I find the ideas of sobriety and domestic solitude I have been cultivating for three days past somewhat deranged by the interruption of a visitor, with whom I know you will not be pleased.  It is no other than Major Sanford.  I was walking alone in the garden yesterday, when he suddenly appeared to my view.  “How happy am I,” said he, seizing my hand, “in this opportunity of finding you alone—­an opportunity, Miss Wharton, which I must improve in expatiating on a theme that fills my heart and solely animates my frame!”

I was startled at his impetuosity, and displeased with his freedom.  Withdrawing my hand, I told him that my retirement was sacred.  He bowed submissively; begged pardon for his intrusion; alleged that he found nobody but the servants in the house; that they informed him I was alone in the garden—­which intelligence was too pleasing for him to consult any forms of ceremony for the regulation of his conduct.  He then went on rhapsodically to declare his passion; his suspicions that I was forming a connection with Mr. Boyer, which would effectually destroy all his hopes of future happiness.  He painted the restraint, the confinement, the embarrassments to which a woman connected with a man of Mr. Boyer’s profession must be subjected, however agreeable his person might be.  He asked if my generous mind could submit to cares and perplexities like these; whether I could not find greater sources of enjoyment in a more elevated sphere of life, or share pleasures better suited to my genius and disposition, even in a single state.  I listened to him involuntarily.  My heart did not approve his sentiments; but my ear was charmed with his rhetoric, and my fancy captivated by his address.

He invited my confidence by the most ardent professions of friendship, and labored to remove my suspicions by vows of sincerity.  I was induced by his importunity gradually to disclose the state of affairs between Mr. Boyer and myself.  He listened eagerly; wished not, he said, to influence me unduly; but if I were not otherwise engaged, might he presume to solicit a place in my friendship and esteem, be admitted to enjoy my society, to visit me as an acquaintance, and to attend my excursions and amusements as a brother, if not more?  I replied that I was a pensioner of friendship at present; that friends were extremely refined in their notions of propriety; and that I had no right to receive visitants independent of them.  “I understand you, madam,” said he.  “You intimate that my company is not agreeable to them; but I know not why.  Surely my rank in life is as elevated, and my knowledge of and acceptance in the world are as extensive, as General Richman’s.”  “I hope,” said I, “since we are engaged in the conversation, that you will excuse my frankness if I tell you that the understanding and virtue of this worthy couple induce them, without any regard to rank, to bestow their esteem wherever it is merited.  I cannot say that you are not a