to
proceed, I returned. When I entered the parlour, Susannah Temple was
resting her face in her hands and weeping. The opening of the door made
her start up; she perceived that it was I, and she turned away. "I beg
your pardon, I left the newspaper," said I, stammering. I was about to
throw myself at her feet, declare my sincere affection, and give up all
idea of finding my father until we were married, when she, without
saying a word, passed quickly by me, and hastened out of the room. "She
loves me, then," thought I; "thank God:--I will not go yet, I will speak
to her first." I sat down, quite overpowered with contending feelings.
The paper was in my hand, the paragraph was again read; I thought but of
my father, and I left the house.

In half an hour I had shaken hands with Timothy and quitted the town of
Reading. How I arrived in London, that is to say, what passed, or what
we passed, I know not: my mind was in such a state of excitement. I
hardly know how to express the state that I was in. It was a sort of
mental whirling which blinded me--round and round--from my father and
the expected meeting, then to Susannah, my departure, and her tears--
castle building of every description. After the coach stopped, there I
remained fixed on the top of it, not aware that we were in London, until
the coachman asked me whether the spirit did not move me to get down. I
recollected myself, and calling a hackney-coach, gave orders to be
driven to the Piazza, Covent Garden.

"Piazza, Common Garden," said the waterman; "why that ban't an 'otel for
the like o' you, master. They'll torment you to death, them young
chaps."

I had forgotten that I was dressed as a Quaker. "Tell the coachman to
stop at the first cloth warehouse where they have ready-made cloaks,"
said I. The man did so; I went out and purchased a roquelaure, which
enveloped my whole person. I then stopped at a hatter's, and purchased
a hat according to the mode. "Now drive to the Piazza," said I,
entering the coach. I know not why, but I was resolved to go to that
hotel. It was the one I had stayed at when I first arrived in London,
and I wished to see it again. When the hackney-coach stopped, I asked
the waiter who came out whether he had apartments, and answering me in
the affirmative, I followed him, and was shown into the same rooms I had
previously occupied. "These will do," said I, "now let me have
something to eat, and send for a good tail