First Love: A Novel. Vol. 2 of 3Loudon, Mrs. (Margracia)
General
First Love: A Novel. Vol. 2 of 3
Loudon, Mrs. (Margracia)
Fiction
It seemed to be now understood on both sides that they were to be quite
brother and sister; and, accordingly, under the pleasing illusion,
Edmund henceforward paid and Julia received every devotion that a
growing and blinding passion could suggest, except open declaration:
yet did confessions pass from heart to heart every time their eyes met,
while their understandings pretended to know nothing about the matter;
for each of them took care not to ask themselves any questions on the
subject as long as they felt so perfectly happy as they now did in each
other’s society. Even the attentions of Lord Borrowdale soon almost
ceased to pain Edmund: he could distinctly see that they were, at least,
indifferent, if not annoying to Julia; and, though he did not dare to ask
himself why, the conviction was a source of infinite joy to him!
The gay mornings of the regatta, dinner company every day, and dancing
every evening continued for some time, while the very public attentions
of his said lordship towards our heroine; and the jest, or, as it is
technically phrased, the quiz about our hero and Lady Susan, tended to
blind every one to the growth of the deep rooted attachment which was
thus hourly possessing itself of every feeling and faculty of heart and
of soul in Julia and in Edmund. Yet still were they brother and sister;
and, in their own opinion, behaving with the greatest prudence; for
love was not once mentioned by Edmund, and, as to Julia, she never even
thought of it, she only felt it!
“How good, how amiable it is of Julia,” thought Edmund, “to be so kind to
a friendless stranger!”
“Who could be unkind to Edmund!” thought Julia. “The gentleness of
his manners win upon one so; the expression of his countenance is so
interesting; his very smile is so nearly allied to melancholy that
any one, with the least feeling, must dread the idea of causing him a
moment’s pain.”
He, for his part, could not long deceive himself as to the nature of his
own sentiments; but he thought there was no harm in cherishing them,
while he could flatter himself that because he was not declaring he
was concealing them. Or, had he thought otherwise, the temptation was,
perhaps, too strong to be resisted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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