Bungay Castle: A Novel. v. 1/2Bonhote, Mrs. (Elizabeth)
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Bungay Castle: A Novel. v. 1/2
Bonhote, Mrs. (Elizabeth)
English fiction -- 18th century
His eldest sister, Roseline, was only one year younger than himself;
her form was small, but symmetry itself, every limb so nicely turned,
it would have been chosen by a statuary for the model of a Venus:
her face was beautiful in the extreme; her eyes expressive and
sparkling, and the smile which shewed itself was of that irresistible
kind as caught the attention and won the heart; and it would have
been difficult for a connoisseur in beauty to point out which feature
it was that had the greatest claim to admiration, while the unfading
and fascinating beauties of her polished mind, which was stored
with all the graces the best education could bestow, or the most
lively genius acquire, rendered her conversation as delightful as
her manners were captivating. She played on the lute, and warbled
her artless song in strains so sweet, as would have rivalled the
daughters of Italy. Her heart, unwounded by the barbed thorn of
affliction, and free from the entanglements of love, was like one
of the first days of infant-spring, which, enlivened by the bright
rays of an unclouded and all-cheering sun, serves not only to revive,
but to embellish the whole face of inanimate nature, just bursting
into life, and rendering all its sweetly modest beauties of redoubled
value to those who had lingered through a dreary winter, in eager
expectation of its approach. Lively as the birds which hovered round
the turrets of the castle, she entered gaily into all the youthful
sports of her brothers and sisters. To the little blooming Edeliza
she was particularly attached; and, though she saw her as beautiful
as herself, felt neither envy nor regret in the reflection. No modish
complaints filled her with imaginary terrors, and, as she had known
no sorrows, she thought it not only incumbent on her to shew her
gratitude to heaven and her parents, but to soften, by every
benevolent attention in her power, the miseries and misfortunes
of others.
In those days, the education of young women was completed at a more
early period than in the present; and, if the manners were not
altogether so highly finished, or the mind so profusely decorated,
or rather fettered, with innumerable, and, to too many, useless
accomplishments, the time was undoubtedly more rationally employed,
and the fair sex less exposed to the allurements of flattery and the
dangers of temptation: though more retired in their habits, and
reserved in their manners, they were neither less susceptible of the
tender passions, nor less fervent or sincere in their attachments.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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