The manner in which all this was said convinced Buckhurst
that she spoke the plain and exact truth. From
the ease and frankness with which she had hitherto
conversed with him, he had flattered himself that it
would not be difficult to prepossess her heart in
his favour; but now, when he saw the same ease and
simplicity unchanged in her manner, he was convinced
that he had been mistaken. He had still hopes
that in time he might make an impression upon her,
and he urged that she was not yet sufficiently acquainted
with his character to be able to judge whether or not
it would suit hers. She frankly told him all
she thought of him, and in doing so impressed him
with the conviction that she had both discerned the
merits and discovered the defects of his character:
she gave him back a representation of himself, which
he felt to be exactly just, and yet which struck him
with all the force of novelty.
“It is myself,” he exclaimed: “but
I never knew myself till now.”
He had such pleasure in hearing Caroline speak of
him, that he wished even to hear her speak of his
faults—of these he would, however, have
been better pleased, if she had spoken with less calmness
and indulgence.
“She is a great way from love as yet,”
thought Buckhurst. “It is astonishing,
that with powers and knowledge on all other subjects
so far above her age, she should know so little even
of the common language of sentiment; very extraordinary,
that with so much kindness, and such an amiable disposition,
she should have so little sensibility.”
The novelty of this insensibility, and of this perfect
simplicity, so unlike all he had observed in the manners
and minds of other young ladies to whom he had been
accustomed, had, however, a great effect upon her
lover. The openness and unaffected serenity of
Caroline’s countenance at this moment appeared
to him more charming than any other thing he had ever
beheld in the most finished coquette, or the most fashionable
beauty.
What a divine creature she will be a few years hence!
thought he. The time will come, when Love may
waken this Psyche!—And what glory it would
be to me to produce to the world such perfection!
With these mixed ideas of love and glory, Buckhurst
took leave of Caroline; still he retained hope in
spite of her calm and decided refusal. He knew
the power of constant attention, and the display of
ardent passion, to win the female heart. He trusted
also in no slight degree to the reputation he had
already acquired of being a favourite with the fair
sex.
Buckhurst Falconer returned to Percy-hall.
He came provided with something like an excuse—he
had business—his father had desired him
to ask Mr. Percy to take charge of a box of family
papers for him, as he apprehended that, when he was
absent from the country, his steward had not been
as careful of them as he ought to have been.
