My dear Friend,The next day I felt almost as sailors must do after a violent storm over-night,that has subsided towards daybreak.The morning was a dull and stupid calm,and I found she was unwell,in consequence of what had happened.In the evening I grew more uneasy,and determined on going into the country for a week or two.I gathered up the fragments of the locket of her hair,and the little bronze statue,which were strewed about the floor,kissed them,folded them up in a sheet of paper,and sent them to her,with these lines written in pencil on the outside--"Pieces of a broken heart,to be kept in remembrance of the unhappy.Farewell."No notice was taken;nor did I expect any.The following morning I requested Betsey to pack up my box for me,as I should go out of town the next day,and at the same time wrote a note to her sister to say,I should take it as a favour if she would please to accept of the enclosed copies of the Vicar of Wake field,The Man of Feeling and Nature and Art,in lieu of three volumes of my own writings,which I had given her on different occasions,in the course of our acquaintance.I was piqued,in fact,that she should have these to shew as proofs of my weakness,and as if I thought the way to win her was by plaguing her with my own performances.
She sent me word back that the books I had sent were of no use to her,and that I should have those I wished for in the afternoon;but that she could not before,as she had lent them to her sister,Mrs.M-----.I said,"very well;"but observed (laughing)to Betsey,"It's a bad rule to give and take;so,if Sarah won't have these books,you must;they are very pretty ones,I assure you."She curtsied and took them,according to the family custom.In the afternoon,when I came back to tea,I found the little girl on her knees,busy in packing up my things,and a large paper parcel on the table,which I could not at first tell what to make of.On opening it,however,I soon found what it was.It contained a number of volumes which I had given her at different times (among others,a little Prayer-Book,bound in crimson velvet,with green silk linings;she kissed it twenty times when she received it,and said it was the prettiest present in the world,and that she would shew it to her aunt,who would be proud of it)--and all these she had returned together.Her name in the title-page was cut out of them all.I doubted at the instant whether she had done this before or after I had sent for them back,and I have doubted of it since;but there is no occasion to suppose her UGLY ALL OVER WITH HYPOCRISY.Poor little thing!She has enough to answer for,as it is.I asked Betsey if she could carry a message for me,and she said "YES."
"Will you tell your sister,then,that I did not want all these books;and give my love to her,and say that I shall be obliged if she will still keep these that I have sent back,and tell her that it is only those of my own writing that I think unworthy of her."What do you think the little imp made answer?She raised herself on the other side of the table where she stood,as if inspired by the genius of the place,and said--"AND THOSEARE THE ONES THAT SHE PRIZES THE MOST!"If there were ever words spoken that could revive the dead,those were the words.Let me kiss them,and forget that my ears have heard aught else!I said,"Are you sure of that?"and she said,"Yes,quite sure."I told her,"If I could be,I should be very different from what I was."And I became so that instant,for these casual words carried assurance to my heart of her esteem--that once implied,I had proofs enough of her fondness.Oh!how I felt at that moment!Restored to love,hope,and joy,by a breath which I had caught by the merest accident,and which I might have pined in absence and mute despair for want of hearing!I did not know how to contain myself;I was childish,wanton,drunk with pleasure.
I gave Betsey a twenty-shilling note which I happened to have in my hand,and on her asking "What's this for,Sir?"I said,"It's for you.Don't you think it worth that to be made happy?You once made me very wretched by some words I heard you drop,and now you have made me as happy;and all I wish you is,when you grow up,that you may find some one to love you as well as I do your sister,and that you may love better than she does me!"I continued in this state of delirium or dotage all that day and the next,talked incessantly,laughed at every thing,and was so extravagant,nobody could tell what was the matter with me.I murmured her name;I blest her;I folded her to my heart in delicious fondness;I called her by my own name;I worshipped her:I was mad for her.I told P----I should laugh in her face,if ever she pretended not to like me again.Her mother came in and said,she hoped I should excuse Sarah's coming up."Oh,Ma'am,"I said,"I have no wish to see her;I feel her at my heart;she does not hate me after all,and I wish for nothing.
