I am happier than I was, because I now understand more
clearly your opinion of me. You think me
unsteady—easily swayed by the whim of the moment—easily tempted—easily put aside. With such an opinion, no wonder that—But we
shall see.—It is not by protestations that I shall endeavor to convince you I
am wronged, it is not by telling you that my affections are steady. My conduct shall speak for me—absence,
distance, time shall speak for me.—They
shall prove, that as far as you can be deserved by any body, I do deserve
you.—You are infinitely superior in merit; all that I know.—You have qualities which I had not before supposed to
exist in such a degree in any human creature.
You have some touches of the angel in you, beyond what—not merely beyond
what one sees, because one never sees any thing like it—but beyond what one
fancies might be. But still I am not
frightened. It is not by equality of
merit that you can be won. That is out
of the question. It is he who sees and
worships your merit the strongest, who loves you most devotedly, that has the
best right to a return. There I build my
confidence. By that right I do and will
deserve you; and when once convinced that my attachment is what I declare it, I
know you too well ot to entertain the warmest hopes—Yes, dearest, sweetest
Fanny—Nay—(seeing her draw back displeased) forgive me. Perhaps I have as yet no right—but by what
other name can I call you? Do you
suppose you are ever present to my imagination under any other? No, it is ‘Fanny’ that I think of all day,
and dream of all night.—You have given the name such reality of sweetness, that
nothing else can now be descriptive of you.