Morning, noon
`` It is no sudden fancy , '' said he , `` but was conceived years ago , on that dreary afternoon , when in your little room at the poor-house , you laid your head in my lap and wept , as you told me how lonely you were . Do you remember it , Mary ? I do ; and never now does your image come before me , but I think of you as you were then , when the wild wish that you should one day be mine first entered my heart . Morning , noon , and night have I thought of you , and no plan for the future have I ever formed which had not a direct reference to you . Once , Mary , I believed my affection for you returned , but now you are changed greatly changed . Your letters are brief and cold , and when I look around for the cause , I am led to fear that I was deceived in thinking you ever loved me , as I thought you did . If I am mistaken , tell me so ; but if I am not , if you can never be my wife , I will school myself to think of you as a brother would think of an only and darling sister . ''