He handed me out & gave me his arm,
walking up the avenue so slowly that I thought we should never
get to the house: he repeated almost under his breath: “I
have 3 questions to ask. may I ask them? “Yes, but I don’t pro-
mise to answer them if they are puzzling. “The first is: may
I write to you before I go to Chimborazo?” I saw of course
what he meant. his manner was wholly different from what
it had ever been before. his voice was low & agitated – whe-
ther he put this on for the occasion, or whether he was really
a little agitated as I rather think – not from love I do not
suspect him of that – but from earnestness to obtain his point
& a little conflict between hope of success & fear of morti-
fication, I don’t know – but it is certain that it was so
why – but I tried to conceal this & answered quickly: “O no
you must not write except from the very summit of the moun-
tain. “But I am not jesting – do let me write to you.” No, you
know I should not answer.” “But if the letter required an an-
swer, you could not help answering it, could you? “O I do
not want any letter.” He went on pressing me. We were at
the front door – I tried to say something of Lucia, but he would
not listen, but repeated: pray let me write “Good-night
said I. He seemed fixed to the spot & in a hurried, breathless
but very low & beseeching tone said, “Will you, do walk with
me a few steps. I have something to say. “No indeed I cant.
I felt provoked with myself for not being perfectly self-
possessed, but tho’ it was too dark to see my face, I am
sure he must have perceived that I was a little agitated for
I felt my voice tremble. I seemed to have no command
over it. I wanted him to go & I feared the family would
come out & besides his manner was so different from
common that it frightened me. This all took place in a
moment or two. He repeated: ‘do walk round the grounds
or just go down to the gate with me. “No, no – “but you’ll
let me write.” No, it would be only like the ride.”
“Then good bye. he offered me his hand to shake, then
d held mine fast for an instant saying eagerly & yet more
imploringly than before, “one word more & I have done:
lowering his voice yet more: “Is it the man you object to or dislike?
I broke away abruptly saying: “I don’t know what you
mean. I don’t want to hear anything of all this: good-
night.” I marched in while he remained facing me & only
turned slowly away, when I made a motion to shut the
door. Unluckily, I suddenly remembered that he had still got
Cornelia’s letter. I could not bear to call him back – it
seemed as if I were relenting – yet to let him go off with it –
I could not bear to do that – besides, it would be giving him
a pretext to come again. so I called: “Mr Swett, you have
forgotten to give me Miss Amory’s letter. He turned & in a
confused & hesitating manner said “Where is it? – I believe
– it must be in the gig. I’ll go & look. “No, said I, decidedly, you
know it is in your pocket – give it to me directly.” he then drew it
forth but held it fast, though I stretched out my hand for it. “Do let
me just take it home with me tonight. I will bring it out early to-
morrow morning. I want extremely to add a note to it.” “No, I must
have it now.” He then gave it, saying, however, again, “then do
at least walk a few steps.” No, goodnight. He would have sha-
ken hands again but I turned away while he said “one more
question. “Do you disesteem me wholly for this? “Oh no. “Thank you
& I must & shall write to you one letter. I shut the door, &
hurried into the dining-room where the family were assembled
wondering at my long absence.
[Note: The last 7 lines of page 54 are not included in the transcription.]