The heart of our hero was never insensible to flattery. He could not
refrain from comparing his present with his recent situation. The
constant consideration of all around him, the affectionate cordiality of
Sir Lucius, and the unobtrusive devotion of Lady Afy, melted his soul.
These agreeable circumstances graciously whispered to him each hour that
he could scarcely be the desolate and despicable personage which lately,
in a moment of madness, he had fancied himself. He began to indulge the
satisfactory idea, that a certain person, however unparalleled in form
and mind, had perhaps acted with a little precipitation. Then his eyes
met those of Lady Aphrodite; and, full of these feelings, he exchanged a
look which reminded him of their first meeting; though now, mellowed by
gratitude, and regard, and esteem, it was perhaps even more delightful.
He was loved, and he was loved by an exquisite being, who was the object
of universal admiration. What could he desire more? Nothing but the
wilfulness of youth could have induced him for a moment to contemplate
breaking chains which had only been formed to secure his felicity.
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