Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction
The cup of misfortune, by which it was decreed that the virtue and the
constancy of our heroine should be tried, was not yet ended. The
disposition of a melancholy lover is in the utmost degree variable. Now
the fair Delia studiously sought to plunge herself in impervious solitude;
and now, worn with a train of gloomy reflections, she with equal eagerness
solicited the society of her favourite companion.
By this time sir William Twyford and Miss Fletcher were become in a manner
inseparable. Of consequence the company of the one necessarily involved
that of the other. And the gaiety and good humour of sir William, tempered
as they were by an excellent understanding, and an unaffected vein of
sportive wit, were the sweetest medicine to the wounded heart of Delia.
When she had first chosen Miss Fletcher for her intimate friend, her own
faculties had not yet reached their maturity; and habit frequently renders
the most insipid amusements pleasurable and interesting. Southampton
itself did not afford the largest scope for selection. And however our
readers may decide respecting the merit of the easy, the voluble and the
good humoured Miss Fletcher, they will scarcely be disposed to deny that
of all the female characters we have hitherto exhibited, she was the most
amiable.
One evening, as these three friends were sitting together, sir William
took occasion to lament the necessity that was laid upon him to quit
Southampton for a few days, though he hoped very speedily to be able to
return. His inamorata, as usual, was very inquisitive to learn the
business that was to deprive her for a time of the presence of a lover, of
whom she was not a little ostentatious. Sir William answered that he was
under an engagement to be present at the marriage of one of his college
friends, and that he should set out in company with Mr. Moreland.
At that name our tender and apprehensive fair one involuntarily started.
"Mr. Moreland!" said she to herself, "Ah, it was at his house that my
unknown resided. It is very seldom that Mr. Moreland undertakes a journey.
Surely there must be something particularly interesting to him in the
affair. The strange combination of circumstances terrifies and perplexes
me. Would I were delivered from this state of uncertainty! Would to God I
were dead!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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