I could settle down quietly in a corner, and enter with my whole
heart and soul into the joys or sorrows of some fictitious Leonora.
I do not deny that they even possess some charms for me yet. But
I read so seldom, that I prefer books suited exactly to my taste.
And I like those authors best whose scenes describe my own situation
in life, -- and the friends who are about me, whose stories touch
me with interest, from resembling my own homely existence, -- which,
without being absolutely paradise, is, on the whole, a source of
indescribable happiness."

I endeavoured to conceal the emotion which these words occasioned,
but it was of slight avail; for, when she had expressed so truly
her opinion of "The Vicar of Wakefield," and of other works, the
names of which I omit (Though the names are omitted, yet the authors
mentioned deserve Charlotte's approbation, and will feel it in
their hearts when they read this passage. It concerns no other
person.), I could no longer contain myself, but gave full utterance
to what I thought of it: and it was not until Charlotte had addressed
herself to the two other ladies, that I remembered their presence,
and observed them sitting mute with astonishment. The aunt looked
at me several times with an air of raillery, which, however, I did
not at all mind.

We talked of the pleasures of dancing. "If it is a fault to love
it," said Charlotte, "I am ready to confess that I prize it above
all other amusements. If anything disturbs me, I go to the piano,
play an air to which I have danced, and all goes right again
directly."

You, who know me, can fancy how steadfastly I gazed upon her rich