Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction
Delia set out without any other inclination, than to escape from
intreaties that were become in the highest degree disagreeable to her. She
was addressed no longer upon a topic, of which she wished never to hear.
Her eye was no longer wounded with the sight of her insolent admirer. This
had an immediate and a favourable effect upon her. The conversation of
Miss Fletcher was lively and unflagging, and the simplicity of her remarks
proved an inexhaustible source of entertainment to our heroine.
They travelled leisurely and visited a variety of parks and seats of
noblemen which lay in their way. The taste of Delia was delicate and
refined. A continual succession of objects; gardens, architecture,
pictures and statues soothed her spirits, and gradually restored her to
that gaiety and easiness of temper, which had long rendered her the most
lovely and engaging of her sex.
At length they arrived at Windsor. The simple dignity of the castle, its
commanding situation, and the beautiful effects of the river from below,
rendered it infinitely the most charming spot our heroine had yet seen.
Her spirits were on the wing, she was all life and conversation, and the
most constant heart, that nature had ever produced, for a moment, forgot
her hopes, her fears, her inclinations, and her Damon.
She was now standing at a window that commanded the terrace. The evening
was beautiful, and the walk crouded. There were assembled persons of all
sexes and of different ranks. All appeared gaiety and splendour. The
supple courtier and the haughty country gentleman seemed equally at their
ease. There was thoughtless youth and narrative old age. The company
passed along, and object succeeded object without intermission.
One of the last that caught the eye of Delia, was that of two gentlemen
walking arm in arm, and seeming more grave than the rest of the company.
They were both tall and well shaped; but one of them had somewhat more
graceful and unembarrassed in his manner than the other. The latter was
dressed in black, the former in colours, with much propriety and elegance.
As they turned at the end of the walk the eye of Delia caught in the
latter the figure of Damon. She was inexpressibly astonished, she trembled
in every limb, and could scarcely support herself to a seat. Miss Fletcher
had caught the same object at the same moment, and, though she probably
might not otherwise have been clear in her recollection, the disorder of
Delia put her conjecture out of doubt. She therefore, before our heroine
had time to recollect herself, dispatched her brother, who had attended
them in their journey, to inform Damon that a lady in the castle was
desirous to speak with him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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