g ten thousand pardons. I meaned
not, sir, to interrupt you. I will be gone." "No, go not." Answered he.
"Thou art welcome to my troubled thoughts. I could gaze for ever."
Saying this he rose and advancing towards her, seized her hand. "Be not
afraid," said he, "gentle fair one, my breast is a stranger to violence
and rudeness. I have felt the dart of love. Unhappy myself, I learn to
feel for others. But you are happy." As he said this, a tear unbidden
stole into the eye of Delia, and she wiped it away with the hand which was
disengaged from his. "And dost thou pity me," said he. "And does such
softness dwell within thy breast? If you knew the story of my woes, you
would have reason to pity me. I am in love to destraction, but I dare not
disclose my passion. I am banished from the presence of her I love. Ah,
cruel fate, I am entangled, inextricably entangled." "And how, sir," said
Delia, "can I serve you?" "Alas," said he, in no way. My case is hopeless
and irretrievable. And what am I doing? Why do I talk, when the season
calls for action? Oh, I am lost."
"Dear Sir," answered Delia, "you terrify me to death." "Oh, no. I would
not for the world give you an uneasy moment. Let me be unhappy--but may
misfortune never disturb your tranquility. I return to seek her whose fate
is surely destined to mix with mine. Pardon, loveliest of thy sex, the
distraction in which I have appeared. I would ask you to forget me--I
would ask you to remember me--I know not what I am, or what to think."
With these words he took the hand which he still held in one of his, and
raising it to his lips, kissed it with the utmost fervour. Immediately he
caught up his hat, which lay beside him on the ground, and began to
advance along the path that led out of the grove on the side furthest from
the town. But his eyes were still fixed upon Delia. He heeded not the path
by which he went; and scarcely had he gone twenty paces, ere he changed
his mind and returned. Delia was seated on the bank and seemed lost in
reverie. Damon threw himself upon his knees before her.
"Ah, why," said he, "am I constrained to depart!--Why must I talk in
riddles! Perhaps we may never see each other more. Perhaps the time will
come when I shall be able to clear up the obscurity that at present I am
obliged to preserve. But no, it cannot be. 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. T
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