acrificed to a rigid punctilio of honour the
dearest ideas of my heart. I beheld your unrivalled charms, and deeply
felt their power. Yet, while a possibility of Melvil's reformation
remained, and while I was restrained by my niggard fortune from making a
tender worthy of your acceptance, I combated with my inclinations, and
bore without repining the pangs of hopeless love. But, now that my
honour is disengaged, and my fortune rendered independent, by the last
will of a worthy nobleman, whose friendship I was favoured with in
France, I presume to lay myself at the feet of the adorable Monimia, as
the most faithful of admirers, whose happiness or misery wholly depends
upon her nod. Believe me, madam, these are not the professions of idle
gallantry--I speak the genuine, though imperfect, language of my heart.
Words, even the most pathetic, cannot do justice to my love. I gaze upon
your beauty with ravishment; but I contemplate the graces of your soul
with such awful veneration, that I tremble while I approach you, as if my
vows were addressed to some superior being."

During this declaration, which was pronounced in the most emphatic
manner, Monimia was successively agitated with shame, anger, and grief;
nevertheless, she summoned her whole philosophy to her aid, and, with a
tranquil, though determined air, begged he would not diminish the
obligations he had already conferred, by disturbing with such
unseasonable addresses a poor unhappy maid, who had detached all her
thoughts from earthly objects, and waited impatiently for that
dissolution which alone could put a period to her misfortunes.

Fathom, imagining that these were no other than the suggestions of a
temporary disappointment and despondence, which it was his business to
oppose with all his eloquence and art, renewed his theme with redoubled
ardour, and, at last, became so importunate in his desires, that Monimia,
provoked beyond the power of concealing her resentment, said, she was
heartily sorry to find herself under the necessity of telling him, that,
in the midst of her misfortunes, she could not help remembering what she
had been. Then, rising from her seat, with all the dignity of
displeasure, "Perhaps," added she, "you have forgot who was the father of
the once happy Monimia."

With these words she retired into another chamber, leaving our adventurer
confounded by the repulse he had sustained. Not that he was discouraged
from prosecuting his aim--