ABSTRACT
In these melancholy conferences, which happened very frequently during the last fortnight of Mrs. Trevyllian’s life, Althea had only once the courage to mention Mohun – ‘I reproach myself,’ said she, ‘continually do I reproach myself for having ever named that man. It hastened your journey to London; you came before your strength was sufficiently established, and it was my folly that induced you to do it. Perhaps, after all, it was my weakness, my vanity, which imputed to Mr. Mohun projects he never thought of.’ – ‘You have nothing on that head to regret, dearest Althea,’ replied her aunt; ‘my coming to town was not injurious to me; on the contrary, it was necessary for advice, which, though I believed it to be useless, I was yet willing for your sake to try. As to Mr. Mohun, I know nothing of him but from public fame – that indeed bespeaks him to be a man whom Althea could never approve, and to whom, whatever may be his fortune, I never could wish to see her united. From the account you gave me, and from his general character, I think it very possible that youth and beauty may have strong attractions for him, and that your father might have encouraged his, perhaps, transient expressions of admiration, in the hope of forming an alliance, which, in his eyes, was an advantageous one. But as in our conversations in London he never named Mr. Mohun, I trust you will not be troubled with his importunity: if, however, I should be mistaken, a calm and steady refusal will disengage you from the necessity of listening to him; and your father never can press you to marry against your inclination.’
