mixture of both, invested him with a sort of mysterious interest. Elinor
felt her vanity flattered by the belief that her charms had touched a
heart hitherto invulnerable to female beauty. She was, indeed, his first
love, and his last.

Elinor was too romantic to think of uniting herself to a man whom she
could not love, for the sake of his wealth; and she prudently and
honorably shunned the advances of her taciturn admirer. She knew that
his father had been her father's implacable enemy; that all intimacy
between the families had been strictly prohibited at the Hall; and when
the heir of that noble demesne made their cottage a resting-place after
the fatigues of hunting, and requested a draught of milk from her hands
to allay his thirst, or a bunch of roses from her little flower plot to
adorn his waistcoat, Elinor answered his demands with secret mistrust
and terror; although, with the coquetry so natural to her sex, she could
not hate him for the amiable weakness of regarding her with admiration.

Alas, poor Elinor! why sacrifice to this heartless vanity the peace and
integrity of your mind; and for the sake of winning a smile, to which
you attach no real value, unseal for ever the fountain of tears?

Avarice for a long time struggled with Mark Hurdlestone's growing
passion for Elinor Wildegrave; nor could he prevail upon himself to ask
the penniless daughter of an executed traitor to become his wife. He was
too proud to brave the sneers of the world; too prudent to combat with
his father's disappointed hopes and fierce anger. His fortune he knew
would be large--but when is avarice satisfied? and he abandoned the
first generous impulse he had ever felt, with the first sigh he had ever
breathed.