‘I find it even harder than I had supposed to leave you Fanny, now that the time has actually arrived.’ ‘I do not think that we should regret it William, after all, for it will be the source of much improvement to you no doubt, and that you know is very desirable to us all. While I regret to think you are about to leave us I also envy you the experience you necessarily gain of the world, something that books cannot teach.’ ‘You are a strange girl, Fanny.’ ‘Do you love me any the less because I speak as I feel? William, I have no secrets from you.’ ‘No, no, my dear girl, I only love thee the more, while I am still more surprised at thy brave and noble spirit, at the judgment and thought that characterises one of thy sex and tender years. By my soul thou shouldst have been a man, Fanny.’ ‘Had I been, why, I would have done just that which thou art about to do--go abroad and see the world.’ ‘And if you had a Fanny too at home whom you loved, would you go and leave her behind?’ ‘Yes, because like you I should not know how dearly she loved me--perhaps.’ William pressed her hand and paused thoughtfully for a moment, then turning to her by his side resumed: ‘Fanny!’ ‘Well--William.’ ‘Would you have me give up this proposed enterprise? Say so, dearest, and I will relinquish it at once.’ ‘Generous heart,’ said she placing her braided hands upon his shoulder first, and then laying her cheek upon them, ‘not for worlds. Though thy Fanny is over miserly in all that relates to thee, yet she would rather have thee follow thy inclination. No, no, I would have thee go.’ ‘Nay, Fanny, I knew not until now how much I loved thee,’ said William Lovell, putting his arm about her waist and imprinting a kiss upon her smooth white forehead. Fanny was not easily moved to tears, yet even she now brushed carelessly aside a single pearly drop that stole away from her deep blue eye. (Did you ever notice what depth there is to a blue eye, reader?) ‘You will often remember us here at home I know, William,’ said Fanny, and think how fervently we shall pray for your safe return’ And now the tear’s, apparently gathering fresh courage from the trembling voice of the noble girl, ventured to show themselves more boldly. ‘When I forget thee, dear Fanny, or any of the kind friends I leave behind, may Heaven forsake me.’ It was midnight when they separated, William was an honest and strictly conscientious youth; brought up after the strict code of puritanic faith, and as he was about to retire to rest, he bent his knee to Heaven and prayed long and fervently for blessings upon Fanny, his parents and all, and for guidance in his new undertaking. Then throwing himself upon his cot he was soon fast asleep.