A few days after, I got a
letter, the direction of which puzzled me, it being in a hand I was
not accustomed to see. Evidently, it was neither from you nor Mary,
my only correspondents. Having opened and read it, it proved to be a
declaration of attachment and proposal of matrimony, expressed in the
ardent language of the sapient young Irishman! I hope you are
laughing heartily. This is not like one of my adventures, is it? It
more nearly resembles Martha's. I am certainly doomed to be an old
maid. Never mind. I made up my mind to that fate ever since I was
twelve years old.
"Well! thought I, I have heard of love at first sight, but this beats
all! I leave you to guess what my answer would be, convinced that you
will not do me the injustice of guessing wrong."
On the 14th of August she still writes from Haworth:--
"I have in vain packed my box, and prepared everything for our
anticipated journey. It so happens that I can get no conveyance this
week or the next. The only gig let out to hire in Haworth, is at
Harrowgate, and likely to remain there, for aught I can hear. Papa
decidedly objects to my going by the coach, and walking to B., though
I am sure I could manage it. Aunt exclaims against the weather, and
the roads, and the four winds of heaven, so I am in a fix, and, what
is worse, so are you.
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