agitation, the captain told him in the course
of conversation, that Emilia was arrived in town, and had inquired about
Mr. Pickle with such an eagerness of concern, as seemed to proclaim that
she was in some measure informed of his misfortune: he therefore
desired to know if he might be allowed to make her acquainted with
his situation, provided he should be again importuned by her on that
subject, which he had at first industriously waived. This proof, or
rather presumption, of her sympathizing regard, did not fail to operate
powerfully upon the bosom of Peregrine, which was immediately filled
with those tumults which love, ill-stifled, frequently excites. He
observed, that his disgrace was such as could not be effectually
concealed; therefore he saw no reason for depriving himself of Emilia's
compassion, since he was for ever excluded from her affection; and
desired Godfrey to present to his sister the lowly respects of a
despairing lover.

But, notwithstanding his declaration of despondence on this head, his
imagination involuntarily teemed with more agreeable ideas. The proposal
of Crabtree had taken root in his reflection, and he could not help
forming plans of pastoral felicity in the arms of the lovely Emilia,
remote from those pompous scenes which he now detested and despised.
He amused his fancy with the prospect of being able to support her in a
state of independency, by means of the slender annuity which it was
in his power to purchase, together with the fruits of those endeavours
which would profitably employ his vacant hours; and foresaw provision
for his growing family in the friendship of the lieutenant, who had
already constituted him his heir. He even parcelled out his hours among
the necessary cares of the world, the pleasures of domestic bliss, and
the enjoyments of a country life; and spent the night in ideal parties
with his charming bride, sometimes walking by the sedgy bank of some
transparent stream, sometimes pruning the luxuriant vine, and sometimes
sitting in social converse with her in a shady grove of his own
planting.

These, however, were no more than the shadowy phantoms of imagination,
which, he well knew, would never be realized: not that he believed such
happiness unattainable by a person in his circumstances, but because he
would not stoop to propose a scheme which might, in any shape, seem to
interfere with the interest of Emilia, or subject himself to a repulse
from that young lad