What decided me at this instant I cannot positively tell: whether it was the awkwardness of my own situation, or the grace of her ladyship’s manner: but all my prudential arrangements were forgotten, all my doubts vanished. Before I knew that the words passed my lips, I replied, “That her ladyship did me justice by such an acquittal; but that though I had no part in the contrivance, yet I felt irresistibly impelled to avail myself of the opportunity it afforded of declaring my real sentiments.” I was at her ladyship’s feet, and making very serious love, before I knew where I was. In what words my long-delayed declaration was made, I cannot recollect, but I well remember Lady Geraldine’s answer. “My lord, I assure you that you do not know what you are saying: you do not know what you are doing. This is all a mistake, as you will find half an hour hence. I will not be so cruelly vain as to suppose you serious.” “Not serious! no man ever was more serious.” “No, no--No, no, no.” I swore, of course, most fervently. “Oh! rise, rise, I beseech you, my lord, and don’t look so like a hero; though you have done an heroical action, I grant. How you ever brought yourself to it, I cannot imagine. But now, for your comfort, you are safe--Vous voilà quitte pour la peur! Do not, however, let this encourage you to venture again in the same foolish manner. I know but few, very few young ladies to whom Lord Glenthorn could offer himself with any chance or reasonable hope of being refused. So take warning: never again expect to meet with such another as my whimsical self.” “Never, never can I expect to meet with any thing resembling your charming self,” cried I. This was a new text for a lover’s rhapsody. It is not necessary, and might not be _generally_ interesting to repeat all the ridiculous things I said, even if I could remember them. Lady Geraldine listened to me, and then very calmly replied, “Granting you believe all that you are saying at this minute, which I must grant from common gratitude, and still more common vanity; nevertheless, permit me to assure you, my lord, that this is not love; it is only a fancy--only the nettle-rash, not the plague. You will not die this time. I will insure your life. So now jump out of the window as fast as you can, and unlock the door--you need not be afraid of breaking your neck--you know your life is insured. Come, take the lover’s leap, and get rid of your passion at once.” I grew angry. “Only a cloud,” said Lady Geraldine--“it will blow over.” I became more passionate--I did not know the force of my own feelings, till they met with an obstacle; they suddenly rose to a surprising height.