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Dearest Claudien! kill me not with that word and that look! It was to conceal my connection with thee, that I have of late received the gallantries of Hartman with more than usual graciousness; but it was to deceive the world rather than himself. Fool that I was!

Yes, it was foolish.

But though I might have guessed that his inordinate vanity would construe my behaviour into downright love of his fine form and mental endowments, I never imagined he would feel more pain in the disappointment than a little wounded vanity might inflict, nor am I sure that he really feels more deeply.

I fear thou dost him wrong. I pity him from my heart; and were it possible for me to chide what is so dear, I should inflict upon thee, at this moment, words of grave rebuke.

Nay, not now, dear Claudien! reserve them till thy return, for then I shall be so happy that they will sound in my ear like harmony. I cannot bear them now. (Weeping.)