"I have your favorite here," she remarked, during the evening,
lifting a copy of Wordsworth from the centre table.
"Ah, indeed! so you have. Do you ever look into him, Miss Fenton?"
"O yes. I did not know what a treasure was hid in this volume,
until, from hearing your admiration of Wordsworth, I procured and
read it with delighted interest."
"I am glad that you are not disappointed. If you have a taste for
his peculiar style of thinking and writing, you have in that volume
an inexhaustible source of pleasure."
"I have discovered that, Mr. Clarence, and must thank you for the
delight I have received, and I hope I shall continue to receive."
Nearly two hours were spent by the young man in the company of Miss
Fenton, when he went away, more prepossessed in her favor than he
had yet been. She had played her part to admiration. The truth was,
Wordsworth, except in a few pieces, she had voted a dull book. By
tasking herself, she had mastered some passages, to which she
referred during the evening, and thus obtained credit for being far
more familiar with the poet of nature than she ever was or ever
would be. She went upon the principle of making a sensation, and
thus carrying hearts, or the heart she wished to assault, by storm.
"I believe that I really love that girl," Henry Clarence said, on
the evening before the party at Mrs.
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