I can bear this no longer. You pierced my soul. I’m half agony, half hope. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. I offer myself to you again with a heart more your own than when you almost broke it eight years ago. I have loved none but you. You alone, who brought me to Bath, for you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? I can hardly write. I must go, uncertain of my fate. A word, a look, would be enough. Only tell me that I am… tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.