(the expression 'Love-wounded Proteus' giving her that idea), she talked to these kind words, telling them she would lodge them in her bosom as in a bed, till their wounds were healed, and that she would kiss each several piece, to make amends.
In this manner she went on talking with a pretty ladylike childishness, till finding herself unable to make out the whole, and vexed at her own ingratitude in destroying such sweet and loving words, as she called them, she wrote a much kinder letter to Proteus than she had ever done before.
Proteus was greatly delighted at receiving this favourable answer to his letter; and while he was reading it, he exclaimed: 'Sweet love, sweet lines, sweet life!' In the midst of his raptures he was interrupted by his father. 'How now!' said the old gentleman; 'what letter are you reading there?'
'My lord,' replied Proteus, 'it is a letter from my