neighbours. Between one of these and my brother, there quickly
grew the most affectionate intimacy. Her name was Catharine
Pleyel. She was rich, beautiful, and contrived to blend the
most bewitching softness with the most exuberant vivacity. The
tie by which my brother and she were united, seemed to add force
to the love which I bore her, and which was amply returned.
Between her and myself there was every circumstance tending to
produce and foster friendship. Our sex and age were the same.
We lived within sight of each other's abode. Our tempers were
remarkably congenial, and the superintendants of our education
not only prescribed to us the same pursuits, but allowed us to
cultivate them together.

Every day added strength to the triple bonds that united us.
We gradually withdrew ourselves from the society of others, and
found every moment irksome that was not devoted to each other.
My brother's advance in age made no change in our situation. It
was determined that his profession should be agriculture. His
fortune exempted him from the necessity of personal labour. The
task to be performed by him was nothing more than
superintendance. The skill that was demanded by this was merely
theoretical, and was furnished by casual inspection, or by
closet study. The attention that was paid to this subject did
not seclude him for any long time from us, on whom time had no
other effect than to augment our impatience in the absence of
each other and of him. Our tasks, our walks, our music, were
seldom performed but in each other's company.

It was easy to see that Catharine and my brother were born
for each other. The passion which they mutually entertained