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He also marries a spotless heroine. Such men marrying are a danger to the community at large. The two books taken together show well the self-interest and injustice of men, the fatal ignorance and slavish apathy of women; and it may be good to know these things, but it is not agreeable."
'D'ye like hot pies? he inquired, rising and stretching himself. An hour later, in the picture house a heartrending, soul thrilling melodrama was at its last gasp. The long suffering heroine was in the arms of the long misjudged, misfortune-ridden, but ever faithful hero. 'Oh, lovely! murmured Maggie. Macgregor said nothing, but his eyes were moist.
As the great action of the latter is Cecilia's sacrifice of fortune to a virtuous and laudable attachment, so that of the former is the sacrifice of rank, in the marriage of the heroine to a young man of the most distinguished merit, but neither conspicuous by birth, nor favoured by fortune.
The face of our heroine changed its colour from red to pale, as rapidly, and as glowingly, as the evening sky flushes, and returns to its pearl-like loveliness; but she kept down her feelings sufficiently to answer, with an air of entire self-possession, "Were I to enter into all these little particulars, it would detain you from more worthy subjects.
Crawley happened to find in D'Hozier's dictionary, which was in the library, and which strengthened his belief in their truth, and in the high-breeding of Rebecca. Are we to suppose from this curiosity and prying into dictionaries, could our heroine suppose that Mr. Crawley was interested in her? no, only in a friendly way. Have we not stated that he was attached to Lady Jane Sheepshanks?
To introduce a heroine who is mad in and out, so to speak, and forgets and remembers things exactly at the right moment, seems a delightfully simple artifice. But, upon my word, I am constantly forgetting what it is that Philippa should remember, and on the point of making her remember the very things she forgets! So puzzled had I become that I consoled myself by cursing Sir Runan's memory.
Our heroine was well worthy the ovation: richly and artistically gowned, she was a perfect picture of loveliness!
Of course, Mr. Reginald was Mr. John Taylor, the only squatter I knew, but I myself was not identified with my heroine Clara Morison. I was Margaret Elliott, the girl who was studying law with her brother Gilbert; but my brother and my cousin Louisa Brodie were supposed to be figuring in my book as lovers.
She was defeated by a barn with one door, by four men with eight eyes and eight ears trivialities that would not impede the real heroine. The vivid white light of broad day began slowly to fade. Tones of grey came upon the fields, and the shadows were of lead.
But my affair is widely different; I bring back my heroine to her home in solitude and disgrace; and no sweet elation of spirits can lead me into minuteness. A heroine in a hack post-chaise is such a blow upon sentiment, as no attempt at grandeur or pathos can withstand.
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