proneness to romantic friendship, and a pining after good not consistent
with our nature. I imagined that I had kept at a distance all such books
and companions as tend to produce this fantastic character; and whence you
imbibed this perverse spirit, at so early an age, is, to me,
inconceivable. It cost me many a gloomy foreboding.

My disquiets increased as you grew up, and that age arrived when the
heart comes to be entangled with what is called love. I was anxious to
find for you a man of merit, to whose keeping your happiness might safely
be intrusted. Talbot was such a one, but the wayward heart refused to love
him. He was not all your fancy had conceived of excellent and lovely. He
was a mere man, with the tastes and habits suitable and common to his
education and age. He was addicted to industry, was regular and frugal in
his manner and economy. He had nothing of that specious and glossy texture
which captivates inexperience and youth, and serves as a substitute for
every other virtue. While others talked about their duty, he was contented
with performing it; and he was satisfied with ignorance of theories as
long as his practice was faultless.

He was just such a one as I wished for the darling of my heart; but you
thought not so. You did not object to his age, though almost double your
own; to his person or aspect, though they were by no means worthy of his
mind; to his profession or condition; but your heart sighed after one who
could divide with you your sympathies; who saw every thing just as you saw
it; who could emulate your enthusiasm, and echo back every exclamation
which chance should dictate to you.

You even pleaded religion as one of your objections. Talbot, it seems,
had nothing that deserved to be called religion. He had never reasoned on
the subject. He had read no books and had never looked into his Bible