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loved not Poetry—nor ever took a lonely walk to meditate—never beheld Virtue, which he did not try to disbelieve, or Female Beauty and Innocence, which he did not lust to contaminate.
A sneer was perpetually upon his face, and malice grinning at his heart. He would say the most ill-natured things, with the least remorse, of any man I ever knew. This gained him the reputation of a wit—other traits got him the reputation of a Villain.
And this man formerly paid his court to Elinor Clare!—with what success I leave my readers to determine.—It was not in Elinor's nature to despise any living thing—but inthe
