Sensibility [pp. 79-87]

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.
SENSIBILITY.
"Still in tears!" said Margarette Claremont, as she
entered the parlor after a walk. "Which is it now,
my dear Alice, Werther or Madam de Stael's Co rinna?"
"Neither," answered Alice. Margarette looked over
her shoulder, and saw that the book her cousin held was
a volume of Kotzebue's plays, and that "Self-Immola tion" was the one that engrossed her attention.
"How prodigal you are of your tears, dear cousin!"
said Margarette,-and how you waste your sensibili ties on these high-wrought, and ultra-sentimental fic tions! Will not your health be impaired, and your
mind enervated by such excess of indulgence?"
"I fear no such results," said Alice,-" and should
blush at the obduracy of my heart, should it fail of
being moved when reading works in which such deep
feeling is portrayed."
"Weep as much for legitimate sorrow as you will,
Alice-even when portrayed in fictitious narrative,
but do not expend your sympathies on scenes such as
never did, and never will occur in the world." Alice
made no reply, as Mlargarette turned and ran utip stairs,
but the thought of her heart was-" I am thankful I am
not a stoic! thankful that my feelings are not con gealed."
Alice Lansdale and Margarette Claremont were both
orphan neices of the wealthy bachelor Mr. Claremont,
with whom they resided. The formner was the daughter of his only sister. Her parents died when she was
quite young, and consigned her, destitute of property,
to the care of her uncle, with whom she had now resided several years. Margarette was the daughter of
his only brother. She had been an orphan but few
months, during which period she had been domesticated
in the family of Mr. Claremont, to whom had been committed the guardianship of herself, and her ample fortune.
"Have you nearly got through with your play,
Alice?" said Margarette, as she re-entered the parlor.
Alice made no answer, as she sat with her head leaning
on one hand, her book spread on the table before her,while the other hand held a handkerchief that was ever
and anon applied to her eyes. Margarette advanced,
and leaned on the back of her chair.
"How much longer are you going to read, Alice?"
asked Margarette.
"Why can'tyou be quiet, and leave me undisturbed?"
said Alice.
"Because I have something to tell you," answered
Margarette.
"About goody Mason's lame finger, I suppose," said
Alice.
"No-about two elegant looking young men I saw
in the street an hour since,"-said Margarette.
"Who were they?" enquired Alice, without raising
her eyes from her book.
"I do not know,-but from your description, I conjectured them to be your cousin Hubert and the Black
Prince, as you call him."
"WVhy did not you tell me this before?" said Alice,
springing on her feet. They will be here immediately;
cousin Hubert at least,-and here I am, looking like
a fright, with eyes as red as a toper's! Why could you
not have told me when you first came in?"
"1 had been talking with Susan Hall, and forgot it,"
said Margarette. "And after all, perhaps it is not
them."
" O0, I know it is!-they were expected very soon.
But tell me how the one you took to be the Black
Prince looked, and I shall know at once if it was him."
"Tall-yet hardly as tall as his companion-with
black hair, black eyes, and an acre of black whiskers;
and-pardon me-a dash of impudence in his expres sion-at least I thought so, as I passed him."
" 0, it must be him," said Alice, "though if it be,
the latter part of your description is only your own
imagination. But why do I linger here, when I must
try to make myself look decent to see them? for cousin
Hubert, at least, will come,"-and she left the room
with a sigh.
Scarcely half an lour had passed ere Alice was
summoned, according to her expectations, to meet her
cousin, and Mr. Gordon, the Black Prince.
The young men made a long call,-for Alice had
much to ask them of what they had seen and learned,
during their absence; and they had much that was inte resting to communicate. They had scarcely closed the
door behind them, after taking leave, ere Alice ex claimed "Is he not a divine creature, cousin Margarette?"
" Which of them?" asked Margarette.
"Whichl! you stupid creature!-as if you knew not
which I meant!-Butwlhich of themdo you like best?"
"I was most pleased with your cousin's conversa tion," Margarette replied.
"Why?" asked Alice. "I am sure Gordon con verses elegantly."
"He has words enough at command," said Marga rette,-"but a scarcity of ideas; and those he has are
not weighty. While listening to him I could not help
thinking it was like dressing a little four-penny doll, in
a large robe of silver tissue. Mlr. Montague's conver sation was really entertaining and instructive."
"I expected you to be severe, of course," said Alice,
"yet I think you can find no fault with his nianners."
"He is quite at his ease, and appears a gentleman,
certainly," said Margarette, "yet his manners did not
please me. There was too much show-he was too
easy-has too much manner; and, if I may judge from
one interview, he is not at all wanting in self-complacency."
"Cousin Hubert's quiet way suited your singular
taste better, I dare say," said Alice.
"It certainly did-for he did not appear to be thinking of himself. His manners to-day were truly polished
and refined; and if they arise fi-om his heart, as I hope
they did, I should judge very favorably of the man."
"I suppose you think him best looking, too!" said
Alice-" best dressed and all!"
"In person they are both elegant young men," said
Margarette, "but Mr. Montague's dress certainlysuited
me best,-as I doubt whether to be comfortable is not
his first object in the choice of his apparel. As for Mr.
Gordon, he must make dress a study. You see, Alice
as I had nothing to do but look and listen, I could learn
a good deal of them in the hour and a half that they
were here."
"Well, as you studied them, do let me know what
you think of their faces*"
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