ulating cares of a harsh
world into the thoughtless Eden in which they now wandered. And, for her
father, even if the sad engagement with Miss Grandison did not exist,
with what front could Ferdinand solicit the hand of his daughter?
What prospect could he hold out of worldly prosperity to the anxious
consideration of a parent? Was he himself independent? Was he not worse
than a beggar? Could he refer Mr. Temple to Sir Ratcliffe? Alas! it
would be an insult to both! In the meantime, every hour Mr. Temple
might return, or something reach the ear of Henrietta fatal to all his
aspirations. Armine with all its cares, Bath with all its hopes; his
melancholy father, his fond and sanguine mother, the tender-hearted
Katherine, the devoted Glastonbury, all rose up before him, and crowded
on his tortured imagination. In the agony of his mind he wished himself
alone in the world: he sighed for some earthquake to swallow up Armine
and all its fatal fortunes; and as for those parents, so affectionate
and virtuous, and to whom he had hitherto been so dutiful and devoted,
he turned from their idea with a sensation of weariness, almost of
dislike.

He sat down on the trunk of a tree and buried his face in his hands.
His reverie had lasted some time, when a gentle sound disturbed him.
He looked up; it was Henrietta. She had driven over the common in her
pony-chair and unattended. She was but a few steps from him; and as he
looked up, he caught her fond smile. He sprang from his seat; he was at
her side in an instant; his heart beat so tumultuously that he could
not speak; all dark thoughts were forgotten; he seized with a trembling
touch her extended hand, and gazed upon her with a glance of ecstasy.
For, indeed, she looked so beautiful that it seemed to him he had never
before done justice to her surpassing loveliness. There was a bloom
upon her cheek, as upon some choice and delicate fruit; her violet eyes
sparkled like gems; while the dimples played and quivered on her cheeks,
as you may sometimes watch the sunbeam on the pure surface of fair
water. Her countenance, indeed, was wreathed with smiles. She seemed the
happiest thing on earth; the very personification of a poetic spring;
lively, and fresh, and innocent; sparkling, and sweet, and soft. When he
beheld her, Ferdinand was reminded of some gay bird, or airy antelope;
she looked so bright and joyous!

'He is to get in,' said Henrietta with a smile, and drive her to their
cott