“It is impossible, Mr. Wrayburn. How can I think of you as being on equal terms with me? If my mind could put you on equal terms with me, you could not be yourself. How could I remember, then, the night when I first saw you, and when I went out of the room because you looked at me so attentively? Or, the night that passed into the morning when you broke to me that my father was dead? Or, the nights when you used to come to see me at my next home? Or, your having known how uninstructed I was, and having caused me to be taught better? Or, my having so looked up to you and wondered at you, and at first thought you so good to be at all mindful of me?”

“Only ‘at first’ thought me so good, Lizzie? What did you think me after ‘at first’? So bad?”

“I don’t say that. I don’t mean that. But after the first wonder and pleasure of being noticed by one so different from anyone who had ever spoken to me, I began to feel that it might have been better if I had never seen you.”