le, with the
object of his affections, it is doubtful if he ever ascertained, by the
passing indications she exhibited, that her thoughts and feelings were
pitched much beyond the grade of those which nature had awarded to
himself. She saw and felt beauties in the scenery of Kirconnel, which to
her lover were but as the "sear leaf." Every object in nature--from the
planet to the plant, from the shining levin of heaven to the phosphoric
beam on the margin of the Kirtle--had some intelligence for her
inquiring eye. Every power in operation around her--from the general
sympathy of nature's highest elements, to the loves of the little forest
birds that sung their love-song in her bower--had some charm to elevate
her thoughts and sublime her sentiments. She, therefore, who could
search for intelligence where others saw nothing but inert matter, or,
at least, the uninteresting indications of everyday nature, might
probably have been an unfortunate object on whom our said romantic
knight might try the effect of his extraneous charms of wood and water.
Nor was she at all fitted for being acted upon by the love intrigues of
her cousin of Blacket House, who, coming far short of a knowledge of the
elevated sentiments by which she was inspired, could neither yield her
that sympathy which she required as a _sine qua non_ of affection, nor
stand the investigation of the shrewd wisdom or the high philosophy of
the heart of an elevated woman. While he simply sued and used the
ordinary words of love, she analysed, and found that, where she never
could be understood, she never could dispose of her affections.

The mind of Helen had long been made up on the question of her cousin's
suit. It had begun early; and the innumerable walks he had enjoyed with
her along the banks of the Kirtle had afforded him a thousand
opportunities of declaring his feelings. By the natural tact of women,
she had always contrived to evade the question, and contented herself,
even in the midst of extravagant declarations, with negative indications
of her inability to return his passion. These he understood not; and,
unfortunately, he acted upon the principle that has driven many a fond
lover to despair--that the mistress who appears to listen without
displeasure is presumed to give a tacit consent. They know little of the
heart of woman who trust their happiness or their lives to the frail
bark of such a fond and dangerous delusion. A woman will seldom put an
en