"All day yesterday I was very busy, and very happy in my ceaseless bustle;
for I am not, as you seem to think, troubled by any haunting fears about the new sphere, et cetera:
I think it a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you, because I love you.
No, sir, don't caress me now -- let me talk undisturbed.
Yesterday I trusted well in Providence, and believed that events were working together for your good and mine:
it was a fine day, if you recollect -- the calmness of the air and sky forbade apprehensions respecting your safety or comfort on your journey.
I walked a little while on the pavement after tea, thinking of you;
and I beheld you in imagination so near me, I scarcely missed your actual presence.
I thought of the life that lay before me -- your life, sir -- an existence more expansive and stirring than my own:
as much more so as the depths of the sea to which the brook runs are than the shallows of its own strait channel.
I wondered why moralists call this world a dreary wilderness: for me it blossomed like a rose.