I would not for the world, that the burning blushes, and the mounting raptures of that moment, should be visible.
But what encouragement is wanting?
I must be regardful of insurmountable limits.

Yet when minds are imbued with a genuine sympathy, are not words and looks superfluous?
Are not motion and touch sufficient to impart feelings such as mine?
Has he not eyed me at moments, when the pressure of his hand has thrown me into tumults, and was it possible that he mistook the impetuosities of love, for the eloquence of indignation?
But the hastening evening will decide.

Would it were come! And yet I shudder at its near approach.

An interview that must thus terminate, is surely to be wished for by me; and yet it is not without its terrors.
Would to heaven it were come and gone! I feel no reluctance, my friends to be thus explicit.

Time was, when these emotions would be hidden with immeasurable solicitude, from every human eye.