"Olivia stood in a posture firm and collected, her bosom heaving
with resentment; but her face was covered with blushes, and her
eyes were languishing and sorrowful.
"For the present unfortunate affair I will acknowledge the
truth. Mr. Burchel to me appeared endowed with every esteemable
accomplishment, brave, generous, learned, imaginative, and
tender. By what nobler qualities could a female heart be won?
Fashion, I am told, requires that we should not make the
advances. I reck not fashion, and have never been her slave.
Fortune has thrown him at a distance from me. It should have
been my boast to trample upon her imaginary distinctions. I
would never have forced an unwilling hand. But if constancy,
simplicity and regard could have won a heart, his heart had been
mine. I know that the succession of external objects would have
made the artless virtues of Olivia pass unheeded. It was for
that I formed my little plan. I will not blush for a scheme that
no bad passion prompted. But it is over, and I will return to my
beloved solitude with what unconcern I may. God bless you, Mr.
Burchel; I never meant you any harm: and in saying this, she
advanced two steps forward, and laid her hand on his.
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