Shocked at the emotion I was betraying, and in horror lest Maitland should impute it to a humbling cause, I suddenly changed my manner; haughtily declaring that I would neither distress my friend in her illness nor incur any new obligation. Maitland modestly endeavoured to shake my determination; but, finding me resolute, he rose to be gone. 'Farewell, Ellen,' said he,--'every blessing----,' the rest could not reach my ear, but while I have being, I shall remember his look as he turned from me. It was anguish, rendered more touching by a faint struggle for a smile, that came like a watery beam upon the troubled deep, making the sadness more dreary. I turned to a window, and watched till he disappeared.
I have lived to be deserted by all mankind,--to wander houseless in a land of strangers,--to gaze upon the crowds of an unknown city, assured that I should see no friend,--to be secluded, as in a living grave, from human intelligence and human sympathy; but never did I feel so desolately alone, as when I turned to the chamber where Maitland had been and felt that he was gone. Miss Mortimer's words flashed on my mind. 'The good and the wise will one by one forsake you.'--'They have forsaken me! all forsaken me!' I cried, as, throwing myself upon the ground, I rested my head upon the seat which Maitland had left, hid my face in my arm, and wept.
_In a dull stream, which moving slow, You hardly see the current flow, When a small breeze obstructs the course, It whirls about for want of force; And in its narrow circle, gathers Nothing but chaff, and straw, and feathers. The current of a female mind Stops thus, and turns with every wind. Thus whirling round, together draws, Fools, fops, and rakes, for chaff and straws._
I imagine that such of my readers as are still in their teens, and of course expect to find Cupid in ambush at every corner, will now smile sagaciously, and pronounce, 'that poor Ellen was certainly in love.' If so, I must unequivocally assert, that, in this instance, their penetration has failed them. Maitland had piqued my vanity, he had of late interested my curiosity; his conversation often amused me, and the more I was accustomed to it, the more it pleased. It is said, that they who have been restored to sight, find pleasure in the mere exercise of their newly regained faculty, without reference to its usefulness, or even to the beauty of the objects they behold; so I, without a thought of improving by Maitland's conversation, and with feeble perceptions of its excellence, was pleased to find in it occupation for faculties, which, but for him, might have slumbered inactive. I had a sort of filial confidence in his good will, and a respect approaching to reverence for his abilities and character. But this was all; for amidst all my follies, I had escaped that susceptibility which makes so many young women idle, and so many old ones ridiculous.