since I had felt hurt at being taken for a chit, a mere baby. . .
. I repeat that that night I was in a very strange frame of mind.
My heart was inclined to be tender, and there were tears standing
in my eyes. Nothing did I conceal as I told him about my
friendship for him, about my desire to love him, about my scheme
for living in sympathy with him and comforting him, and making
his life easier. In return he threw me a look of confusion
mingled with astonishment, and said nothing. Then suddenly I
began to feel terribly pained and disappointed, for I conceived
that he had failed to understand me, or even that he might be
laughing at me. Bursting into tears like a child, I sobbed, and
could not stop myself, for I had fallen into a kind of fit;
whereupon he seized my hand, kissed it, and clasped it to his
breast--saying various things, meanwhile, to comfort me, for he
was labouring under a strong emotion. Exactly what he said I do
not remember--I merely wept and laughed by turns, and blushed,
and found myself unable to speak a word for joy. Yet, for all my
agitation, I noticed that about him there still lingered an air
of constraint and uneasiness. Evidently, he was lost in wonder at
my enthusiasm and raptures--at my curiously ardent, unexpected,
consuming friendship. It may be that at first he was amazed, but
that afterwards he accepted my devotion and words of invitation
and expressions of interest with the same simple frankness as I
had offered them, and responded to them with an interest, a
friendliness, a devotion equal to my own, even as a friend or a
brother would do. How happy, how warm was the feeling in my
heart! Nothing had I concealed or repressed. No, I had bared all
to his sight, and each day would see him draw nearer to me.

Truly I could not say what we did not talk about during those