know that it was no transitory blossom, but rather the radiant resemblance of one, cut in an indestructible gem.  Moreover, I wished to see whether you would seek me if I shunned you —­ but you did not; you kept in the schoolroom as still as your own desk and easel; if by chance I met you, you passed me as soon, and with as little token of recognition, as was consistent with respect.  Your habitual expression in those days, Jane, was a thoughtful look; not despondent, for you were not sickly; but not buoyant, for you had little hope, and no actual pleasure.  I wondered what you thought of me, or if you ever thought of me, and resolved to find this out.

“I resumed my notice of you.  There was something glad in your glance, and genial in your manner, when you conversed:  I saw you had a social heart; it was the silent schoolroom —­ it was the tedium of your life —­ that made you mournful.  I permitted myself the delight of being kind to you; kindness stirred emotion soon:  your face became soft in expression, your tones gentle; I liked my name pronounced by your lips in a grateful happy accent.  I used to enjoy a chance meeting with you, Jane, at this time:  there was a curious hesitation in your manner:  you glanced at me with a slight trouble —­ a hovering doubt:  you did not know what my caprice might be —­ whether I was going to play the master and be stern, or the friend and be benignant.  I was now too fond of you often to simulate the first whim; and, when I stretched my hand out cordially, such bloom and light and bliss rose to your young, wistful features, I had much ado often to avoid straining you then and there to my heart.”

“Don’t talk any more of those days, sir,” I interrupted, furtively dashing away some tears from my eyes; his language was torture to me; for I knew what I must do —­ and do soon —­ and all these reminiscences, and these revelations of his feelings only made my work more difficult.

“No, Jane,” he returned:  “what necessity is there to dwell on the Past, when the Present is so much surer —­ the Future so much brighter?”

I shuddered to hear the infatuated assertion.

“You see now how the case stands —­ do you not?” he continued.  “After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love —­ I have found you.  You are my sympathy —­ my better self —­ my good angel.  I am bound to you with a strong attachment.  I think you good, gifted, lovely:  a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.