enius struck him with surprise; he found she had a
capacious mind, and that her reason was as profound as her imagination
was lively. She glanced from earth to heaven, and caught the light of
truth. Her expressive countenance shewed what passed in her mind, and
her tongue was ever the faithful interpreter of her heart; duplicity
never threw a shade over her words or actions. Mary found him a man of
learning; and the exercise of her understanding would frequently make
her forget her griefs, when nothing else could, except benevolence.

This man had known the mistress of the house in her youth; good nature
induced him to visit her; but when he saw Mary he had another
inducement. Her appearance, and above all, her genius, and cultivation
of mind, roused his curiosity; but her dignified manners had such an
effect on him, he was obliged to suppress it. He knew men, as well as
books; his conversation was entertaining and improving. In Mary's
company he doubted whether heaven was peopled with spirits masculine;
and almost forgot that he had called the sex "the pretty play things
that render life tolerable."

He had been the slave of beauty, the captive of sense; love he ne'er had
felt; the mind never rivetted the chain, nor had the purity of it made
the body appear lovely in his eyes. He was humane, despised meanness;
but was vain of his abilities, and by no means a useful member of
society. He talked often of the beauty of virtue; but not having any
solid foundation to build the practice on, he was only a shining, or
rather a sparkling character: and though his fortune enabled him to
hunt down pleasure, he was discontented.

Mary observed his character, and wrote down a train of reflections,
which these observations led her to make; these reflections received a
tinge from her mind; the present state of it, was that kind of painful
quietness which arises from reason clouded by disgust; she had not yet
learned to be resigned; vague hopes agitated her.

"There are some subjects that are so enveloped in clouds, as you
dissipate one, another overspreads it. Of this kind are our reasonings
concerning happiness; till we are obliged to cry out with the Apostle,
_That it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive in what it
could consist_, or how satiety could be prevented. Man seems formed for
action, though the passions are seldom properly managed; they are
either so languid as not to serve as a spur, or else so violent,