and of assuring you that I shall never cease to remember you."
There was a moment's pause. Mrs. Huntingdon moved away, and stood in the recess of the window. Did she regard this as an intimation that modesty alone prevented me from asking her hand? and was she considering how to repulse me with the smallest injury to my feelings? Before I could speak to relieve her from such a perplexity, she broke the silence herself by suddenly turning towards me and observing—
"You might have had such an opportunity before—as far I mean as regards assuring me of your kindly recollections, and yourself of mine, if you had written to me."
"I would have done so, but I did not know your address, and did not like to ask your brother, because I thought he would object to my writing—but this would not have deterred me for a moment, if I could have ventured to believe that you expected to hear from me, or
