Our heroine now gradually recovered from the disorder into which the unexpected sight of Damon had thrown her. She was much surprised at looking up to find him in her presence. “How is this,” cried she, “how came you hither?” “The meeting,” said our hero, “is equally unexpected to us both. But, ah, my charmer, whence this disorder? Why did you tremble, why look so pale?” “Oh goodness,” cried Miss Fletcher, “what should it be? Why it was nothing in all the world, but her seeing you just now from the window.” “And were you,” cried Damon eagerly, “so kind as to summon me to your presence?” “No, no, my good sir,” said the lively lady, “you must thank me for that”. “How then at least,” said the lover, “must I interpret your disorder?”
Delia was inexpressibly confused at the inconsiderate language of her companion. “I cannot tell,” said she, “you must not ask me. You must forget it.” “And can I,” cried Damon with transport, “ever forget a disorder so propitious, so flattering? Can I hope that the heart of my charmer is not indifferent to her Damon!” “Oh sir, be silent. Do not use a language like this.” “Alas,” cried he, “too long has my passion been suppressed. Too long have I been obliged to act a studied part, and employ a language foreign to my heart.” “I thought,” answered Delia, with hesitation, “that you were going to leave the kingdom.” “And did my fair one condescend to employ a thought upon me? Did she interest herself in my concern and enquire after my welfare? And how so soon could she have learned my intention?”
This question, joined with the preceding circumstances, completed the confusion of Delia. She blushed, stammered, and was silent. Damon, during this interval, gazed upon her with unmingled rapture. Every symptom she betrayed of confusion, was to him a symptom of something inexpressibly soothing. “Ah,” whispered he to himself, “I am beloved, and can I then leave the kingdom? Can I quit this inestimable treasure? Can I slight so pure a friendship, and throw away the jewel upon which all my future happiness depends?”
The conversation, from the peculiar circumstances of the lovers, had so immediately become interesting, that the gentlemen had not had an opportunity of quitting them. During the short silence that prevailed the friend of Damon took young Fletcher by the hand, and led him into the garden. The lovers were now under less restraint. Delia, perceiving that she could no longer conceal her sentiments, confessed them with ingenuous modesty. Damon on the other hand was ravished at so unexpected a discovery, and in a few minutes had lived an age in love.