"He is not to them what he is to me," I thought: "he is not of their kind.

I believe he is of mine;--I am sure he is--I feel akin to him--I understand the language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.

Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands?
Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than as a paymaster?
Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him.

I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me.

For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him.