and finery--the wreck of her
fortunes--before her eyes; without society, without a single
friend, admired--and despised. She lived literally in spite, not in
pity. Her cruelty in drawing a profligate character of the queen,
after her execution, in _Les Chevaliers du Cigne_; her taking her
pupils at the beginning of the Revolution to the revolutionary
clubs; her connection with the late Duke of Orleans, and her
hypocrisy about it; her insisting on being governess to his
children when the duchess did not wish it, and its being supposed
that it was she who instigated the duke in all his horrible
conduct; and, more than all the rest, her own attacks and
apologies, have brought her into all this isolated state of
reprobation. And now, my dear aunt, I have told you all I know, or
have heard or think about her; and perhaps I have tired you, but I
fancied that it was a subject particularly interesting to you; and
if I have been mistaken you will, with your usual good nature,
forgive me and say, "I am sure Maria meant it kindly."

While at Paris, at the mature age of thirty-six, there happened to Miss
Edgeworth what is said to be the most important episode in a woman's
life--she fell in love. The object of her affections was a M.
Edelcrantz, a Swede, private secretary to the King, whose strong,
spirited character and able conversation attracted her greatly. She had
not, however, reasoned concerning her feelings, and never realized
either how strong they were, or dreamed that they would be reciprocated.
Knowing herself to be plain and, as she deemed, unattractive, and being
no longer young, it did not occur to her that any man would wish to
marry her. While writing a long, chatty letter to her aunt one day in
December, she was suddenly interrupted by his visit and proposal:--

Here, my dear aunt, I was interrupted in a manner that will
surprise you as much as it surprised me, by the coming in of
Monsieur Edelcrantz, a Swedish gentleman, whom we have mentioned to
you, of superior understanding and mild manners; he came to offer
me his hand and heart!!

My heart, you may suppose, cannot return his attachment, for I have
seen very little of him, and have not had time to form any
judgment, except that I think nothing could tempt me to leave my
own dear friends and my own country to live in Sweden. My dearest