dozen, at a time?"

"Impossible!" cried my mother. "And as for this Lady Ellinor, I am
shocked at her--I don't know what to call it!"

"Nor I either, my dear," said my father, slowly taking his hand from his
waistcoat, as if the effort were too much for him, and the problem were
insoluble. "But this, begging your pardon, I do think, that before a
young woman does really, truly, and cordially centre her affections on
one object, she suffers fancy, imagination, the desire of power,
curiosity, or Heaven knows what, to stimulate, even to her own mind,
pale reflections of the luminary not yet risen,--parhelia that precede
the sun. Don't judge of Roland as you see him now, Pisistratus,--grim,
and gray, and formal: imagine a nature soaring high amongst daring
thoughts, or exuberant with the nameless poetry of youthful life, with a
frame matchless for bounding elasticity, an eye bright with haughty
fire, a heart from which noble sentiments sprang like sparks from an
anvil. Lady Ellinor had an ardent, inquisitive imagination. This bold,
fiery nature must have moved her interest. On the other hand, she had
an instructed, full, and eager mind. Am I vain if I say, now after the
lapse of so many years, that in my mind her intellect felt
companionship? When a woman loves and marries and settles, why then she
becomes a one whole, a completed being. But a girl like Ellinor has in
her many women. Various herself, all varieties please her. I do
believe that if either of us had spoken the word boldly, Lady Ellinor
would have shrunk back to her own heart, examined it, tasked it, and
given a frank and generous answer; and he who had spoken first might
have had the better chance not to receive a 'No.' But neither of us
spoke. And perhaps she was rather curious to know if she had made an
impression, than anxious to create it. It was not that she willingly