assages, rendered his assistance invaluable; and the wild romance of his
spirit delighted a character too young and inexperienced to observe its
deficiencies. Upon subjects which interested him, and when quite at ease,
he possessed that flow of natural, and somewhat florid eloquence, which
has been supposed as powerful even as figure, fashion, fame, or fortune,
in winning the female heart. There was, therefore, an increasing danger
in this constant intercourse to poor Rose's peace of mind, which was the
more imminent as her father was greatly too much abstracted in his
studies, and wrapped up in his own dignity, to dream of his daughter's
incurring it. The daughters of the house of Bradwardine were, in his
opinion, like those of the house of Bourbon or Austria, placed high above
the clouds of passion which might obfuscate the intellects of meaner
females; they moved in another sphere, were governed by other feelings,
and amenable to other rules than those of idle and fantastic affection.
In short, he shut his eyes so resolutely to the natural consequences of
Edward's intimacy with Miss Bradwardine, that the whole neighbourhood
concluded that he had opened them to the advantages of a match between
his daughter and the wealthy young Englishman, and pronounced him much
less a fool than he had generally shown himself in cases where his own
interest was concerned.

If the Baron, however, had really meditated such an alliance, the
indifference of Waverley would have been an insuperable bar to his
project. Our hero, since mixing more freely with the world, had learned
to think with great shame and confusion upon his mental legend of Saint
Cecilia, and the vexation of these reflections was likely, for some time
at least, to counterbalance the natural susceptibility of his
disposition. Besides, Rose Bradwardine, beautiful and amiable as we have
described her, had not precisely the sort of beauty or merit which
captivates a romantic imagination in early youth. She was too frank, too
confiding, too kind; amiable qualities, undoubtedly, but destructive of
the marvellous, with which a youth of imagination delights to dress the
empress of his affections. Was it possible to bow, to tremble, and to
adore, before the timid, yet playful little girl, who now asked Edward to
mend her pen, now to construe a stanza in Tasso, and now how to spell a
very--very long word in her version of it? All these incidents have their
fascination on the min