Ap: 14. Got up tottering & feeble—then is it Eliza, that I feel the want of thy friendly hand & friendly Council—& yet, with thee beside me, thy Bramin would lose the merit of his virtue—he could not err—but I will take thee upon any terms Eliza! I shall be happy here—& I will be so just, so kind to thee, I will deserve not to be miserable hereafter—a Day dedicated to Abstinence & reflection—& what object will employ the greatest part of mine—full well does my Eliza know.
Munday. Ap: 15.
Worn out with fevers of all kinds, but most, by that fever of the heart with wch. I’m eternally wasting, & shall waste till I see Eliza again—dreadful Suffering of 15 months!—it may be more—great Controuler of Events! surely thou wilt proportion this, to my Strength, and to that of my Eliza. Pass’d the whole afternoon in reading her Letters, & reducing them to the order in which they were wrote to me—staid the whole evening at home—no pleasure or Interest in either Society or Diversions—What a change, my dear Girl, hast thou made in me!—but the Truth is, thou hast only turn’d the tide of my passions a new way—they flow Eliza to thee—& ebb from every other Object in this world—& Reason tells me they do right—for my heart has rated thee at a Price, that all the world is not rich enough to purchase thee from me, at. In a high fever all the night.
Ap: 16. and got up so ill, I could not go to Mrs. James as I had promised her—took James’s Powder however—& leand the whole day with my head upon my hand, sitting most dejectedly at the Table with my Eliza’s Picture before me—sympathizing & soothing me—O my Bramine! my Friend! my Help-mate!—for that (if I’m a prophet) is the Lot mark’d out for thee;—& such I consider thee now, & thence it is, Eliza, I share so righteously with thee in all the evil or good which befalls thee—But all our portion is Evil now, & all our hours grief—I look forwards towards the Elysium we have so often and rapturously talk’d of—Cordelia’s spirit will fly to tell thee in some sweet Slumber, the moment the door is open’d for thee & The Bramin of the Vally, shall follow the track wherever it leads him, to get to his Eliza, & invite her to his Cottage—
5 in the afternoon—I have just been eating my Chicking, sitting over my repast upon it, with Tears—a bitter Sause—Eliza! but I could eat it with no other—when Molly spread the Table Cloath, my heart fainted within me—one solitary plate—one knife—one fork—one Glass!—O Eliza! ’twas painfully distressing,—I gave a thousand pensive penetrating Looks at the Arm chair thou so often graced on these quiet, sentimental Repasts—& sighed & laid down my knife & fork,—& took out my handkerchief, clap’d it across my face & wept like a child—I shall read the same affecting acct. of many a sad Dinner wch. Eliza has had no power to taste of, from the same feelings & recollections, how She and her Bramin have eat their bread in peace and Love together.