He is not to them what he is to me, he is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; I am sure he is I feel akin to him

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 isI feel akin to himI 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. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered:and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.