She only answered to expostulate.  “My affections are involuntary—­yet they can only be fixed by reflection, and when they are they make quite a part of my soul, are interwoven in it, animate my actions, and form my taste:  certain qualities are calculated to call forth my sympathies, and make me all I am capable of being.  The governing affection gives its stamp to the rest—­because I am capable of loving one, I have that kind of charity to all my fellow-creatures which is not easily provoked.  Milton has asserted, That earthly love is the scale by which to heavenly we may ascend.”

She went on with eagerness.  “My opinions on some subjects are not wavering; my pursuit through life has ever been the same:  in solitude were my sentiments formed; they are indelible, and nothing can efface them but death—­No, death itself cannot efface them, or my soul must be created afresh, and not improved.  Yet a little while am I parted from my Ann—­I could not exist without the hope of seeing her again—­I could not bear to think that time could wear away an affection that was founded on what is not liable to perish; you might as well attempt to persuade me that my soul is matter, and that its feelings arose from certain modifications of it.”

“Dear enthusiastic creature,” whispered Henry, “how you steal into my soul.”  She still continued.  “The same turn of mind which leads me to adore the Author of all Perfection—­which leads me to conclude that he only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image-the shadows of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder strokes to them.  I knew I am in some degree under the influence of a delusion—­but does not this strong delusion prove that I myself ’am of subtiler essence than the trodden clod’ these flights of the imagination point to futurity; I cannot banish them.  Every cause in nature produces an effect; and am I an exception to the general rule? have I desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they never be gratified? shall I never be happy?  My feelings do not accord with the notion of solitary happiness.  In a state of bliss, it will be the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great part of our happiness.

“With these notions can I conform to the maxims of worldly wisdom? can I listen to the cold dictates of worldly prudence and bid my tumultuous passions cease to vex me, be still, find content in grovelling pursuits, and the admiration of the misjudging crowd, when it is only one I wish to please—­one who could be all the world to me.  Argue not with me, I am bound by human ties; but did my spirit ever promise to love, or could I consider when forced to bind myself—­to take a vow, that at the awful day of judgment I must give an account of.  My conscience does not smite me, and that Being who is greater than the internal monitor, may approve of what the world condemns; sensible that in Him I live, could I brave His presence, or hope in solitude to find peace, if I acted contrary to conviction, that the world might approve of my conduct—­what could the world give to compensate for my own esteem? it is ever hostile and armed against the feeling heart!