I despair attempting to give an idea of the depth
and reality of my feelings. I have alluded to my precocity. I was
in love when 12 years old, the object being a man of 24, a
well-known analytical chemist. He came to my father's house very
frequently; and my heart beat almost at the mention of his name.
"The next serious time I was about 15. It was a farmer's son,
about two years older. I don't think that I was ever alone with
him, and really only knew him as a member of his family, yet for
a time he was my chief interest in life.
"When 21 I had a 'chum,' a youth of 17, who entertained for me,
at any rate, a brotherly affection. We were under the same roof,
and early one summer morning he got out of bed and came direct to
my room to talk about some matter or other. In order to talk more
comfortably he got into bed with me and we lay there just as two
school-girls might have done. This proximity was more than I
could stand, and my heart began to beat so that it was impossible
that he should not notice it. As, of course, he could not have
the slightest notion of the reason, he said in all innocence,
'Why, how your heart beats.
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