Heavens and earth! had you at that moment seen the preceptress and the _pupil!_The attention of the simple Prince was riveted on Valancy’s grammar: he grew peevish at what he called our stupidity, and said we knew nothing of the verb to love, while in fact we were running through all its moods and tenses with our eyes and looks. Good God! to how many delicious sensations is the soul alive, for which there is no possible mode of expression.. Adieu.--The little post-boy is at my elbow. I observe he goes more frequently to the post than usual; and one morning I perceived Glorvina eagerly watching his return from the summit of a rock. Whence can this solicitude arise? Her father may have some correspondence on business--she can have none. LETTER XXII. TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. This creature is deep in the metaphysics of love. She is perpetually awakening ardour by restraint, and stealing enjoyment from privation. She still persists in bringing the priest with her to the drawing-desk; but it is evident she does not the less enjoy that casual absence which leaves us sometimes alone; and I am now become such an epicure in sentiment, that I scarcely regret the restraint the presence of the priest imposes; since it gives a keener zest to the transient minutes of felicity his absence bestows--even though they are enjoyed in silent confusion. For nothing can be more seducing than her looks, nothing can be more dignified than her manners. If, when we are alone, I even offer to take her hand, she grows pale, and shrinks from my touch. Yet I regret not that careless confidence which once prompted the innocent request that I would guide her hand to draw a perpendicular line. ***** “Solitude (says the Spectator) with the person beloved, even to a woman’s mind, has a pleasure beyond all the pomp and splendour in the world.” O! how my heart subscribes to a sentiment I have so often laughed at, when my ideas of pleasure were very different from what they are at present. I cannot persuade myself that three weeks have elapsed since my return hither; and still less am I willing to believe that it is necessary I should return to M-------- house. In short, the rocks which embosom the peninsula of Inis-more bound all my hopes, all my wishes; and my desires, like the _radii of a circle_, all point towards one and the same centre. This creature grows on me with boundless influence; her originality, her genius, her sensibility, her youth, and person! In short, her united charms in this profound solitude thus closely associated, is a species of witchcraft. *****