I feel as if I were living alone on Ascension Island with the tide coming up continuously, up and up and up.
November 6.
She has known all from the beginning! M—— warned her not to marry me. How brave and loyal of her! What an ass I have been. I am overwhelmed with feelings of shame and self-contempt and sorrow for her. She is quite cheerful and an enormous help.
November 12.
What a wreck my existence has become and—dragging down others with me.
If only I could rest assured that after I am dead these Journals will be tenderly cared for—as tenderly as this blessed infant! It would be cruel if even after I have paid the last penalty, my efforts and sufferings should continue to remain unknown or disregarded. What I would give to know the effect I shall produce when published! I am tortured by two doubts—whether these MSS. (the labour and hope of many years) will survive accidental loss and whether they really are of any value. I have no faith in either.
November 14.
In fits of panic, I keep saying to myself: "My dear Brown, what am I to do?" But where is Brown? Brown, you devil! where are you?
... To think how I have acted the Prince to her when really I am only a beggar!
November 16.