Part 2
“Shall I tell you how you may gain it, Matilda?” asked a voice behind her, that made her start; and looking round, she saw an old lady--a distant relative of the family, who was, at the time, on a visit to Mrs. Hamilton, and, having heard Matilda come in, and concluding that she was much fatigued, had come to offer her assistance in undressing, and had by that means become an unintentional listener to the young girl’s soliloquy. Never was offer of assistance more à propos; for Matilda’s proud spirit was humbled, and in a right frame to receive admonition. Throwing herself therefore, on the neck of her friend, she exclaimed, “Yes, dear Aunt, advise, reprove, and assist me, for I am wretched.”
“Reproof, my child,” said the old lady, as she pressed the now weeping girl to her bosom, “you have little need of, for I understand the kind of an evening you have spent, and am persuaded you are already sufficiently punished. Neither do you need any other assistance than that of your own natural good sense. Let me therefore advise you to call it into action, and accustom yourself to remember that the advantages of birth and fortune are altogether adventitious, and though they may obtain for you a cold and distant respect, they never will gain the love of a single being. But seek to learn the law of love, and above all, accustom yourself to practise that divine rule of doing as you would be done unto, and you will soon find yourself surrounded by affectionate hearts, and feel that peace within, which no external circumstances can supply.”
With many tears, Matilda promised to lay this gentle admonition to heart, and after a little more conversation she laid her head upon her pillow, with a mind composed and tranquillized by good resolutions, in regard to her future conduct.
“Did you ever see so altered a girl as Matilda Hamilton is?” said Edmund Wharton to his friend Lisle, one day, about a year after Isabella Ingersol’s ball. “I declare she is grown quite handsome.”
“She always was that,” returned the other, “I never saw a finer complexion, nor a more regular set of features, in my life.”
“That is true, and yet, heretofore, I never could see any beauty in her: her haughty, supercilious manners destroyed it all. But she is become so gentle and amiable, and treats every one with such kind courtesy, that it actually makes her look beautiful; and I now take as much pains to meet as I used to take to avoid her.”
[Illustration: _FINIS_]
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.