"I came here to-day, sir, with the intention, at which I have arrived not without long wrestling in prayer, of proposing in the Lord’s name a treaty of marriage with Mrs. Mary Collet. In this I have sought direction, as I say, for a long time before addressing her. At length, yesterday, sitting all alone, I felt a word sweetly arise in me as if I heard a voice, which said, ’Go and prevail!’ and faith springing in my heart with the word, I immediately arose and went, nothing doubting. But when I came into her presence, and found her with you, upon whom I have ofttimes apprehended that her affections were fixed; when I thought of the disadvantage at which doubtless, in the world’s eye at least, I should be thought to stand with regard to you; when I considered her breeding and education in every sort of prelatical and papistical superstition—which latter has all through been a great stumbling-block to me, and to some others of the godly to whom I have opened this matter;—when I thought of these things, I, wretched man that I am! I mistrusted the Lord’s power. I was deaf to the voice that spoke within me, and I left my message unsaid. What my sin is in this cannot be told. It may be that I have frustrated the Lord’s will and purpose with regard to her, not only as regards calling her out of that empty show and profession in which she is, but, which doubtless will seem of more force to you, of providing her with some refuge from the storm which assuredly is not far from this household. I have already, if you will believe me, done something in warding off the first advances of that storm, and think I do not deceive myself that I have power sufficient to continue to do so. I entreat you, Mr. Inglesant, to think of this, if you have not yet done so, for her sake, and not for mine." He spoke these last words in a different manner, and with an altered voice, as though they were not part of what he had originally intended to say, but had been forced from him by the spectacle his mind presented of danger to her whom it was evident he unselfishly loved. "I am not so ignorant in the world’s ways," he went on, "as not to know how absurd such an appeal to you must seem; probably it will afford amusement to your friends in after days. Nevertheless, I cannot refrain myself. I am distracted between two opinions, and as I rode away it came into my mind, that I might after all be flying away from a shadow, and that there might be no such relation between you as that which I have supposed—no other than that of a free and fair friendship; in which case I entreat you, Mr. Inglesant, though I confess I have no right nor claim upon you even for the commonest courtesy, to let me know it."