She paused.  I besought her to proceed.

Do you suppose, Sir, and turned away her sweet face as we walked,—­Do you suppose that I had not thought of laying down a plan to govern myself by, when I found myself so unhappily over-reached and cheated, as I may say, out of myself—­When I found, that I could not be, and do, what I wished to be, and to do, do you imagine that I had not cast about, what was the next proper course to take?—­And do you believe that this next course has not caused me some pain to be obliged to—­

There again she stopt.

But let us break off discourse, resumed she.  The subject grows too—­She sighed—­Let us break off discourse—­I will go in—­I will prepare for church—­[The devil! thought I.] Well, as I can appear in those every-day-worn clothes—­looking upon herself—­I will go to church.

She then turned from me to go into the house.

Bless me, my beloved creature, bless me with the continuance of this affecting conversation.—­Remorse has seized my heart!—­I have been excessively wrong—­give me farther cause to curse my heedless folly, by the continuance of this calm but soul-penetrating conversation.

No, no, Mr. Lovelace:  I have said too much.  Impatience begins to break in upon me.  If you can excuse me to the ladies, it will be better for my mind’s sake, and for your credit’s sake, that I do not see them.  Call me to them over-nice, petulant, prudish—­what you please call me to them.  Nobody but Miss Howe, to whom, next to the Almighty, and my own mother, I wish to stand acquitted of wilful error, shall know the whole of what has passed.  Be happy, as you may!—­Deserve to be happy, and happy you will be, in your own reflection at least, were you to be ever so unhappy in other respects.  For myself, if I ever shall be enabled, on due reflection, to look back upon my own conduct, without the great reproach of having wilfully, and against the light of my own judgment, erred, I shall be more happy than if I had all that the world accounts desirable.

The noble creature proceeded; for I could not speak.

This self-acquittal, when spirits are lent me to dispel the darkness which at present too often over-clouds my mind, will, I hope, make me superior to all the calamities that can befal me.

Her whole person was informed by her sentiments.  She seemed to be taller than before.  How the God within her exalted her, not only above me, but above herself!

Divine creature! (as I thought her,) I called her.  I acknowledged the superiority of her mind; and was proceeding—­but she interrupted me—­All human excellence, said she, is comparative only.  My mind, I believe, is indeed superior to your’s, debased as your’s is by evil habits:  but I had not known it to be so, if you had not taken pains to convince me of the inferiority of your’s.

How great, how sublimely great, this creature!—­By my soul I cannot forgive her for her virtues!  There is no bearing the consciousness of the infinite inferiority she charged me with.—­But why will she break from me, when good resolutions are taking place?  The red-hot iron she refuses to strike—­O why will she suffer the yielding wax to harden?