I never was happy but for two
poor hours that I enjoyed your smiles, and, drinking in the poison of your
charms, I forgot myself. The time too soon arrived for bitter
recollection. My mistress calls, the mistress of my fate. I must be
gone--Farewel--for ever."
Saying this, he heaved a sigh that seemed almost to tear his breast
asunder, and with the utmost apparent violence he tore himself away, and
rushed along the path with incredible velocity.
Delia was now alone. But instead, as she had flattered herself of having
her doubts resolved, she was more uncertain, more perplexed than ever.
"What" cried she, "can all this mean? How strange, and how inexplicable!
Is it a real person that I have seen, or is it a vision that mocks my
fancy? Am I loved, or am I hated? Oh, foolish question! Oh, fond illusion!
Are we not parted for ever! Is he not gone to seek the mistress of his
soul! Alas, he views me not, but with that general complacency, which
youth, and the small pretensions I have to beauty are calculated to
excite! He had nothing to relate that concerned myself, he merely intended
to make me the confidante of his passion for another. Too surely he is
unhappy. His heart seemed ready to burst with sorrow. Probably in this
situation there is no greater or more immediate relief, than to disclose
the subject of our distress, and to receive into our bosom the sympathetic
tear of a simple and a generous heart.
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