He eagerly entreated me to explain myself.
'I will not attempt to deceive you—I should accuse myself, were I to preserve any sentiment, however delicate its nature, that might tend to remove your present illusion. It is, I confess, with extreme reluctance—with real pain'—I trembled—my voice faultered, and I felt my colour vary—'that I constrain myself to acknowledge a hopeless, an extravagant'—I stopped, unable to proceed.
Fire flashed from his eyes, he started from his seat, and took two or three hasty strides across the room.
'I understand you, but too well—Augustus Harley shall dispute with me a prize'—
'Stop, Sir, be not unjust—make not an ungenerous return to the confidence I have reposed in you. Respect the violence which, on your account, I have done to my own feelings. I own, that I have not been able to defend my heart against the accomplishments and high qualities of Mr Harley—I respected his virtues and attainments, and, by a too easy transition—at length—loved his person. But my tenderness is a secret to all the world but yourself—It has not met with'—a burning blush suffused my cheek—'It has little hope of meeting, a return. To your honor I have confided this cherished secret—dare you betray my confidence? I know, you dare not!'
He seemed affected—his mind appeared torn by a variety of conflicting emotions, that struggled for victory—he walked towards me, and again to the door, several times. I approached him—I gave him my hand—
'Adieu, Montague,' said I, in a softened accent—'Be assured of my sympathy—of my esteem—of my best wishes! When you can meet me with calmness, I shall rejoice to see you—as a friend. Amidst some excesses, I perceive the seeds of real worth in your character, cultivate them, they may yield a noble harvest. I shall not be forgetful of the distinction you have shewn me, when almost a deserted orphan—Once again—farewel, my friend, and—may God bless you!'
I precipitately withdrew my hand from his, and rushed out of the room. I retired to my chamber, and it was some hours before my spirits became sufficiently composed to allow me to rejoin my friends. On meeting them, Mrs Harley mentioned, with some surprize, the abrupt departure of Montague, who had quitted the house, without taking leave of its owners, by whom he had been so politely received.
'He is a fine young man,' added she, 'but appears to be very eccentric.'
Augustus was silent, but fixed his penetrating eyes on my face, with an expression that covered me with confusion.