proposal was somewhat premature, as though the impression was strong on his mind that the lady was very sensible to his merits, yet it was difficult to decide on what grounds this impression rested.
It was this indecision that constituted the science of Adelaide's skill; hers was a mixed government of fear and hope—a look was to say every thing, which, on being interpreted, might mean nothing. Like a politic minister, her care was—not to commit herself; she left all to the imagination, but not till that imagination was properly excited: the signs of her preference, like the oracles of old, were always susceptible of two interpretations; and a rejected suitor would scarcely have known whether to curse her falsehood or his own vanity. But this was a finale she ever avoided: an offer, like the rock of adamant in Sinbad's voyages, finishes the attraction by destroying the vessel; and, like the Roman conqueror, she desired living captives to lead in her triumph—an ovation of petits soins, graceful flatteries, anxious looks, pretty anger, judicious pique, and vague hopes.
Edward Lorraine rode on, fully convinced that blue was the loveliest colour in the world
