e I have to
give, and incapable of responding to the best and deepest feelings of my
inmost heart--so clearly, that even if I should see him again, and if he
should remember me and love me still (which, alas! is too little
probable, considering how he is situated, and by whom surrounded), and if
he should ask me to marry him--I am determined not to consent until I
know for certain whether my aunt's opinion of him or mine is nearest the
truth; for if mine is altogether wrong, it is not he that I love; it is a
creature of my own imagination. But I think it is not wrong--no,
no--there is a secret something--an inward instinct that assures me I am
right. There is essential goodness in him;--and what delight to unfold
it! If he has wandered, what bliss to recall him! If he is now exposed
to the baneful influence of corrupting and wicked companions, what glory
to deliver him from them! Oh! if I could but believe that Heaven has
designed me for this!

* * * * *

To-day is the first of September; but my uncle has ordered the gamekeeper
to spare the partridges till the gentlemen come. 'What gentlemen?' I
asked when I heard it. A small party he had invited to shoot. His
friend Mr. Wilmot was one, and my aunt's friend, Mr. Boarham, another.
This struck me as terrible news at the moment; but all regret and
apprehension vanished like a dream when I heard that Mr. Huntingdon was
actually to be a third! My aunt is greatly against his coming, of
course: she earnestly endeavoured to dissuade my uncle from asking him;
but he, laughing at her objections, told her it was no use talking, for
the mischief was already done: he had invited Huntingdon and his friend
Lord Lowborough before we left London, and nothing now remained but to
fix the day for their coming. So he is safe, and I am sure of seeing
him. I cannot express my joy. I find it very difficult to conceal it
from my aunt; but I don't wish to trouble her with my feelings till I
know whether I ought to indulge them or not. If I find it my absolute
duty to suppress them, they shall trouble no one but myself; and if I can
really feel myself justified in indulging this attachment, I can dare
anything, even the anger and grief of my best friend, for its
object--surely, I shall soon know. But they are not coming till about
the middle of the month.

We are to have two lady visitors also: Mr. Wilmot is to bring his niece
and her cousin Milice