It was necessary the temper of my mind should be wound up to its highest pitch, before I could approach her. I rushed up stairs, made the bolts fly, and the lock start back. Yet the moment the door opened, I hesitated—
However, I shook myself with indignation, entered, and saw her standing firmly in the middle of the apartment, ready to assert the bold defiance she had given me. The fixed resolution of her form, the evident fortitude of her soul, and the steadfast encounter of her eye, were discomfiting. Like a coward I stood I cannot tell how long, not knowing what to say, she looking full upon me, examining my heart, and putting thought to the rack. Benignant as she is, at such onsets of the soul she feels no mercy.
Self-resentment at the tame crestfallen countenance I wore at last produced an effort, and I stammered out—Madam—
Her only answer was a look—I endeavoured to meet her eye, but in vain.
I continued.—From my present manner you will perceive, madam, I am conscious of the advantage you have over me; and that my own heart does not entirely approve all I have done.
I see something of your confusion—I wish I saw more.
But neither can it forget its injuries!
What are they?
The time was when I met you with joy, addressed you with delight, and gazed on you with rapture!—Nay I gaze so still!
Poor, weak man!