And that all of us, both old and young, being ten times worse frightened than hurt by the very report,—what a want of knowledge in this branch of commerce a man betrays, whoever lets the word come out of his lips, till an hour or two, at least, after the time that his silence upon it becomes tormenting. A course of small, quiet attentions, not so pointed as to alarm,—nor so vague as to be misunderstood—with now and then a look of kindness, and little or nothing said upon it,—leaves nature for your mistress, and she fashions it to her mind.—
Then I solemnly declare, said the lady, blushing, you have been making love to me all this while.
THE REMISE.
CALAIS.
Monsieur Dessein came back to let us out of the chaise, and acquaint the lady, the count de L—, her brother, was just arrived at the hotel. Though I had infinite good will for the lady, I cannot say that I rejoiced in my heart at the event—and could not help telling her so;—for it is fatal to a proposal, Madame, said I, that I was going to make to you—
—You need not tell me what the proposal was, said she, laying her hand upon both mine, as she interrupted me.—A man my good Sir, has seldom an offer of kindness to make to a woman, but she has a presentiment of it some moments before.—
Nature arms her with it, said I, for immediate preservation.—But I think, said she, looking in my face, I had no evil to apprehend,—and, to deal frankly with you, had determined to accept it.—If I had—(she stopped a moment)—I believe your good will would have drawn a story from me, which would have made pity the only dangerous thing in the journey.
In saying this, she suffered me to kiss her hand twice, and with a look of sensibility mixed with concern, she got out of the chaise,—and bid adieu.
IN THE STREET.
CALAIS.
I never finished a twelve guinea bargain so expeditiously in my life: my time seemed heavy, upon the loss of the lady, and knowing every moment of it would be as two, till I put myself into motion,—I ordered post horses directly, and walked towards the hotel.
Lord! said I, hearing the town clock strike four, and recollecting that I had been little more than a single hour in Calais,—