Twelve o'clock
I have been telling Fitzgerald I am jealous of his prodigious attention to Emily , whose cecisbeo he has been the last ten days : the simpleton took me seriously , and began to vindicate himself , by explaining the nature of his regard for her , pleading her late indisposition as an excuse for shewing her some extraordinary civilities . I let him harangue ten minutes , then stops me him short , puts on my poetical face , and repeats , `` When sweet Emily complains , I have sense of all her pains ; But for little Bella , I Do not only grieve , but die . '' He smiled , kissed my hand , praised my amazing penetration , and was going to take this opportunity of saying a thousand civil things , when my divine Rivers appeared on the side of the hill ; I flew to meet him , and left my love to finish the conversation alone . Twelve o'clock . I am the happiest of all possible women ; Fitzgerald is in the sullens about your brother ; surely there is no pleasure in nature equal to that of plaguing a fellow who really loves one , especially if he has as much merit as Fitzgerald , for otherwise he would not be worth tormenting . He had better not pout with me : I believe I know who will be tired first . Eight in the evening .