"My dear baronet, I have
never concealed from you a thought of my heart. But my present situation
is so peculiarly delicate and distressing, that I can scarcely form any
sentiment of it, or even dare trust myself to recollect it. I have seen,"
continued he, "ah, that I could forget it! a woman, beauteous as the day,
before whom the charms of Miss Frampton disappear, as, before the rising
sun, each little star _hides its diminish'd head_. Her features, full
of sensibility, her voice such as to thrill the soul and all she says,
pervaded with wit and good sense." "And where," cried the baronet, in a
lively tone, "resides this peerless she?"
"Alas," answered the disconsolate Damon, "it matters not. I shall see her
no more. Virtue, honour, every thing forbids it. I may be unhappy, but I
will never deserve to be so. Miss Frampton has my vows. Filial duty calls
on me to fulfil them. Obstacles without number, Alps on Alps arise, to
impede my prosecution of a fond and unlicensed inclination. The struggle
has cost me something, but it is over. I have recovered my health, I have
formed my resolution. This very day, (you, my good friend, will accept the
apology) I had determined to repair to Beaufort Place. Doubt and
uncertainty nourish the lingering distemper that would undo me. I will
come to a decision."
Sir William was not of a temper to abdicate any affair in which he had
embarked, before success appeared absolutely unattainable.
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