CHAP. XIV. W HEN Miss Stanley came in to make breakfast, she beautifully exemplified the worthy housekeeper's description. I have sometimes seen young women, whose simplicity was destitute of elegance, and others in whom a too elaborate polish had nearly effaced their native graces: Lucilla appeared to unite the simplicity of nature to the refinement of good breeding. It was thus she struck me at first sight. I forbore to form a decided opinion, till I had leisure to observe whether her mind fulfilled all that her looks promised. Lucilla Stanley is rather perfectly elegant than perfectly beautiful. I have seen women as striking, but I never saw one so interesting. Her beauty is countenance: it is the stamp of mind intelligibly printed on the face. It is not so much the symmetry of features, as the joint triumph of intellect and sweet temper. A fine old poet has well described her : Her pure and eloquent blood Her conversation, like her countenance, is compounded of liveliness, sensibility, and delicacy. She does not say things to be quoted, but the effect of her conversation is, that it leaves an impression of pleasure on the mind, and a love of goodness on the heart. She enlivens without dazzling, and entertains without overpowering. Contented to please, she has no ambition to shine There is nothing like effort is her expression, or vanity in her manner. She has rather a playful Taste gaiety than a pointed wit. Of repartee she has little, and dislikes it in others: yet I have seldom met with a truer taste for inoffensive wit. is indeed the predominating quality of her mind; and she may rather be said to be a nice judge of the genius of others, than to be a genius herself. She has a quick perception of whatever is beautiful or defective in composition or in character. The same true taste pervades her writing, her conversation, her dress, her domestic arrangements, and her gardening, for which last she has both a passion and a talent. Though she has a correct ear, she neither sings nor plays; and her taste is so exact in drawing, that she really seems to have le compass dans l'œuil; yet I never saw a pencil in her fingers, except to sketch a seat or a bower for the pleasure ground. Her notions are too just to allow her to be satisfied with mediocrity in many things, and for perfection in any thing, she thinks that life is too short, and its duties too various and important. Having five younger sisters to assist, has induced her to neglect some acquisitions which she would have liked. Had she been an only daughter, she owns that she would have indulged a little more in the garnish and decoration of life. At her early age, the soundness of her judgment on persons and things cannot be derived from experience; she owes it to a tact so fine as enables her to seize on the strong feature, the prominent circumstance,the leading point, instead of confusing her mind and dissipating her attention, on the inferior parts of a character, a book, or a business. This justness of thinking teaches her to rate things according to their worth, and to arrange them according to their place. Her man ner of speaking adds to the effect of her words, and the tone of her voice expresses with singular felicity, gaiety or kindness as her feelings direct, and the occasion demands. This manner is so natural, and her sentiments spring so spontanėously from the occasion, that it is obvious that display is never in her head, nor an eagerness for praise in her heart. I never heard her utter a word which I could have wished unsaid; or a sentiment I would have wished unthought. As to her dress it reminds me of what Dr. Johnson once said to an acquaintance of mine, of a lady who was celebrated for dressing well. The best evidence that I can give you of her perfection in this respect is, that one can never remember what she had on.' The dress of Lucilla is not neglected, and it is not studied. She is as neat as the strictest delicacy demands, and as fashionable as the strictest delicacy permits; and her nymph-like form does not appear to less advantage for being veiled with scrupulous modesty. Oh! if women in general knew what was their real interest! if they could guess with what a charm even the appearance of modesty invests i possessor, they would dress decorously from m self-love, if not from principle. The designing would assume modesty as an artifice, the coquet adopt it as an allurement, the pure as her appropriate attraction, and the voluptuous as the most infallible art of seduction. What I admire in Miss Stanley, and what I' have sometimes regretted the want of in some other women is, that I am told she is so lively, so playful, so desirous of amusing her father and mother when alone, that they are seldom so gay as in their family party. It is then that her tal ents are all unfolded, and that her liveliness is without restraint. She was rather silent the two three first days after my arrival, yet it was evently not the silence of reserve or inattention, at of delicate propriety. Her gentle frankness and undesigning temper gradually got the better of this little shyness, and she soon began to treat me as the son of her father's friend. I very early found that though a stranger might behold her without admiration, it was impossible to converse with her with indifference. Before I had been a week at the Grove, my precautions vanished, my panoply was gone, and yet I had not consulted Mr. Stanley. In contemplating the captivating figure,and the delicate mind of this charming girl, I felt that imagination which misleads so many youthful hearts had preserved mine. The image my fancy had framed, and which had been suggested by Milton's heroine, had been refined indeed, but it had not been romantic. I had early formed an ideal standard in my mind; too high, perhaps ; but its very elevation had rescued me from the common dangers attending the society of the sex. I was continually comparing the women with whom I conversed with the fair conception which filled my mind. The comparison might be unfair to them: I am sure it was not unfavourable to myself, for it preserved me from the fascination of mere personal beauty, the allurements of factitious character, and the attractions of ordinary merit. I am aware that love it apt to throw a radiance around the being it prefers till it becomes dazzled, less, perhaps, with the brightness of the object itself, than with the beams with which imagination has invested it. But religion, though it had not subdued my imagination, had chastised it. It had sobered the splendours of fancy, without obscuring them. It had not extinguished the passions, but it had taught me to regulate them. I now seemed to have found the being of whom I had been in search. My mind felt her excellencies, my heart acknowledged its conqueror. struggled, however, not to abandon myself to its impulses. I endeavoured to keep my own feelings in order, till I had time to appreciate a character, which appeared as artless as it was correct. And I did not allow myself to make this slight sketch of Lucilla, and of the effect she produced on my heart, till more intimate acquaintance had justified my prepossession. But let me not forget that Mr. Stanley had another daughter. If Lucilla's character is more elevated, Phoebe's is not less amiable. Her face is equally handsome, but her figure is somewhat less delicate. She has a fine temper, and strong virtues. The little faults she has seem to flow from the excess of her good qualities. Her susceptibility is extreme, and to guide and guard it finds employment for her mother's fondness, and her father's prudence. Her heart overflows with gratitude for the smallest service. This warmth of her tenderness keeps her affections in more lively exercise than her judgment; it leads her to over-rate the merit of those she loves, and to estimate their excellencies, less by their own worth than by their kindness to her. She soon behaved to me with the most engaging frankness, and her innocent vivacity encouraged, in return, that affectionate freedom with which one treats a beloved sister. The other children are gay, lovely, interesting, |