Things went on in the same way for a week or two. Amy had closed with Mr. Sydenham's proposal, and changed her name to that of Mrs. Sydenham. She called on Fanny one morning, when her drawing-room was half full of beaux. "Beautiful Amy, how do you do?" said Nugent, with that eternal smile of his!--it is so vulgar to be always looking joyful, and full of glee, I cannot think what he can mean by it. "Oh," said Amy, withdrawing her hand, "I must never flirt, nor have any beaux again, I must now lead a pure, virtuous, chaste, and proper life." "Who has laid such an appalling embargo on you?" I asked. "Why, do you not know that Sydenham and I are become man and wife? and that I have changed my name and my home for his?" After wishing Mrs. Sydenham joy I took my leave. On reaching home I found young Freeling in my drawing-room, waiting to pay his respects to me. I began to think I had scarcely done this young man justice, he appeared so very humble, quiet and amiable. He blushed exceedingly when I addressed him, but--never mind the vanity--it proceeded more from a sort of respectful growing passion towards me, than, as I had at first imagined, from _mauvaise honte._ Freeling was not fashionable, as I have said before; but I must add that I believe even his enemy could say nothing worse of him. "I will not deceive you," said I to him one day, seeing he was inclined to follow the thing up steadily, under the impression perhaps that faint heart never won fair lady. "Some women would make use of your attentions, your money, and your private boxes, as long as possible; but I will say this of myself, I know there is not much to be said in my favour, I never do what I feel to be ungenerous or wrong. I shall receive you with pleasure as a friend at any time; but if you were to sit down and sigh for a twelvemonth, you would never get any further. No speeches, now! You are an interesting young man whom thousands of amiable women would like, and life is short. _L'amour ne se commande pas_, perhaps you are going to tell me; and my answer is, that I am sure it cannot long survive hope, and for you indeed there is none." Freeling blushed and looked melancholy and undecided. "Shake hands and forgive me," said I, "_Allons. Un peu de philosophie, mon ami. Que vaut la belle, qui détourne la bouche?_ How ridiculous a fine, tall, well-looking young man like you will appear, sitting under one of the willow-trees, in the Green Park!" Freeling smiled. "There now, I see it is over already," I continued, and changed the subject, which Freeling had the good sense and good taste never to renew; and what is more, the good heart to take an opportunity of doing me a very essential service, some months afterwards, when I believed he had forgotten me altogether. "And pray, madam," the reader may ask, "how came you to be such a monster, as to call this kind, generous-hearted man a bore, and a general postman, some time ago?"