“Nay, start not,” continued my uncle, “my assertion is fact; for were
it even possible she was her _own child_, so strong a resemblance could
scarcely exist; I surely, then, need not repeat what sort of woman
she was whom I so fervently adored, for you have already her portrait
subjoined to every quality the human heart was capable of possessing;
we met by accident at an assembly, and one hour’s pleasure rendered us
reciprocally dear to each other. But, alas! the disparity of fortunes
precluded all hopes of our union, till time or circumstances should
ameliorate the rigid temper of her father; for she was an only child,
most duteous and obedient to his stern command; thus situated, our only
resource of correspondence or intercourse rested entirely on the basis
of juvenile duplicity, as occasion presented itself; but both young and
unpractised in the wiles of dissimulation, our bosoms were the mansions
of love, honour, and fidelity.”