that that young lady was sure to cool down, as other young ladies,
noteworthily her own mother's daughter, had done under like
circumstances. The story prefers this elaborate way of referring to what
that august lady said to herself, to more literal and commonplace
formulas of speech; because it emphasizes the official, personal, and
historical character of the speaker, the hearer, and the instance she
cited, respectively. She spoke as a Countess, a Woman of the World, one
who knew what her duty was to herself and her daughter, and had made up
her mind to perform it, and not be influenced by sentimental nonsense.
She listened as a parent, really very fond of this beautiful creature
for which she was responsible, and painfully conscious of a bias towards
sentimental nonsense, which taxed her respect for her official adviser.
She referred to her historical precedent--her own early experience--with
a confidence akin to that of the passenger in sight of Calais, who dares
to walk about the deck because he knows how soon it will be safe to say
he was always a very good sailor.

But just as that very good sailor is never quite free from painful
memories of moments on the voyage, over which he might have had to draw
a veil, so this lady had to be constantly on her guard against recurrent
images of her historical precedent, during her periods of wavering
between her two suitors. Could she not remember--could she ever forget
rather?--Romeo's passionate epistles and Juliet's passionate answers,
during that period of enforced separation; when the latter had not begun
to cool down, and was still able to speak of Gwen's father--undeveloped
then in that capacity--as a tedious, middle-aged prig whom her
ridiculous aunt wanted to force upon her? Was it a sufficient set-off
against all this fiery correspondence that she had burned one
preposterous--and red-hot--effusion, and started seriously on cooling,
because a friend brought her news that Romeo was not pining at all, but
had, on the contrary, danced three waltzes with a fascinating cousin of
hers? Of course it was, said the Countess officially, and she had
behaved like a good historical precedent, which Gwen would follow in due
course. Give her time.

Nevertheless her unofficial self was grave and reflective more than once
over the likeness of this young Adrian to Hamilton, his father,
especially in his faculty for talking nonsense. Some people seemed to
think his verses good. Per