon such occasions, that I could not, when it was repeated to me, repress a smile in the midst of more serious impressions. It was a lovely evening, and the young people had, as usual, strayed away from the elders, whose more sober views of happiness, and less active powers of locomotion, happily prepare us, as time advances, for the final rest. As lovers always contrive to find the opportunity which they are seeking, Russell soon detached Charlotte from the group, by some appeal to her taste in particular; and when removed from all ears, save her own, he exclaimed (and, poor fellow, I believe with genuine truth), "How wretched is the _ending_ of such happiness!" "It is indeed," replied my innocent Charlotte, who willingly perhaps gave her companion a share in the feeling which she echoed. Perhaps assured by this encouraging sympathy that all might be as he wished, Russell continued: "Even inanimate objects interest the heart when we are about to quit them." "Yes," said Charlotte, "and when one lives entirely in retreat, where the living objects are few, we do _really_ love trees, rocks, and streams, as if they were human beings. Is it not for this reason that mountaineers, like the Swiss, Scotch, and Irish, are fonder of their homes than any other nation?" This is not what Russell wanted to know, or cared to inquire respecting. "To waste love upon trees and rocks, when so many of our own species are dying for want of the food lavished upon _them_, is not right," said Russell; "and _you_ are more guilty than any one, inasmuch as your affection is more prized." Charlotte interrupted what she perceived to be a _compliment_, by answering: "You must not make _speeches_. The love that one feels for rural objects, long known, and seen with daily interest, can never interfere with better affections. It is a different thing, and _you_ must know how _very_ different, as you have a father, mother, and sisters." The honest air of directness, which I can imagine to have accompanied this _reasoning_ upon love, was not very favourable to farther dalliance.