You must not quite believe him, said our hero: At least it is not for her beauty I should be inclined to speak in raptures of Amelia. Her form and face are pleasing I presume; to me at least they are: but there is something spiritual about her; something I can’t define; an emanation from the mind within, that takes and keeps possession of my heart. I seriously declare I never yet was in her company, when I had leisure to bestow my attention upon her beauty, simply so considered. She was but as a child when I first saw her; Nature had not supplied her with attractions, that could induce me to mistake the impression, I then received, for any other than a love as pure as her own thoughts, a zeal to serve her, a wish that I might live to make her happy, and shield her, like a blossom, from the blast. I found her in the humblest situation, that dependance on my friends for education and support could place her. She was an orphan without means to furnish food for another day. There was a soft petition in her eyes for pity and protection, which if I had not felt in every vein that visited my heart, I had been a monster. Her father, a brave soldier, like my friend here in my eye, whose honour and whose sword were all his portion, married the generous girl, who risked her life to nurse and save him in a dreadful fever, when all his fellow soldiers round were dying, and every breath of air, that she respired, was charged and saturated with infection. Oh what a godlike act, Maria cried! she merited his love. Could he do less? He could not, and he did not, John replied. She was the daughter of a brother officer, the major of his regiment, then serving in the West Indies. She lived to be the mother of Amelia; she was too good for this bad world we live in, and Heaven recalled her; after she was lost, death had but little trouble to destroy a wretched man, whom sorrow had struck down, and both Amelia’s parents now repose in the same grave: by happy chance she found her way to England: there, by the bounty of my grandfather Morgan and my deceased mother she was placed under the care of an excellent lady, who educated and brought her up. When my poor mother died, she left her what she had in her disposal, a slender portion, but enjoined me on her death bed to consider it as my especial duty to protect her, and make her happiness, her honour and her interests in all respects my own: from that moment such they have been, and ever will be--This is the history of my Amelia. It is my happy fortune to have gained an interest in her pure and virtuous heart, and, if we live to meet, let a few months pass by without fresh cause of sorrow, she will be my wife. Happy, happy man! exclaimed Maria, the envied privilege of whose sex it is to put aside the mean concern of money, and say to the dear object of your heart--I love you; share my fortune: I am your’s!