usual. The instant when Michael put his hand under my foot as I
sprang into the saddle, his touch flew all over me like a flame.
I knew who had made a new woman of me from that moment.

As to describing the first sense of confusion that overwhelmed
me, even if I were a practiced writer I should be incapable of
doing it. I pulled down my veil, and rode on in a sort of trance.
Fortunately for me, our house looked on the park, and I had only
to cross the road. Otherwise I should have met with some accident
if I had ridden through the streets. To this day, I don't know
where I rode. The horse went his own way quietly--and the groom
followed me.

The groom! Is there any human creature so free from the hateful
and anti-Christian pride of rank as a woman who loves with all
her heart and soul, for the first time in her life? I only tell
the truth (in however unfavorable a light it may place me) when I
declare that my confusion was entirely due to the discovery that
I was in love. I was not ashamed of myself for being in love with
the groom. I had given my heart to the man. What did the accident
of his position matter? Put money into his pocket and a title
before his name--by another accident: in speech, manners, and
attainments, he would he a gentleman worthy of his wealth and
worthy of his rank.

Even the natural dread of what my relations and friends might
say, if they discovered my secret, seemed to be a sensation so
unworthy of me and of him, that I looked round, and called to him
to speak to me, and asked him questions about himself which kept
him riding nearly side by side with me. Ah, how I enjoyed the