"What vain creatures you men are!" said she: "A girl can't spend a sleepless night, and be a little agitated by an unexpected change in her plans, but you must suppose her colour comes and goes in the intermittent fits of a love fever." "You may quiz, Charlotte, but I assure you, when Miss Wildenheim used to meet Augustus here, her eyes told more than her tongue." "Then believe me, they told intolerable stories! No young woman of good sense, or good conduct, will ever love a man, who does not show her the most unequivocal preference. After all, what is called love has its residence more in the brain than the heart. Believe me, Adelaide is no such fool; she has strength of mind to conquer even a reciprocal attachment, if necessary. She has a great deal of feeling, with an equal portion of reason and reflection; but I think her _imagination_ is rather in the minority, at least it takes its rise from her feelings, not her feelings from it." "Well, Charlotte, you may think an attachment a very silly thing now; but, you know, you were in love once yourself." "Never with you, I assure you: you know, my dear, that was impossible, for you were old enough to have passed for my father when we married. I had always too much respect for your reverence. Yet I don't think I have made the worse wife, because I never mistook you for a Strephon, but saw from the first you were a good, plain, steady country parson." "And but for this good, plain, steady country parson, Charlotte," said he, "you would never have been the estimable woman you now are. But to return to Miss Wildenheim: what is it that distresses her? You are clear there is nobody in England she is sorry to leave behind." "Pardon me; I think she is very sorry to leave us." "That I take for granted; but on the whole she seems pleased with her expedition. Perhaps she is unprepared to meet so unexpected a demand on her purse; and Mrs. Sullivan's elegant epistle does not say a word on the subject of money:--she should have had more consideration! I will make an estimate of what the journey to Shrewsbury will cost her--will you give it to her, and say I shall be happy to advance what money she may require." "That I will," replied Mrs. Temple; "Poor thing! I'm sure she would die before she would ask Mrs. Sullivan--at least _I_ should, without doubt." When Mr. Temple made out his memorandum, and his wife giving it to Adelaide repeated his offer, she was so touched by this new instance of her friend's kindness, that she could not for a short time reply to Mrs. Temple; but pressing her hand with the earnestness of gratitude, remained silent for an instant, and then, both by word and look, expressed her grateful sense of all the benefits they had bestowed on her. "In the present instance, however," said she, "I need not trespass on Mr. Temple's goodness; I assure you I am quite rich, sufficiently so to make this unexpected journey no inconvenience." "Nobody is rich now-a-days," said Mrs.