I knew, I felt even then, that there was a golden string, down in the very depths of my heart, too deep for his hand to touch.
I felt grieved and glad.

Grieved that I could not give a full response to his generous offering,--glad that I had capacities of loving, he, with all his excellences, could never fill.

I tried to tell him what I felt, to express friendship, gratitude, and esteem; but he would not hear me,--he would not let me go on.
"No, no; say nothing now," said he impetuously.

"I have been premature.
You do not know your own heart.

You do love me,--you will love me.