“And you will do so?”
“I must try,—I must do so,—for it is my duty.”
“But will you,—can you?”
“Oh, if you love me, do not ask me! I ought not to say it,—perhaps I may. If it must be so, I hope I may; but I feel,—yes, my—my dear Colin,—I feel that what they demand of me is impossible. I can never banish you from my bosom,—never! No, not if they would give me the world!”
If ever the reader of this history have been in love, he or she must be perfectly well aware that a climax of feeling of the kind above described is not arrived at without involving ulterior consequences, which philosophers and grammarians have agreed to designate by the verb to kiss. It must therefore be understood, that no sooner had the young lady expressed the sentiments last recorded, than Colin, with becoming alacrity, converted that verb into a substantive or noun,—i.e, into “anything which exists, or of which we have any notion,”—by saluting her upon the cheek in very becoming and gentlemanly style. This delicate experiment had never been tried between them before; but, I am happy to be able to record that it perfectly succeeded. Declarations of eternal attachment were afterwards repeated on both sides, and vows of love made, such as the Lady Diana, who was listening from behind a cloud over their heads, hath seldom heard excelled; but which, as a man of honour, I feel bound never to reveal to the public at large. Be it sufficient for the reader to know, that Colin and Jane eventually tore themselves asunder, with the final understanding that neither would ever love another so long—(as some wonderful poet writes)—as the sun continued to shine, the rivers to flow, or the seasons to revolve. This, to be sure, was promising long enough beforehand, but then, being the usual language of love, as found in the works of eminent authors, I—an humble imitator—am in duty bound to make use of it.
The mental excitement produced by this interview, and the reflections consequent upon it, had the effect of entirely preventing Colin from taking his accustomed rest on retiring to his chamber. He, therefore, endeavoured to wile away an hour or two in reading; and for that purpose straightway established himself in an old-fashioned arm-chair by the fire-place.
Having nearly sat out his exhausted lamp, Colin retired to an unenticing couch, and passed the greater part of the night in the most anxious reflections.