hether she had a heart. Descartes informs us that the soul
usually resides in the pineal gland, but the soul of this lady seemed to
inhabit in her eyes. She had been caught with the figure of Damon. And had
a figure more perfectly beautiful, if that had been possible, or an
equipage more brilliant, presented itself, he did not doubt but that it
would carry away the prize.

Miss Frampton was heiress to a fortune of fifty thousand pounds. The
father of Damon, whose soul, in union with some amiable qualities, which
served him for a disguise, had the misfortune to be exceedingly mercenary
at the bottom, had proposed the match to his son. Damon, who had never in
his life been guilty of an act of disobedience, received the
recommendation of his father with a prejudice in its favour. He waited
upon the young lady and found her beautiful, high spirited, accomplished,
and incensed by a thousand worshippers. Her disposition was not indeed
congenial to his own. But he was prejudiced by filial duty, dazzled by her
charms, and led on insensibly by the mildness and pliableness of his
character. In a word, every thing had been concluded, and the wedding was
daily expected to take place.

CHAPTER VIII.

_Two Persons of Fashion_.

In pursuance of the determination he had formed, sir William immediately
set out for Oxford, where his friend still resided. As he had lived with
him upon terms of the most unreserved familiarity, he made use of the
liberty of an intimate, and, without being announced, abruptly entered his
chamber. Damon was sitting in a melancholy posture, his countenance
dejected, and his eye languid. Upon the entrance of the baronet he looked
up, and struck with the sudden appearance of one to whom he was so
ardently attached, his visage for a moment assumed an air of gaiety and
pleasure.

"Ha," cried sir William, with his wonted spriteliness of accent, "methinks
the countenance of my Damon does not bespeak the sentiments that become a
bridegroom." "I am afraid not," answered Damon. "But tell me to what am I
indebted for this agreeable and unexpected visit?" "We will talk of that
another time. But when did you see my play-fellow, Miss Frampton?" "I have
not seen her," replied our hero with a sigh half uttered, and half
suppressed, "these ten days." "What" cried the baronet, "no
misunderstanding, eh?" "Not absolutely that. I saw her, I fear, without
all the rapture that becomes a lover, and she resented it with