"Yes," said I, half aloud, as I once more reviewed the past, "it is but another chapter in my history in keeping with all the rest--one step has ever led me to a second, and so on to a third; what with other men have passed for mere trifles, have ever with me become serious difficulties, and the false enthusiasm with which I ever follow any object in life, blinds me for the time, and mistaking zeal for inclination, I never feel how little my heart is interested in success, till the fever of pursuit is over." These were pleasant thoughts for one about to throw himself at a pretty girl's feet, and pour out his "soul of love before her;" but that with me was the least part of it. Curran, they say, usually picked up his facts in a case from the opposite counsel's statements; I always relied for my conduct in carrying on any thing, to the chance circumstances of the moment, and trusted to my animal spirits to give me an interest in whatever for the time being engaged me. I opened the door. Miss Bingham was sitting at a table, her head leaning upon her hands--some open letters which lay before her, evidently so occupying her attention, that my approach was unheard. On my addressing her, she turned round suddenly, and became at first deep scarlet, then pale as death: while, turning to the table, she hurriedly threw her letters into a drawer, and motioned me to a place beside her. After the first brief and common-place inquiry for my health, and hopes for my speedy recovery, she became silent; and I too, primed with topics innumerable to discuss--knowing how short my time might prove before Mrs. Bingham's return--could not say a word. "I hope, Mr. Lorrequer," said she, at length, "that you have incurred no risque by leaving your room so early."