penetrating eye on mine—and, to a mind so little delicate as your's, the tender feelings of the soul can be but of trifling estimation:—Urge me then no more, you may deserve my esteem, but never can possess my heart."
"Eugenia!" cried the Count, in an angry tone, "is this treatment for you to offer, or my benefactor to endure?"
"Your pardon, Sir," (returned she;) "I simply speak the dictates of truth, and the Baron has no cause to be offended; I know my duties, and will perform them."—Provoked as I was, and vowing vengeance in my heart, I thought it best to diversify our subjects of conversation, and appear submissive to her will: I endeavoured to repress my feelings, and by silent assiduities obtain her attention; but a chilling reserve, and a studied politeness, was all the return I met with. I freely confess, rage and resentful pride had an equal share with love in my desire to obtain her hand. Unaccustomed to have my will disputed, I was hurt and mortified to see all my complaisance thrown
