3 
» AMELIA MANSFIELD, 
brings to her recollection the alteted Er- 
nest, the son of her relentless enemy, 
Madame Woldemar. A reciprocal at- 
tachment succeeds to mutual attention, 
and offers'of kindnéss ; the pride of Er- 
nest prompts his flight, but his fondness 
detains him. He writes in the’ most pe- 
remptory tone to Adolphus, that the 
widow of Mansfield shall never become 
the wife of Ernest. He is aware that 
the hateful name of Amelia is never pro- 
nounced in the ears of his:mother, with- 
out reviving emotions of inexorable an- 
er: he is aware that the knowledge of 
is attachment would excite the deepest 
indignation ; and that his marriage with 
her would call down a mother’s curse, 
and be the occasion probably of her 
death. This is extravagant and impro- 
bable enough of all reason ; but it is ab- 
solutely necessary, in order to place the 
hero and-heroine in those critical and 
conflicting circumstances, without which 
every body knows that anovel would be 
unpardonably dull and stupid. Every 
thing, it is clear, must be sacrificed to 
the interest of a novel, The author who 
cannot excite and preserve interest by 
the delineation of a natural. character, 
and the detail of probable circumstances, 
makes no scruple of peopling his pages 
with such monsters either of perfection 
or iniquity, as the world never saw.— 
Opposite and irreconcileable passions are 
blended and amalgamated to produce a 
tertium quid, a third something, which, 
however ridiculous, from its absurdity, 
shall at any rate make an impression 
by its novelty. 
' As to contradictory oaths, they are 
too common in real life to be the subject 
of censure in a novel ; but we must go 
on with the story, and defer our remarks 
till we come to the end of it. 
_ Ernest, under the name of Mr. Sem- 
ler, passes several months at the chateau 
of Mr. Grandison without exciting sus- 
picion. His fondness for Amelia cannot 
_ conquer his aversion for her child, the 
as 
hated offspring of his hated and success- 
ful rival, Mansfield. When he sees the 
mother caressing her infant, he often 
behaves rudely ; but even this is set down 
to a mere whimsicality of character, un- 
! 
_ accountable indeed, but not sufficiently 
‘ 
_ odious in the sight of Amelia, the amia- 
ble, mild, and susceptible Amelia, to coun- 
_teract the impression of his seductive 
accomplishments. In short, under the 
itonic guise of friendship, she falls de- 
sperately in love with the stranger. * Liv. 
613 
ing under the same roof, their reciprocal, 
attachment cannot long be concealed 
from each other, and Ernest, maddened 
with the requital of his passion, now 
writes to Adolphus, that no power on 
earth, no consideration of duty or of 
pride, shall avail to prevent his mar« 
riage, reli 
Mr. Grandison, who feels the sincerest 
interest in every thing which concerns 
his beloved Amelia, and who saw very 
clearly the attachment which had taken 
place between the young persons, waits 
not for solicitation, but makes an offer 
of his niece’s hand, with an ample por- 
tion of his own fortune, to Mr. Semler. 
Ernest, when the cup of happiness was 
presented to his lips, refused to taste its . 
the recollection of hjs mother’s antipathy 
to the object of his profoundest love and 
adoration, (he had not seen his mother 
for ten years!) induces him to decline 
the proffered bliss. Grandison, exaspe- 
rated that Amelia’s affections should be 
thus perfidiously sported with, without 
listening to any explanation, instantly 
turns his guest out of doors, with igno- 
miny and in anger. In this forlorn si- 
tuation Ernest forgets his birth, forgets 
his mother, forgets every thing but Ame- 
lia: he contrives to send her a note, in- 
timating, that unless she meets him on 
the terrace at twelve o’clock that very 
night, to take leave of him before his 
departure to Woldemar, in order to ob- 
tain his mother’s consent, the conse 
quence will be fatal. Alarmed at this. 
‘ dreadful note of preparation,’ Amelia 
proceeds to the spot, -where-she finds her 
Semler in a state of insensibility : he had 
been waiting an hour, and in the noble’ 
violence of his distress, he had gnawed 
the stone on which he had reclined his 
head. ‘* In my impatient rage,” says, 
he in his letter to. Adolphus describing 
his situation,, . SMT 
*« I tore my hands with the gravel against 
whieh I pressed with all my~strength ; and 
this. laceration, which I was. unable to feel, 
was, nevertheless, the meons of softening my 
anguish. The clock struck twelve: each 
stroke was a dagger to my soul. Had TI re- 
mained in that situation another hour, Ame- 
lia would have found me lifeless at her door. 
I began to lose my recollection, and my dise 
tracted brain confounded all the surrounding - - 
objects, while grief remained like a aed 
weight on my heart. On hearing aslight 
noise at the door, every limb trembled; bat, 
haavever singular it may. appear, instead of 
listening attentively, the fear of destroying 
the hope I had just begun, to indulge, induc- 
Rr 3. ‘ 
