was not one resembling Rosilia, but it was Rosilia herself, of this he felt assured, who, in passing, had been accidentally thrown in his way in Baker-street, whilst supported on crutches; none other but she, in the momentary glance he had caught of her, could have had the power of conveying that charm to his soul, and of calling from him the rapturous exclamation he had uttered.
He little thought that, in acting the part of a tender guardian to his child, she had become as equally dear and necessary to her as a mother. That beloved girl who had formerly impressed her image upon his heart, re-animating from a temporary suspension of thought and motion, appeared before him, invested with the most enchanting graces, replete in goodness, in all that could render her lovely and ravishing to his sight! He had once offered himself a candidate for her hand, he had aspired to her affections, but had met with repulse, the cause of which existed with herself alone; conscious he had possessed the ability of rendering himself acceptable, otherwise, to her parents.
How greatly had he suffered, how cruel had been his disappointment! but it was from thence his pride and vanity had received their first check. It was truly to Rosilia, then, he owed that sense of his own unworthiness, that deep compunction, which had effected a change so salutary, and that secret calm of a self-approving conscience he now possessed. Such considerations, added to the first early and vivid
