"Emily!--Thy father has requested me to renounce our verlobment; to break off the correspondence. I had already written to give him this assurance, but he had not the goodness to receive the letter. Consequently I have not given it him, and his will is for me no unconditional law.
"But thou appearest to be of the same mind, and thy wishes shall be sacred to me till my last breath. Fear not that I will embarrass thee with further importunities: only I cannot deny myself the melancholy pleasure, once more, in this last letter, to speak to thee from my heart. I will justify myself to thee, justify thou also thyself to thyself. My heart shall and must be silent: I have cause to fear that its language will no longer be understood; and I will not desecrate its sensibilities. It has for some time been my employment to read over again all thy letters with a bitter feeling. It is as if the lovely deception yet still played round my heart; as if it could not awake out of the sweet dream. I know many kinds of doubts, but none gives such a scorpion sting as the doubt with which thou hast inspired me. I have been happy,--happy in my vain belief! and I thank thee for it. Thou mayst be proud;--no other woman has made me so happy as thou. Thou mayst be very proud;--none can henceforward make me happy. Thou bringest me back to my old philosophy respecting the fair sex, and indeed at the right time.
"Emily, thou hast not dealt nobly, not honestly, with me, not wisely with thyself. Why hast thou not told me the truth? Thinkest thou that I shun the truth, even when it strikes me to the earth? I observed thy change immediately with the holiday. I ran to and fro, full of anguish, like one possessed. No greeting came from thee--no affectionate inquiry--no question after a letter, which I had, in fact, written seven times and tore again to pieces. My spirit was on the rack. Then informed me, Neuburg, that the connexion must cease; that thou wished it--thou! who only a fortnight before, sent me the most sacred protestations! Thy father had taken away all hope from thee; had menaced thee with his curse!
"Of all this nothing was true, as I learned from thy father's letter. What course, thinkest thou, then was left me to pursue in accordance with my character, but to write to thy father directly, as from thy messenger I must understand that he knew all. Hadst thou but said the truth to me, I should, after a short struggle, have returned every thing to thee.
"Thou complainest of my pride, and takest great pains to humble me. Perhaps thou mayst succeed; perhaps not. Thy father will receive no further letter from me; thy mother, none; thou thyself perhaps, none. That cannot humiliate me. I find my conduct tolerably consistent,--as consistent as a man in my state of mind can be.
"What shall I now do? It was thy desire,--thine, and thine only to break off. Thou wouldst have spared me, and thyself, and thy parents, many painful feelings, if thou hadst acted with somewhat more consideration. It seems as if thou hadst made it thy pleasure to wind up my sensibilities to such a height, in order then to make me feel my nothingness. Thou hast succeeded. The maiden who, but shortly before, hung on my neck, and prayed assurances of my truth, has now not once the courage to say that she loves me. I am too serious for gallantry; and thou hast wofully erred, if thou hast classed me amongst such men. It seems we have neither of us known each other, and need therefore make no complaints of each other. That I have disturbed thy peace, forgive me. That thou hast created in me so many beautiful hopes, only again to destroy them; that through thee my joys are dashed to the ground, that will I forgive thee; lament my simplicity, and again class thee amongst the ordinary crowd of maidens.
"Could I but do that, Emily, I should yet be happy enough. My seriousness has not pleased thee; and, in order to cure it, thou hast poured bitterness into it. I complain not of thy parents; they act according to their notions of duty; but how thou actest according to thy conception of duty, I cannot perceive. Thou hast neither acted towards thy father nor towards me as thou shouldst. The reasons which thy father gives are valid enough, as thou givest weight to them; but one thing more than all has struck me--it is called the fickleness of women.
"Thy father does thee justice. Emily, thou shouldst have been honest with me. I am not the man that will abuse the tender heart of a maiden. I challenge thee to speak the truth. Have I not been open-hearted with thee? Have I stolen thy affections? My whole soul hangs yet on thee, and never will it be able to loose itself from thee. If thou wert unworthy of me, would I weep and lament over thee? Tell me then candidly thy desires, and trust me that I have generosity enough to satisfy them all, even if it cost me my life. Thou canst charge nothing upon my honour. Thou would long ago have had thy letters, if thy father had not demanded them. He shall not receive them, but he shall read them if he desires it, for his own satisfaction and thy justification. Hast thou written any thing that thou art ashamed to acknowledge? Hast thou cause for shame? Then are we both to be pitied; thy father and I, and thou most of all. Then shall they, to extinguish all mistrust, be destroyed in thy presence. If I am reluctant to come into thy father's presence, yet I will not be ashamed before him. I am wont to compel respect, if indeed I can acquire no attachment. I can well imagine how many disadvantageous things people will tell thee at my expense. If thou canst believe them without examination, then, indeed, have I expended on thee every sentiment of my heart in vain. I pity thee in all my misery far more than myself, since I shall probably so long as I live continue a living reproof to thee. My conduct will be thy punishment. I assure thee, love, that I shall never lose thee out of my soul. I have with no other maiden stood in a nearer relationship. Thou art the only one that has firmly fixed herself in my heart. Go whither thou wilt, I shall bear thee with me to the grave. Thirty years hence thou wilt most probably hear from me exactly the same tone, if thou art by any circumstance reminded of me.
"Emily, thou shouldst have dealt more honestly with me. By God! I would have sacrificed every thing for thee. Wilt thou be happy when at thy wedding I sing a song of sorrow, that my friends may weep with me?
"Emily, I pray thee, for God's sake, by the happiness that thou yet hopest, be worthy of thyself: I cannot believe any thing bad of thy heart. Be the friend of thy father, if thou canst no longer be my beloved. If my kiss has not ennobled thee, then am I an outcast, or thou a creature without mind. Do nothing--nothing secret. What I did was done on thy account; otherwise I walk ever in the light. For my sake, also, show this letter to thy parents; I will not, when occasion requires it, conceal from them that I have written this letter.