"It cannot be more ardent than it is already."

"Do you know how grievously you make me suffer?"

"Alas! I suffer too; but do not reproach me; let us love each other
still."

This dialogue is not the hundredth part of what actually passed between
us till dinner-time. The mother came in, and finding me seated at the
foot of the daughter's bed, laughed, and asked me why I kept her in bed.
I answered with perfect coolness that we had been so interested in our
conversation that we had not noticed the flight of time.

I went to dress, and as I thought over the extraordinary change which had
taken place in Sara I resolved that it should not last for long. We dined
together gaily, and Sara and I behaved in all respects like two lovers.
In the evening I took them to the Italian Opera, coming home to an
excellent supper.

The next morning I passed in the city, having accounts to settle with my
bankers. I got some letters of exchange on Geneva, and said farewell to
the worthy Mr. Bosanquet. In the afternoon I got a coach for Madame
M---- F---- to pay some farewells calls, and I went to say good-bye to my
daughter at school. The dear little girl burst into tears, saying that
she would be lost without me, and begging me not to forget her. I was
deeply moved. Sophie begged me to go and see her mother before I left
England, and I decided on doing so.

At supper we talked over our journey, and M. M---- F---- agreed with me
that it would be better to go by Dunkirk than Ostend. He had very little