[The next morning, S. brought up the tea-kettle as usual; and looking
towards the tea-tray, she said, "Oh! I see my sister has forgot the
tea-pot." It was not there, sure enough; and tripping down stairs, she
came up in a minute, with the tea-pot in one hand, and the flageolet in
the other, balanced so sweetly and gracefully. It would have been
awkward to have brought up the flageolet in the tea-tray and she could
not have well gone down again on purpose to fetch it. Something,
therefore, was to be omitted as an excuse. Exquisite witch! But do I
love her the less dearly for it? I cannot.]



THE CONFESSION




H. You say you cannot love. Is there not a prior attachment in the
case? Was there any one else that you did like?

S. Yes, there was another.

H. Ah! I thought as much. Is it long ago then?

S. It is two years, Sir.

H. And has time made no alteration? Or do you still see him sometimes?

S. No, Sir! But he is one to whom I feel the sincerest affection, and
ever shall, though he is far distant.