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....Even this to my tenacious fancy seemed to convey reproach, & I wrested Ideas from the very breast of probability to torture myself on their refinement; the keen sensitiveness of my feelings remained continually alive to torment me in his detested [[underline]] presence. -- [[/underline]] "Oh St Elmer" would I sometimes say had you but one Error, it would be dearer to my heart than all yr virtues.-- however the keenness of my feelings had subsided, --I doubt no longer with refined Excess on the import of it, words & actions, so far had time mellowed the irritability of my Soul, & blunted the quick tenaciousness of my Ideas, --but it had done no more, --I still remembered such things were, & a Feather would have turned the scale.--
