for, to follow with ardour whatever was the impulse and
fancy of the moment, was at once the charm and the danger of
my aunt's character. She could not resist the temptation of
initiating me, perhaps too early, into those studies which
captivate the imagination and excite the feelings. German and
Italian we studied together. The most romantic parts of
history--all that was most interesting and bewitching in
poetry, furnished materials for those hours which we devoted
to reading. Reading! that most powerful instrument in the
education of the heart!--silently searching into its secrets,
rousing its dormant passions, and growing sometimes itself
into a passion! But there was scarcely less excitement in
conversing with my aunt, than in reading with her. She never
took a common-place view of any subject, or shrunk from
expressing her real opinion upon it, whatever it might be.
With regard to her own feelings, she took nothing for granted;
she never persuaded herself (as so many people do) that,
because it would be right or desirable to feel and to act in a
particular manner, she did so feel and act, while her
conscience bore witness to the contrary. She was a great
searcher into motives, and fearfully true in her judgment of
people and of things: had not her character been one of the
noblest, and her mind one of the purest that ever woman was
gifted with, there would have been something startling in the
boldness of her opinions, and in the candour of her
admissions. Had she been within reach of any associates whose
feelings and understandings were in any way congenial to her
own, she would not, in all probability, have treated me,
rather as a pupil and companion, than as an intimate friend.
She would not have poured out her thoughts, to me with the
most unbounded confidence, or taught me to feel that I was
essential to her happiness; but, as it was, (for at Elmsley
she had neighbours and acquaintances, but no friends,) she did
all this, and the intense gratification which I derived from
my constant intercourse with one whom I loved with the
tenderest affection, kept me in a state of highly wrought
excitement, which, while it subdued, and even effaced, the
trivial faults of that early age, exercised on my character an
influence far from beneficial to my future happiness. One of
the subjects on which Mrs. Middleton would often speak to me
with eagerness and eloquence, was the self-deception with
which most people persuade