a sprightliness in her whole figure which was very
attractive: her conversation was suitable to it, she had great life and
spirit, all the common routine of discourse and a fashionable readiness
to skim lightly over all subjects. Her understanding was sufficiently
circumscribed, but what she wanted in real sense she made up in
vivacity, no unsuccessful substitute in general estimation.

This young lady was almost a new character to Mr Alworth. He had lived
constantly at his grandmother's till he went abroad, and as soon as he
returned into the kingdom he went thither; from which, as it was the
middle of summer and consequently London had no temptations, he had
never stirred. He therefore had been little used to any woman but his
sober and sensible grandmother, two cousins who were pretty enough, but
had no great charms of understanding; a sister rather silly; and the
incomparable Harriot, whose wit was as sound as her judgement solid and
sterling, free from affectation and all little effeminate arts and airs.
Reason governed her thoughts and actions, nor could the greatest flow of
spirits make her for a moment forget propriety. Every thing in her was
natural grace, she was always consistent and uniform, and a stranger to
caprice.

Miss Melman was a complete coquette, capricious and fantastical. As Mr
Alworth was the prettiest man at the place and known to have a good
fortune, she soon singled him out as a conquest worthy of her and
successfully played off all her arts. By appearing to like him, she
enticed him to address her; and by a well managed capriciousness of
behaviour kept up the spirit of a pursuit. She frequently gave him
reason to believe her favourably disposed towards him, and as often, by
obliging him to doubt of it, increased his desire to be certain it was
true. She kept him in a state of constant anxiety, and made him know her
consequence by the continual transition from pleasure to pain in which
he lived.

He had not been much more than a fortnight at Buxton when his attachment
to Miss Melman became apparent. Harriot saw an assiduity in his
behaviour very different from what he had ever shewn to her. He felt
that in the circumstances wherein he and Harriot then were, his conduct
must appear injurious, and shame and the secret reproaches of his
conscience made him take all possible opportunities of avoiding her
presence: if he was obliged to converse with her, it was with an air so
restrained and ina