Miss Monmouth was the idol of her family. She was pure herself, and therefore unsuspicious. Talents and judgment had been given her with no sparing hand; but to these, she added the warmest, the most generous heart, the strongest feelings, and a high and noble character. To save, to reclaim one, whose genius she admired, whose beauty attracted, was a task too delightful to be rejected. Thousands daily sacrifice their hearts to mercenary and ambitious views; thousands coldly, without one feeling of enthusiasm or love, sell themselves for a splendid name; and can there be a mind so cold, so corrupted, as to censure the girl, who, having rejected a Buchanan, gave her hand and heart, and all that she possessed, to save, to bless, and to reclaim a Glenarvon. CHAPTER LXXXIII. Happily for Miss Monmouth, at the very moment her consent was given, Lady Margaret placed a letter in Glenarvon’s hands, which threw him into the deepest agitation, and obliged him instantly, and for a short time, to hasten to England. He went there in company with Lady Margaret; and strange as it may appear, the love, the idolatry, he had professed for so many, seemed now with greater vehemence than for others transferred to herself. Whether from artifice or caprice, it is unnecessary to say, but Lady Margaret at least made shew of a return. She never lost sight of him for one moment. She read with him; she talked with him; she chided him with all the wit and grace of which she was mistress; and he, as if maddening in her presence, gazed on her with wild delight; and seemed inclined to abandon every thing for her sake. Lady Margaret applied to her numerous friends for the ship which had long been promised to Lord Glenarvon, as a reward for his former services. She wrote to Sir George Buchanan for his appointment; she spoke with eloquence of his misfortunes; and whether from her representations, or some other cause, his titles and estates were at length restored to him. Thanking her for the zeal she had shewn, he proposed to return with her immediately to Italy. She now hesitated. Her brother had written to her: these were the words of his letter: “Buchanan is desirous that his marriage should be celebrated in this place. Miss Monmouth, I fear, has been compelled to accept his hand; and I should pity her, if such force did not save her from a far worse fate. I mean a marriage with Glenarvon.” Glenarvon was by Lady Margaret’s side when this letter was received. He held one of Lady Margaret’s white hands in his: he was looking upon the rings she wore, and laughingly asking her if they were the gifts of Dartford. “Look at me, my beautiful mistress,” he said, with the triumph of one secure. She carelessly placed the letter before his eyes. “Correct your vanity,” she said, whilst he was perusing it, alluding to the words he had written to Calantha; “exert your caprices upon others more willing to bear them; and leave me in peace.”