Major Sanford's house is undergoing a complete repair. The report is,
that he is soon to be married. Miss Wharton has heard, but does not
believe it. I hope for her sake it will prove true; for, at any rate, he
is about returning; and from her mamma's account of his past conduct
towards Eliza, were he to return unconnected, he would probably renew
his attentions; and though they might end in marriage, her happiness
would not be secured. She has too nice a sense of love and honor to
compound with his licentious principles. A man who has been dissolute
before marriage will very seldom be faithful afterwards.
I went into Eliza's chamber the other day, and found her with a
miniature picture in her hand. "You pretend to be a physiognomist,
Julia," said she. "What can you trace in that countenance?" I guessed
whose it was; and looking wistfully at it, replied, "I believe the
original is an artful, designing man. He looks to me like a
Chesterfieldian. Pray who is he?" "Major Sanford," said she; "and I am
afraid you have hit his character exactly. Sure I am that the appearance
of those traits in it has made my heart ache." She wept as she spoke it.
Poor girl, I wish he may never give you greater cause to weep! She is
strongly blind to the vices and imperfections of this man. Though
naturally penetrating, he has somehow or other cast a deceptious mist
over her imagination with respect to himself.
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