IV.—­Heart Against Reason

Behind a light screen, which threw a shadow on her, sat a young lady, reading; she rose and came to him.  It was the Amazon!  Unable to restrain himself, he fell on his knee and cried “It is she!” He seized her hand, and kissed it with unbounded rapture.

A day or two later, the following letter from Theresa was handed to Wilhelm.

“I am yours, as I am, and as you know me.  I call you mine, as you are, and as I know you.  As it is no passion, but trust and inclination for each other, that leads us together, we run less risk than thousands of others.  You will forgive me, will you not, if I still think often and kindly of my former friend; in return, I will press Felix to my heart, as if I were his mother.  Adieu, dear friend!  Theresa clasps you to her breast with hope and joy.”

Natalia wrote a letter to her brother; she invited Wilhelm to add a word or two.  They were just about to seal it, when Jarno unexpectedly came in.

“I am come,” he said, “to give you very curious and pleasing tidings about Theresa; now guess.”

“We are more skilful than you think,” said Natalia, smiling.  “Before you asked, we had the answer down in black and white,” handing him as she spoke the letter she had just written.  Jarno read the sheet hastily.  “What shall I say?” cried he.  “Surprise against surprise!  I came to tell you that Theresa is not the daughter of her reputed mother.  There is no obstacle to her marriage with Lothario:  I came to ask you to prepare her for it.”

“And what,” said Lothario, taking Wilhelm by the hand, “what if your alliance with my sister were the secret article on which depended my alliance with Theresa?  These amends the noble maiden has appointed for you; she has vowed that we two pairs should appear together at the altar.  ‘His reason has made choice of me,’ she said; ’his heart demands Natalia:  my reason shall assist his heart.’”

Lothario embraced his friend, and led him to Natalia, who, with Theresa, came to meet them.  “To my mind, thou resemblest Saul, the son of Kish, who went out to seek his father’s asses, and found a kingdom.”

“I know not the worth of a kingdom,” said Wilhelm, “but I know that I have attained a happiness undeserved, which I would not change for anything in life.”

* * * * *

OLIVER GOLDSMITH

The Vicar of Wakefield

Oliver Goldsmith, the most versatile and perhaps the most unstable of eighteenth century men of letters, was born in Ireland on November 10, 1728.  At Trinity College, Dublin, he revealed three characteristics that clung to him throughout his career—­high spirits, conversational brilliance, and inability to keep money in his pocket.  After a spell of “philosophic vagabondage” on the Continent, he settled in London in 1756, earned money in various ways,