Your Pardon, Walter, that I should pass your lodgings as I drove out of town without stopping to say a single how-do-ye. But, let pity and humanity plead their cause with ever so much eloquence, yet the prejudices of custom are so potent that a man becomes ashamed if his eyes give their tribute to the feelings of his heart. Truly, Walter, I should have blushed to-day at my insensibility if I had not wept yesterday. Yet, for weeping, I coward-like drew up the blinds of my chaise, and, to hide myself from the finger of scorn, bade the driver carry me with all expedition to my aunt's retreat at Hayley lodge. I must suppose, for your own sake, Boyer, that when you wrote me your hasty letter to the farm, you were uninformed of Montgomery's marriage with Mrs. Ashburn. Haste could not excuse such an over-sight, as little as you knew of Miss Valmont. No! no! it was not possible you could be informed of it and not send me the tidings. I am an ass, I have not the common discernment of a school boy, or I had never talked of accommodating her condition by tardy travelling when I was bearing Miss Valmont to her beloved though perfidious Clement. Speed, flying speed, was alone necessary to her safety. I spared neither money nor command, yet to her foundered. Not that she complained. Never! She even thanked my zeal, when her gasping sensations would give way to utterance. But I saw it, Walter, in her eyes. I saw the speed of her affections in the convulsive swells of her bosom. Do not call me ridiculous, but upon my soul there were moments of the journey that while gazing on her I was on the point of grasping her in my arms, lest her very form should dissolve into feeling and vanish from my protection. Once I refused to proceed unless she would take refreshment. She did not plead; and taking from me a cup of chocolate, her shaking hand raised it half way to her lips then returned it untasted to the table. I drew a chair, and deliberately seated myself, as if resolved to put my threat in practice. After a short silence, 'Sir,' said she, 'have you ever known what it is to love?' I was looking on the fire; and, recollecting some odd sensations that had occasionally crept to my heart, was about to reply in the affirmative, but turning my head and meeting the full gaze of her eloquent eye, an honest and prompt reply sprang to my lips--'By my soul and salvation, never, Madam!--Griffiths, see the horses instantly put to the chaise. We alight no more, till we alight in London.'