It ſeems to me that I have not only loſt the hope, but the power of being happy.—Every emotion is now ſharpened by anguiſh.—My ſoul has been ſhook, and my tone of feelings deſtroyed.—I have gone out—and ſought for diſſipation, if not amuſement, merely to fatigue ſtill more, I find, my irritable nerves——
My friend—my dear friend—examine yourſelf well—I am out of the queſtion; for, alas! I am nothing—and diſcover what you wiſh to do—what will render you moſt comfortable—or, to be more explicit—whether you deſire to live with me, or part for ever? When you can once aſcertain it, tell me frankly, I conjure you!—for, believe me, I have very involuntarily interrupted your peace.
I ſhall expect you to dinner on Monday, and will endeavour to aſſume a cheerful face to greet you—at any rate I will avoid converſations, which only tend to harraſs your feelings, becauſe I am moſt affectionately yours,
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LETTER XLI
Wedneſday.
I incloſe you the letter, which you deſired me to forward, and I am tempted very laconically to wiſh you a good morning—not becauſe I am angry, or have nothing to ſay; but to keep down a wounded ſpirit.—I ſhall make every effort to calm my mind—yet a ſtrong conviction ſeems to whirl round in the very centre of my brain, which, like the fiat of fate, emphatically aſſures me, that grief has a firm hold of my heart.
God bleſs you!
Yours ſincerely