ThesightofLondonwarmedmyheartwithvariousemotions，suchasacordialmanmustdrawfromtheheartofallhumanity。Heretherearequickwaysandmanners，andtherapidsenseofknowledge，andthepowerofunderstanding，ereawordbespoken。WhereasatOare，youmustsayathingthreetimes，veryslowly，beforeitgetsinsidetheskullofthegoodmanyouareaddressing。Andyetwearefarmoreclevertherethaninanyparishforfifteenmiles。
Butwhatmovedmemost，whenIsawagainthenobleoilandtallowoftheLondonlights，andthedrippingtorchesatalmosteverycorner，andthehandsomesignboards，wasthethoughtthatheremyLornalived，andwalked，andtooktheair，andperhapsthoughtnowandthenoftheolddaysinthegoodfarm-house。
AlthoughIwouldmakenoapproachtoher，anymorethanshehaddonetomeuponwhichgriefIhavenotdwelt，forfearofseemingselfish，yettheremustbesomelargechance，orthelittlechancemightbeenlarged，offallinginwiththemaidensomehow，andlearninghowhermindwasset。Ifagainstme，allshouldbeover。
Iwasnotthemantosighandcryforlove，likeaRomeo：noneshouldevenguessmygrief，exceptmysisterAnnie。
ButifLornalovedmestill——asinmyheartofheartsI