Elizabeth Inchbald

“ You are beautiful, Miss Wildenhaim.—Upon my honour, I think so. I have travelled, and seen much of the world, and yet I can positively admire you.
Amelia.
I am sorry I have not seen the world.
Count.
Wherefore?
Amelia.
Because I might then, perhaps, admire you.
Count.
True;—for I am an epitome of the world. In my travels I learnt delicacy in Italy—hauteur, in Spain—in France, enterprize—in Russia, prudence—in England, sicerity—in Scotland, frugality—and in the wilds of America, I learnt love.
Amelia.
Is there any country where love is taught? ”

“ Miss Woodley, to whom she repeated all that had passed between herself, her guardian, and Sandford, took this moment, in the agitation of her spirits, to alarm her still more by prophetic insinuations; and at length represented to her here, for the first time, the necessity, "That Mr. Dorriforth and she no longer should remain under the same roof." This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and clinging to life, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers, and by promises. Her friend loved her too sincerely to be prevailed upon. ”

“ Anhalt.
I conjure you not to think of exposing yourself and me to his resentment.
Amelia.
It is my father’s will that I should marry—It is my father’s wish to see me happy—If then you love me as you say, I will marry; and will be happy—but only with you.—I will tell him this.—At first he will start; then grow angry; then be in a passion—In his passion he will call me “undutiful:” but he will soon recollect himself, and resume his usual smiles, saying “Well, well, if he love you, and you love him, in the name of heaven, let it be.” ”

“ And Sandford, but not Lord Elmwood, looked at Miss Milner when he spoke. Her knife and fork gave a sudden spring in her hand, but no other emotion witnessed what she felt.
"Aye, Elmwood," cried another gentleman at table, "you'll bring home, I am afraid, a foreign wife, and that I shan't forgive."
"It is his errand abroad, I make no doubt," said another visitor.
Before he could return an answer, Sandford cried, "And what objection to a foreigner for a wife? do not crowned heads all marry foreigners? and who happier in the married state than some kings?" ”

“ Baron.
The whole castle smells of his perfumery. Go, call my daughter hither. [Exit Gentleman.] And am I after all to have an ape for a son-in-law? No, I shall not be in a hurry—I love my daughter too well. We must be better acquainted before I give her to him. I shall not sacrifice my Amelia to the will of others, as I myself was sacrificed. The poor girl might, in thoughtlesshess, say yes, and afterwards be miserable. What a pity she is not a boy! The name of Wildenhaim will die with me. My fine estates, my good peasants, all will fall into the hands of strangers. ”

“ But the natural vivacity, the gaiety which report had given to Miss Milner, were softened by her recent sorrow to a meek sadness--and that haughty display of charms, imputed to her manners, was changed to a pensive demeanor. The instant Dorriforth was introduced to her by Miss Woodley as her "Guardian, and her deceased father's most beloved friend," she burst into tears, knelt down to him for a moment, and promised ever to obey him as her father. He had his handkerchief to his face at the time, or she would have beheld the agitation--the remotest sensations of his heart. ”

“ Baron Wildenhaim.
[The Baron’s emotion expresses the sense of amazement, guilt, shame, and horror.]
Frederic.
In this house did you rob my mother of her honour; and in this house I am a sacrifice for the crime. I am your prisoner—I will not be free—I am a robber—I give myself up.—You shall deliver me into the hands of justice—You shall accompany me to the spot of public execution. You shall hear in vain the chaplain’s consolation and injunctions. You shall find how I, in despair, will, to the last moment, call for retribution on my father. ”

“ Sandford returned to Elmwood House, but with his spirits depressed, and his heart overcharged with sorrow. He had seen Lady Matilda, the object of his visit, but he had beheld her considerably altered in her looks and in her health; she was become very thin, and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her cheeks, her whole complexion was of a deadly pale--her countenance no longer expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy--she shed no tears, but was all sadness. ”

“ Baron.
I know, my dear Amelia, I can repay you for the loss of Count Cassel; but what return can I make to you for the loss of half your fortune?
Amelia.
My brother’s love will be ample recompense.
Baron.
I will reward you better. Mr. Anhalt, the battle I have just fought, I owe to myself: the victory I gained, I owe to you. A man of your principles, at once a teacher and an example of virtue, exalts his rank in life to a level with the noblest family—and I shall be proud to receive you as my son.
Anhalt [falling on his knees, and taking the Baron’s hand] . ”

“ This apprehension of offending, without one hope of pleasing, had the most awkward effect upon the manners of the worthy Baronet; and his endeavours to insinuate himself into the affections of the woman he loved, merely by not giving her offence either in speaking to her or looking at her, formed a character so whimsical, that it frequently forced a smile from Miss Milner, though his very name had often power to throw a gloom over her face: she looked upon him as the cause of her being hurried to the election of a lover, before her own mind could well direct her where to fix. ”

“ Amelia.
Oh! my good butler, I am not in a humour to listen to the muses, and your lyre.
Butler.
There has never been a birth-day, nor wedding-day, nor christening-day, celebrated in your family, in which I have not joined with the muses in full chorus.—In forty-six years, three hundred and ninety-seven congratulations on different occasions have dropped from my pen. To-day, the three hundred and ninety-eighth is coming forth;—for heaven has protected our noble master, who has been in great danger. ”

“ Miss Milner, taking Miss Woodley with her, went directly to her own apartment, and there exclaimed in rapture,
"He is mine--he loves me--and he is mine for ever."
Miss Woodley congratulated her upon believing so, but confessed she herself "Had her fears."
"What fears?" cried Miss Milner: "don't you perceive that he loves me?"
"I do," said Miss Woodley, "but that I always believed; and, I think, if he loves you now, he has yet the good sense to know that he has reason to hate you."
"What has good sense to do with love?" ”