blameless life of Philimore, and in sentiment, truth, and morals resembled him! Freely then could she have admitted his suit, and have avowed without blushing that partiality with which he had so fervently sought to inspire her; that partiality even then existing, having outlived the hopes which had formerly given it strength—though deprecating her weakness, yet unable to subdue it.
Unfortunately for Rosilia, she was thrown into solitude in that susceptible period when, with a native enthusiasm of character, her heart had first opened to a youthful impression. Secluded from the possibility of ever beholding another who could in the least dispute with Douglas his reign over her fancy, those imperfections, originating in the love of the world and pride of shining, formerly so regretted by her, were then, if not wholly forgotten, at least considerably softened to her view.
No longer present to excite the blush of confusion by his obvious notice of her, she could invest him with a thousand graces, a thousand irresistible qualities; his radiant expression, his frank and open mien, his whole dazzling and manly deportment rendered him to her fancy what ancient historians combined in description to paint their knights of chivalry; effects arising, she was willing
