Anna St. Ives | Page 2

any hopes of dragging the cumbrous body
after its flights.
I cannot banish the hints of Sir Arthur from my busy fancy.--I must not
I ought not to practise disguise with any one, much less with my Louisa;
and I cannot but own that his questions suggested a plan of future
happiness to my mind, which if realized would be delightful. The
brother of my dear Louisa, the chosen friend of my heart, is to be at
Paris. I shall meet him there. He cannot but resemble his sister. He
cannot but be all generosity, love, expansion, mind, soul! I am
determined to have a very sincere friendship for him; nay I am in
danger of falling in love with him at first sight! Louisa knows what I
mean by falling in love. Ah, my dear friend, if he be but half equal to
you, he is indeed a matchless youth! Our souls are too intimately
related to need any nearer kindred; and yet, since marry I must, as you
emphatically tell me it will some time be my duty to do, I could almost
wish Sir Arthur's questions to have the meaning I suspect, and that it
might be to the brother of my friend.
Do not call me romantic: if romance it be, it originates in the supreme
satisfaction I have taken in contemplating the powers and beauties of
my Louisa's mind. Our acquaintance has been but short, yet our
friendship appears as if it had been eternal. Our hearts understand each
other, and speak a language which, alas, we both have found to be
unintelligible to the generality of the world.
Once more adieu. You shall hear from me again at London. Direct to
me as usual in Grosvenor Street.
Ever and ever your
A. W. ST. IVES
P.S. I am sorry to see poor Frank Henley look so dejected. He has
many good, nay I am well persuaded many great, qualities. Perhaps he

is disappointed at not being allowed to go with us; for which I know he
petitioned his father, but was refused; otherwise I could easily have
prevailed on Sir Arthur to have consented.
I am determined to take King Pepin[1] with me. It is surely the most
intelligent of all animals; the unfeathered bipeds, as the French wits call
us two-legged mortals, excepted. But no wonder it was my Louisa's gift;
and, kissing her lips, imbibed a part of her spirit. Were I to leave it
behind me, cats, and other good for nothing creatures, would teach it
again to be shy, and suspicious; and the present charming exertion of
its little faculties would decay. The development of mind, even in a
bird, has something in it highly delightful.
[Footnote 1: A goldfinch which the young lady had so named.]
Why, my Louisa, my friend, my sister, ah, why are not you with me?
Why do you not participate my pleasures, catch with me the rising
ideas, and enjoy the raptures of novelty? But I will forbear. I have
before in vain exhausted all my rhetoric. You must not, will not quit a
languishing parent; and I am obliged to approve your determination,
though I cannot but regret the consequence.

LETTER II
_Louisa Clifton to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_
Rose Bank Health, joy, and novelty attend the steps of my ever dear and
charming Anna! May the whirling of your chariot wheels bring a
succession of thoughts as exhilarating as they are rapid! May gladness
hail you through the day, and peace hush you to sleep at night! May the
hills and valleys smile upon you, as you roll over and beside them; and
may you meet festivity and fulness of content at every step!
I too have my regrets. My heart is one-half with you; nay my beloved,
my generous mamma has endeavoured to persuade me to quit her,
arguing that the inconvenience to her would be more than compensated
by the benefit accruing to myself. The dear lady, I sincerely believe,
loves you if possible better than she does me, and pleaded strenuously.

But did she not know it was impossible she should prevail? She did. If
my cares can prolong a life so precious but half an hour, is it not an age?
Do not her virtues and her wisdom communicate themselves to all
around her? Are not her resignation, her fortitude, and her cheerfulness
in pain, lessons which I might traverse kingdoms and not find an
opportunity like this of learning? And, affection out of the question,
having such high duties to perform, must I fly from such an occasion,
afflicting though it be? No! Anna St. Ives herself must not tempt me to
that. She is indeed too noble seriously to form such a wish. Answer, is
she not?