managed, I interpreted her Looks; I endeavour'd to make her least
Motions my Lessons. So much Obstinacy in not losing Sight of her
made me at last taken notice of by her. She looked upon me in her
turn, I fix'd her without knowing it, and during the Charm with
which I was captivated whether I wou'd or not, I know not what my
Eyes told her, but she turn'd hers away with a sort of Blush._

None but a Man who was at that Juncture, or had been formerly, in
Love cou'd, with so much Truth and Delicacy, have painted all the
Motions of the Soul. Genius, Wit, and Learning cannot draw Pictures
so much to the Life, it being a Point to which the Heart alone can
attain. When I say the Heart, I mean a tender Heart, and one that is
in such Situations. The following is the Character of a Prude in
Love. _Being not to be depended upon in her Proceedings, she was a
perpetual Mixture of Tenderness and Severity: She seem'd to yield
only to be the more obstinate in her Opposition. If she thought she
had, by what she said, disposed me to entertain any sort of Hopes,
being on the Watch how to disappoint me, she presently resum'd that
Air which had made me so often tremble, and left me nothing to
trust to but a melancholy Uncertainty_. One cannot help being struck
with the Truth and Nature which, prevail in this Character. Without
an Acquaintance with the World, and a perfect Knowledge of Mankind,
'tis impossible to attain to this Point. 'Tis difficult to
distinguish the different Forms, and, as one may say, the internal
Motives of different Characters. A mean Writer does only take a
Sketch of 'em; but a good Author paints them, sets them plainly in
Sight, and exposes them as they really are.

A Romance is consider'd in no other Light than as a Work composed
only for Amusement; but something else ought to be the Scope of it: