"'My lord,' cried I, endeavoring to disengage my hand, 'pray, let me go!'
'I will,' cried he, to my inexpressible confusion, dropping on one knee, 'if you wish to leave me!'
'Oh, my Lord,' exclaimed I, 'rise, I beseech you, rise! Such a posture to me! Surely your Lordship is not so cruel as to mock me!'
'Mock you!' repeated he earnestly, 'no, I revere you! I esteem and admire you above all human beings! You are the friend to whom my soul is attached as to its better half! You are the most amiable, the most perfect of women! And you are dearer to me than language has the power of telling!'"
"Pressing my hand affectionately to his heart, 'You are now,' (said he, in a low voice) 'all my own! Oh my Evelina, how will my soul find room for its happiness? It seems already bursting!'"