again ventured, in the most persuasive terms, to express a wish that she would do so. Again, however, she declined, stating as a reason, that she had read some of the best novels, and did not wish to extend her knowledge of them.
That a pristine innocence was as a plant, of most delicate and fragile nature, and alike subject to wither and decay, was an impression that had been early imbibed and deeply engrafted on the mind of Rosilia. She, in consequence, felt an invincible dread of aught that could sully or in the least diminish the native purity of its lustre. The combating with her feelings, as indeed every action of Rosilia, proceeded from those high, sublime, and exalted ideas she entertained of virtue, entirely removed from all that was beneath the views and contemplations of a rational and immortal creature; to act up with firmness and decision to such divine precepts was ever the most devout and dearest wish of her heart.
The Sorrows of Werter, might or might not be an exception to that species of writing she had heard condemned; nevertheless, though she was endowed with a fancy replete in poetic imagery, she had no relish for works, that did not combine with taste, high moral instruction.
Melliphant sought to disguise the inward vexation he felt, and resolved not to be discouraged, trusting in some luckier moment he might overcome her scruples. Werter still remained his pocket companion.
