I sailed close to the wind in one of my letters to Bridie, written at the time when Mr Dawes and myself were in the full blaze of our friendship. I have the letter in my hand now. At the time I wrote the words, I thought I was simply telling Bridie about the various people who were our society. But now I remember the dangerous pleasure I took in manoeuvring my news to include a particular name again and again. Mr Dawes and Captain Tench and a few others are the chief among whom we visit. Innocent enough, and so is the next: Under Mr Dawes I have made a small progress in Botany. But here I can remember smiling to myself: Mr Dawes is so much engaged with the stars that to mortal eyes he is not always visible. At last I could not resist a private joke: I had the presumption to become Mr Dawes’ pupil, but I soon found I had mistaken my abilities and blush at my error.
I blush at my error! Reading the faded old ink I am smiling, remembering my pleasure in telling my secret but—as I thought—disguising it. I considered myself very clever. Now I see that this letter shouts the truth from the rooftops.