'Let me go,' cried she, eager to stop him; 'I beseech you, Sir Sedley!'
'All beauteous Camilla!' said he, retreating yet still so as to intercept her passage; 'I am bound to submit; but when may I see you again?'
'At any time,' replied she hastily; 'only let me pass now!'
'At any time! adorable Camilla! be it then to-night! be it this evening!... be it at noon!... be it....'
'No, no, no, no!' cried she, panting with shame and alarm; 'I do not mean at any time! I spoke without thought ... I mean....'
'Speak so ever and anon,' cried he, 'if thought is my enemy! This evening then....'
He stopt, as if irresolute how to finish his phrase, but soon added: 'Adieu, till this evening, adieu!' and opened the door for her to pass.
Triumph sat in his eye; exultation spoke in every feature; yet his voice betrayed constraint, and seemed checked, as if from fear of entrusting it with his sentiments. The fear, however, was palpably not of diffidence with respect to Camilla, but of indecision with regard to himself.
Camilla, almost sinking with shame now hung back, from a dread of leaving him in this dangerous delusion. She sat down, and in a faltering voice, said: 'Sir Sedley! hear me, I beg!...'
'Hear you?' cried he, gallantly casting himself at her feet; 'yes! from the fervid rays of the sun, to the mild lustre of the moon!... from....'