“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.' The list is long, Robert. Very long. And will grow longer still."He smiled. "Then let us begin with number one . . .”

“I imagined an impulsive Robert taking Henrietta's hands and proclaiming, "I love your sister dearly. Madly. We are betrothed.”

“And though many women might enjoy the offering of such compliments, I did not want him to love me based on temporal things like a smile or voice or presence, things that could vanish through mood or an unexpected cloud. He must love me for the sake of love alone . . .”

“I lifted my face to the sun and let its warmth and light caress me with its favor.”

“But his letters . . . I took them with me, let the "ounces" cry aloud. I tried to leave, and could not. They would not be left; it was not my fault. I will not be scolded.”

“Robert walked faster than usual, and I had trouble keeping up with him, but I did not hold him back. I was pleased at his urgency. I understood it, for when inspired one does not amble, one runs toward the source.”

“Better for my heart to be untested then to experience a counterfeit to this love we have between us.”