BLEN. Shortly after you left me at college, I formed an attachment to
a young girl that I idolized with all the enthusiasm of youth.
SIR W. Aye, aye; we generally begin that way.
BLEN. My passion was returned with equal fervor; when it became
necessary that I should select my position in life. My friends
suggested the army, and my inclination led me to adopt their views.
Ireland soon became my destination--a constant correspondence with the
object of my passion was my only solace in exile, and for months I
almost daily opened a letter written by her dear hand.
SIR W. How delightful! I have often thought how charming it must be to
receive an eloquent letter from a much-loved source--to have the
colloquial grace of a Sévigné mingled with the fervor of a Heloise, or
the moral delicacy of a Chapone. Oh, my dear fellow, I envy you!
BLEN. Have you never experienced that happiness?
SIR W. Never;--but proceed with your history, mine shall follow--you
went to Ireland, and there received letters from the lady of your
love.
BLEN. A long silence ensued.
SIR W. What anxious hours you must have passed.
BLEN. Till one morning my servant placed a letter on my table--the
object of my passion had married during her silence.
SIR W. I guessed as much--always something ominous in a woman's
silence.
BLEN. Her parents had met with misfortunes--a wealthy match presented
itself--a match with a title.
SIR W. A match with a title!--ignition at once, of course.
BLEN. The temptation, added to the prayers of her friends, were too
much for her. She yielded, but assured me she had done so with a
broken heart--implored me to forget her--that her lot in life was
cast, that the stern duties of her future existence should be
fulfilled if she died in the struggle, yet confessed that I still
occupied one little corner in her heart, and concluded with a
beautiful quotation from Milton.
SIR W. A refined mind, an educated divinity, no doubt--one formed to
adorn the rank she had gained.
BLEN. She was indeed accomplished.
SIR W. I thought so. Spoke Italian, no doubt?
BLEN. Fluently.
SIR W. And French?
BLEN. Better than a native.
SIR W. What a woman! Understood music?
BLEN. An enthusiast in the science.
SIR W. And mineralogy and archæology?
BLEN. Perfectly.
SIR W. And the steam engine?
BLEN. Yes.
SIR W. And the vestiges of creation?
BLEN. Yes, and chaos, and everything.
SIR W. What a woman! I should have adored her. And you lost this
professor in petticoats?
BLEN. Irrevocably! She concealed the name and title of her husband, as
she did not wish me to write in reply, as any reproach from me would
but add to her wretchedness--and now you know the cause of my
dejection.
SIR W. I pity you from my heart. If you have _lost_ a treasure, you
should see the one that I have _found_.
BLEN. _You_ are married, I hear.
SIR W. Yes, I also formed an attachment to a young girl that I
idolised. You have known me some years--that is to say, I was leaving
college shortly after you entered, and you know how I have ever prized
education--that it has been my watchword, my constant theme when I had
a seat in Parliament. I don't sit now, but that's not _my_ fault; but
when I _did_ sit, my constant agitation was education. "Educate," said
I, "educate! that is the panacea for every social evil!"
BLEN. I've read your speeches.
SIR W. You should have heard them--will you hear one now?
BLEN. Don't trouble yourself.
SIR W. Well, after dinner. One day, Sir, in riding through the
country, my horse stumbled, and I was thrown violently. My head
encountered the edge of a stone wall; the wall being the hardest I was
the only sufferer. Stunned and bleeding I was carried into a
farm-house. My injuries were so severe that I was compelled to remain
there for some weeks. The farmer's daughter constantly waited on me,
paid me so much attention, so amused me, so anticipated my every
wish--in short, made herself so necessary to my comforts, that----