would make a list rivalling
that of the loves of Don Giovanni (nearly seventy volumes), and any
extended analysis or criticism would be impossible in this rapid sketch.
"Every day in my life is a leaf in my book" was a motto literally carried
out, and she tried almost every department of literature, succeeding best
in describing the broad characteristics of her own nation. "Her lovers,
like her books, were too numerous to mention," yet her own heart seemed
untouched. She coquetted gayly, but her adorers were always the sufferers.

Sir Jonah Barrington wrote her at this time a complimentary and witty
letter, in which he says of her heroine Glorvina, "I believe you stole a
spark from heaven to give animation to your idol." He thought the
inferiority of _Ida_ was owing to its author's luxurious surroundings. "I
cannot conceive why the brain should not get fat and unwieldy, as well as
any other part of the human frame. Some of our best poets have written in
paroxysms of hunger, and I really believe that Addison would have had more
point if he had had less victuals; and if you do not restrict yourself to
a sheep's trotter and spruce beer, your style will betray your luxury."
But soon came an increase of the very thing feared for her fame, in the
form of an invitation from Lady Abercorn and the marquis to pass the
chief part of every year with them. This was accepted, and thus she met
her fate. Lord Abercorn kept a physician in his house, Doctor Morgan, a
handsome, accomplished widower, whom the marchioness was anxious to
provide with a second wife. She had fixed upon Sydney as a suitable
person, but the retiring and reticent doctor had heard so much of her wit,
talents and general fascination that he disliked the idea of meeting her.
He was sitting one morning with the marchioness when a servant threw open
the door, announcing "Miss Owenson," who had just arrived. Doctor Morgan
sprang to his feet, and, there being no other way of escape, leaped
through the open window into the garden below. This was too fair a
challenge for a girl of spirit to refuse, and she set to work to captivate
him, succeeding more effectually than she desired, for she had dreamed of
making a brilliant match. Soon a letter was written to her father asking
his leave to marry the conquered doctor, yet she does not seem to have
been one bit in love. He was too grave and good, though as devoted a lover
as could be asked for. It was a queer match and a danger