The String of Pearls (1850), p. 342

Yes, Arabella Wilmot is in love with Colonel Jeffery; and small blame to her, as they say in Ireland, for is he not a gentleman in the true acceptation of the term? Not a manufactured gentleman, but one of nature's gentlemen.
You will have promised, my dear what's-your-name, that Arabella, to herself even, has hardly confessed her feelings; but still they are creeping upon her most insidiously as such feelings somehow or other will and do creep.
To be sure, if any one were to stop her in the street or any where else to say. "Arabella, you are in love with Colonel Jeffery," she would say—" No, no,
no!" many times over.
But yet it is true.


"You read it in her glistening eyes,
And thus alone should love be read :
She says it in her gentle sighs,
And thus alone should love be said."

After this, who will be hardy enough, my dear, to dispute the fact with you and I?
And now we will watch her, ay, that we will, and see how she will behave herself under such trying circumstances.
Colonel Jeffery advanced, and as in duty and gallantry called upon, he, after slightly bowing to the gentlemen, spoke to Arabella.
"This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Wilmot," he said. "I hope I see you well. Here is a seat close at hand. May I have the pleasure of conducting you to it?"
"Johanna is—is—is—" stammered Arabella.
"Well, I hope," interposed the colonel.
"Oh, no—no—that is, yes."
The colonel looked puzzled. He was not a conjurer, and so might look puzzled, if he looked like any ordinary man, who hears any one say no, and yes
in the same breath, wnthont any injury to his reputation.
"Mr. Ben," said Sir Richard Blunt, "I have something for your private ear, if you will just step on with me."
"My private ear?" said Ben with a confused look, as if he would have liked to add, "which is that?"
"Yes. This way if you please."
Ben walked on with the magistrate, and Colonel Jeffery was alone with Arabella Wilmot. Yes, alone with the one person who insensibly had crept into her affections Alas! Is the pure love of that young creature scattered to the winds? Is she one of those who drag about them in this world the heavy chain of unrequited affection ? We shall see. Arabella had permitted the colonel to hand her to one of the garden-seats near at hand. How could she prevent him? If he had chosen instead to hand her into the river it would have been just the same, and she would have gone. He led her by that wreath of flowers which in old Arcadia was first linked by Cupid, and which, in all time since, has wound itself around the hearts of all the boy-god's victims.
"Miss Wilmot," said the colonel, and now his voice faltered a little, "I have much wished to see you."
"Very fine, indeed," said Arrabella. "You said something about the weather, did you not?"
"Not exactly," he said; "I had much wished to see you."
"Me?"
"Yes, and to begin at the beginning, you know I—I—loved Johanna Oakley. Yes, I loved her."
"Yes—yes."
"I loved her for her beauty, and for the gentle and the chivalrous devotion of her character, you understand. I loved her for the very tears she shed for another, and for the very constancy with which she clung to the