And then will canker sorrow eat her bud,
And chase the native beauty from her cheek;
And she will look as hollow as a ghost,
And dim and meagre as an ague fit,
And so she'll die.
And such a catastrophe of the most gentle creature on earth might have
been prevented if Mr. Edward Waverley had had his eyes! Upon my word, I
cannot understand how I thought Flora so much, that is, so very much,
handsomer than Rose. She is taller indeed, and her manner more formed;
but many people think Miss Bradwardine's more natural; and she is
certainly much younger. I should think Flora is two years older than I
am. I will look at them particularly this evening.'
And with this resolution Waverley went to drink tea (as the fashion was
Sixty Years Since) at the house of a lady of quality attached to the
cause of the Chevalier, where he found, as he expected, both the ladies.
All rose as he entered, but Flora immediately resumed her place and the
conversation in which she was engaged. Rose, on the contrary, almost
imperceptibly made a little way in the crowded circle for his advancing
the corner of a chair. 'Her manner, upon the whole, is most engaging,'
said Waverley to himself.
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