But my mind was as yet unfit to retain any serious impression. The voice of truth played over it as the breeze upon the unstable waters, moving it gently for a moment, and then passing away. My religious humour vanished with the scene by which it was excited; and even Miss Mortimer's parting whisper helped to replace it by a far different spirit. 'I can guess now,' said she, 'what carries Mr Maitland so often to Bloomsbury Square.' Before hearing this remark, I had offered to convey Maitland to town in my carriage; and now the heart which had so lately swelled with better feelings, beat with a little coquettish fluttering, when, having taken leave of my friend, I found myself seated _tête-à-tête_ with my supposed admirer. Maitland was, however, the very innocent cause of my flutterings; since for a whole mile he talked of Miss Mortimer, and nothing but Miss Mortimer; then, perceiving that I was little inclined to answer, he was silent, and left me to my reflections.
The softness of evening was beginning to mingle with the cheerfulness of day, and a fresher breeze began to lighten the sultry air. 'What an Arcadian day!' cried I. 'Pity that you and I were not lovers, to enjoy it thus alone together!'
I meant to utter this with the prettiest air of simplicity imaginable, but found it quite impossible to suppress the conscious glow that stole over my face. I was certain that Maitland coloured too, though he answered with great self-possession. 'I make no pretensions to the character of a lover,' said he; 'but you may allow me to converse with you like a friend, which will do as well.'
'Oh the very worst substitute in nature,' cried I; 'for the conversation of lovers is all complaisance; whereas I find that those who beg leave to talk like friends always mean to ask something which I do not wish to tell, or to tell something which I do not wish to hear.'
'Perhaps I may mean to do both,' said Maitland; 'for there is a question which I have often wished to ask you; and when you have answered, I may perhaps undertake the other office too. Are you aware that common report joins your name with that of Lord Frederick de Burgh?'
'Stop!' cried I; 'positively you must not be my confessor.'