I will have you know, Sir, that the first sentiment provoked in my bosom by your Epistle was one of Humiliation and Chagrin. "Better die," I cried, "a thousand deaths, than have lived to forget that Modesty which is the ornament of my Sex!" But I protest that after diligently examining my Conscience and ransacking my Memory, I cannot recall a single occasion in our casual intercourse when I have so far fallen from my duty as to offer you encouragement or to invite your present Advances. Nevertheless, Sir, I am not blind to my woman’s frailty; and, at the risk of forfeiting your Esteem, I will to-day indulge a boldness which I have never practised in the past, and will confess (shameless that I am!) that your conversation and person have not been distasteful to me. I perceive that my weakness has discovered to you the secret which I fondly hoped to conceal; and that I have succeeded but ill in my attempts to dissemble my Partiality from eyes and an Understanding, alas! too well accustomed to the sensibility of the female Heart. You entreat me to despatch my answer by the hand of your courier, or, at the latest, by to-morrow’s coach; and you affirm, Sir, that in the meantime you are consumed by the ardours of Impatience, and that you will partake neither refreshment nor rest. Far be it from me to prolong Sufferings which do me so much Honour, especially when they are endured by one for whom I have Regard and Esteem. But, Sir, I will have you bear with me while I remind you that this is a Business too weighty for haste; and that your present protestations of undying Fidelity and Adoration will be dearly purchased if I must endure in the future the bitter frosts of Indifference or the icy blasts of Reproach and Scorn. I beseech you, Sir, to temper Passion with Patience, and not to increase by your Importunity the insupportable Distraction of happy, thrice unhappy SUSAN. "Goodness gracious, Susan!" I said, after I had got to the end of this amazing document; "in the name of everything, what on earth is all this?" "It is my answer to his Lordship, Miss," Susan answered penitently. "But, Susan, I don’t understand. What is this about a courier and to-morrow’s coach? And what do you mean by saying that his person and conversation are not distasteful to you? Didn’t you assure me this morning that you’d never even seen him? Yet here you are writing to him about ’occasions in your casual intercourse.’ Susan, I don’t like to say it, but I’m very much afraid that----" I pulled myself up. What I had been on the point of saying was that Susan had grossly deceived me, and that her case confirmed all I had ever heard as to the deepness of still waters and the duplicity that invariably underlies an appearance of baby innocence. But I remembered just in time that, with all the duplicity in the world to help her, the letter she had shown me would still be beyond Susan’s powers. So I screwed a new tail to my unfinished speech and said: