imprudence it may carry you!—Why, he is a perfect model, is he not? But let me ask you, my dear niece, is love, according to your notions and feelings, thus cool and considerate?—does it pause to weigh right and duty?—is it so very rational and contemplative?. . . "Yes," replied Calantha, somewhat piqued. "Virtuous love can make sacrifices; but, when love is united with guilt, it becomes selfish and thinks only of the present moment." "And how, my little philosopher, did you acquire so prematurely this wonderful insight into the nature of love?" "By feeling it," said Calantha, triumphantly; "and by comparing my own feelings with what I have heard called by that name in others."
As she said this, her colour rose, and she fixed her animated blue eyes full upon Lady Margaret's face; but vainly did she endeavour to raise emotion there; that countenance, steady and unruffled, betrayed not even a momentary
