“But,” said she, “do not you think that this prejudice, as I am willing to allow it to be, in favour of first loves, may _in our sex_ be advantageous? Even when a woman may be convinced--that she ought not to indulge a _first_ love, should she not be prevented by delicacy from thinking of a second?” “Delicacy, my dear Miss Portman, is a charming word, and a still more charming thing, and Mrs. Freke has probably increased our affection for it; but even delicacy, like all other virtues, must be judged of by the test of utility. We should run into romance, and error, and misery, if we did not constantly refer to this standard. Our reasonings as to the conduct of life, as far as moral prudence is concerned, must depend ultimately upon facts. Now, of the numbers of people in this world, how many do you think have married their _first loves?_ Probably not one out of ten. Then, would you have nine out of ten pine all their lives in celibacy, or fret in matrimony, because they cannot have the persons who first struck their _fancy?_” “I acknowledge this would not add to the happiness of society,” said Belinda. “Nor to its virtue,” said Mr. Percival. “I scarcely know an idea more dangerous to domestic happiness than this belief in the unextinguishable nature of a first flame. There are people who would persuade us that, though it may be smothered for years, it must break out at last, and blaze with destructive fury. Pernicious doctrine! false as it is pernicious!--The struggles between duty and passion may be the charm of romance, but must be the misery of real life. The woman who marries one man, and loves another, who, in spite of all that an amiable and estimable husband can do to win her confidence and affection, nourishes in secret a _fatal_ prepossession for her first love, may perhaps, by the eloquence of a fine writer, be made an interesting heroine;--but would any man of sense or feeling choose to be troubled with such a wife?--Would not even the idea that women admired such conduct necessarily tend to diminish our confidence, if not in their virtue, at least in their sincerity? And would not this suspicion destroy our happiness? Husbands may sometimes have delicate feelings as well as their wives, though they are seldom allowed to have any by these unjust novel writers. Now, could a husband who has any delicacy be content to possess the person without the mind?--the duty without the love?--Could he be perfectly happy, if, in the fondest moments, he might doubt whether he were an object of disgust or affection?--whether the smiles of apparent joy were only the efforts of a suffering martyr?--Thank Heaven! I am not married to one of these charming martyrs. Let those live with them who admire them. For my part, I admire and love the wife, who not only seems but is happy--as I,” added Mr. Percival smiling, “have the fond credulity to believe. If I have spoken too long or too warmly upon the chapter of _first loves_, I have at least been a