Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/40

30 truly affecting. I caught him to my bosom, I wept, I even sobbed as I held him to my heart, and unable to bear his superiority, I exclaimed: No, my noble-hearted friend, never will I accept such a sacrifice: we are yet to learn for which of us her heavenly Father has designed this treasure. Let us both, as occasion may occur, indulge ourselves in her society, and should the event prove that you are the highly favoured mortal, I hope, and believe, I shall willingly resign her, and content myself with listening to her heavenly accents. And, truth to say, she possessed a most enchanting voice; a most fascinating manner, admirably calculated to gain hearts, especially young hearts, simple, and softened by Religion; and, what was above all bewitching, she sang the most divine of Mr. Wesley's hymns in a most divinely impressive manner. While, however, we were mutually acceding to this wise plan for the disposal of Miss Dupee, it never once entered into our heads, that she very possibly was not designed for either of us. Perhaps few youthful bosoms have ever endured a greater conflict between love, and friendship: We experienced both in no common degree, but friendship in both our hearts became triumphant. This amiable woman continued, for some time, decidedly the object of our deliberate election, but I had, however, reason to believe my attachment the strongest, for it deprived me of both rest, and appetite. For the first time, I began to tag rhymes: I have sat by the hour together upon an eminence, whence I could behold her habitation, poetizing, and sighing, as if my heart would break; I had some reason to believe she had discovered, and was diverted with my passion; indeed she must have laughed at me, if she had not despised me. After a long struggle between my hopes, and my fears, I ventured to address a letter to Miss Dupee, filled with the warmest professions of eternal affection, and conjuring her, at least to grant me leave to hope. I dared not entrust a domestic with this letter, lest it should be discovered by my father, for the dread of meeting a refusal from my mistress was not more terrible to my imagination, than that my father should obtain knowledge of my temerity. One night, therefore, returning from the society, with fear, and trembling, I put my letter into her hand, humbly requesting she would honour it with a secret perusal. She took it, and, gypsey as she was, absolutely pressed my hand, which pressure almost suffocated me with transport; I parted from her at the door, and from that moment neither slept, nor eat, till I was cured, radically cured. It was upon a Wednesday night, I delivered my letter: what did I not suffer from the torture of