PAGE 17
Imagination
by
About the time this letter was written, Miss Emmerson made both of her nieces acquainted with the promised project that was to give them the agreeable surprise:–she had long contemplated going to see “the Falls,” and she now intended putting her plan into execution. Katherine was herself pressed to make one of the party, but the young lady, at the same time she owned her wish to see this far-famed cataract, declined the offer firmly, but gratefully, on account of her desire to spend the remaining time with her father and mother, before they went to the south. Charles Weston looked from Katherine to Julia during this dialogue, and for an instant was at a loss to know which he thought the handsomest of the cousins. But Julia entered into the feelings of the others so quickly, and so gracefully offered to give up the journey, in order that Miss Emmerson might continue with her brother, that, aided by her superior beauty, she triumphed. It was evident, that consideration for her niece was a strong inducement with the aunt for making the journey, and the contest became as disinterested as it was pleasing to the auditors. But the authority of Miss Emmerson prevailed, and Charles was instantly enlisted as their escort for the journey. Julia never looked more beautiful or amiable than during this short controversy. It had been mentioned by the aunt that she should take the house of Mr. Miller in her road, and the information excited an emotion that brought all her lustre to her eyes, and bloom to her cheeks. Charles thought it was a burst of generous friendship, and admired the self-denial with which she urged her aunt to relinquish the idea. But Julia was constitutionally generous, and it was the excess of the quality that made her enthusiastic and visionary. If she did not deserve all of Charles’s admiration, she was entitled to no small share of it. As soon as the question was determined in favour of going, Miss Emmerson and Katherine withdrew, leaving Charles alone with the heroine of our tale. Under the age of five-and- twenty, men commonly act at the instigation of sudden impulse, and young Weston was not yet twenty-one. He had long admired Julia for her beauty and good feelings; he did not see one half of her folly, and he knew all of her worth; her enthusiastic friendship for Miss Miller was forgotten; even her mirth at his own want of heroism had at the moment escaped his memory– and the power of the young lady over him was never greater.
“How admirable in you, Julia,” he said, seating himself by her side, “to urge what was against your own wishes, in order to oblige your aunt!”
“Do you think so, Charles?” said the other simply; “but you see I urged it feebly, for I did not prevail.”
“No, for you mistook your aunt’s wishes, it seems: she desires to go–but then all the loveliness of the act was yours.”
At the word loveliness, Julia raised her eyes to his face with a slight blush–it was new language for Charles Weston to use, and it was just suited to her feelings. After a moment’s pause. however, she replied–
“You use strong language, cousin Charles, such as is unusual for you.”
“Julia, although I may not often have expressed it, I have long thought you to be very lovely!” exclaimed the young man, borne away with his ardour at the moment.
“Upon my word, Charles, you improve,” said Julia, blushing yet more deeply, and, if possible, looking still handsomer than before.
“Julia–Miss Warren–you tear my secret from me before its time–I love you, Julia, and would wish to make you my wife.”
This was certainly very plain English, nor did Julia misunderstand a syllable of what he said–but it was entirely new and unexpected to her; she had lived with Charles Weston with the confidence of a kinswoman, but had never dreamt of him as a lover. Indeed, she saw nothing in him that looked like a being to excite or to entertain such a passion; and although from the moment of his declaration she began insensibly to think differently of him, nothing was farther from her mind than to return his offered affection. But then the opportunity of making a sacrifice to her secret love was glorious, and her frankness forbade her to conceal the truth. Indeed, what better way was there to destroy the unhappy passion of Charles, than to convince him of its hopelessness? These thoughts flashed through her mind with the rapidity of lightning–and trembling with the agitation and novelty of her situation, she answered in a low voice–