unexpectedly deprived of what formerly constituted my greatest pride, and there were hours when I shed tears at that loss.
The name of a sister entitled her to many innocent familiarities which transported me beyond myself. The language of friendship flowed from her lips, and I was sure her heart did not give them the lie; yet she never displayed one of those finer symptoms of a strong, over-powering passion; appeared to apprehend and to divine nothing; was always of the same temper, without either reserve or caprice. I did not know that there are female hearts of a nature different from that of the generality. What Adelheid had in common with the rest of her sex, with respect to love, I mistook for a peculiarity of all passions, and tormented myself with my own feelings at a time when I could have been completely happy.
We generally took a walk when the day began to decline. She took familiarly hold of my arm when we were alone; werambled
