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the very image of her； I am no judge。You have the face to doubt my making the best husband in the world； you might as well doubt it if I was married to one of the Houris of Paradise。 She is a saint； an angel； a love。 If she deceives me again； she kills me。 But I will have such a kiss when I get back； as shall last me twenty years。 May God bless her for not utterly disowning and destroying me！ What an exquisite little creature it is； and how she holds out to the last in her system of consistent contradictions！ Since I wrote to you about making a formal proposal； I have had her face constantly before me； looking so like some faultless marble statue； as cold； as fixed and graceful as ever statue did； the expression （nothing was ever like THAT！） seemed to say〃I wish I could love you better than I do； but still I will be yours。〃 No； I'll never believe again that she will not be mine； for I think she was made on purpose for me。 If there's anyone else that understands that turn of her head as I do； I'll give her up without scruple。 I have made up my mind to this； never to dream of another woman； while she even thinks it worth her while to REFUSE TO HAVE ME。 You see I am not hard to please； after all。 Did M know of the intimacy that had subsisted between us？ Or did you hint at it？ I think it would be a CLENCHER； if he did。 How ought I to behave when I go back？ Advise a fool； who had nearly lost a Goddess by his folly。 The thing was； I could not think it possible she would ever like ME。 Her taste is singular； but not the worse for that。 I'd rather have her love； or liking （call it what you will） than empires。 I deserve to call her mine； for nothing else CAN atone for what I've gone through for her。 I hope your next letter will not reverse all； and then I shall be happy till I see her；one of the blest when I do see her； if she looks like my own beautiful love。 I may perhaps write a line when I come to my right wits。Farewel at present； and thank you a thousand times for what you have done for your poor friend。
P。 S。I like what M said about her sister； much。 There are good people in the world： I begin to see it； and believe it。
LETTER THE LAST
Dear P； To…morrow is the decisive day that makes me or mars me。 I will let you know the result by a line added to this。 Yet what signifies it； since either way I have little hope there； 〃whence alone my hope cometh！〃 You must know I am strangely in the dumps at this present writing。 My reception with her is doubtful； and my fate is then certain。 The hearing of your happiness has； I own； made me thoughtful。 It is just what I proposed to her to doto have crossed the Alps with me； to sail on sunny seas； to bask in Italian skies； to have visited Vevai and the rocks of Meillerie； and to have repeated to her on the spot the story of Julia and St。 Preux； and to have shewn her all that my heart had stored up for herbut on my forehead alone is writtenREJECTED！ Yet I too could have adored as fervently； and loved as tenderly as others； had I been permitted。 You are going abroad； you say； happy in making happy。 Where shall I be？ In the grave； I hope； or else in her arms。 To me； alas！ there is no sweetness out of her sight； and that sweetness has turned to bitterness； I fear； that gentleness to sullen scorn！ Still I hope for the best。 If she will but HAVE me； I'll make her LOVE me： and I think her not giving a positive answer looks like it； and also shews that there is no one else。 Her holding out to the last also； I think； proves that she was never to have been gained but with honour。 She's a strange； almost an inscrutable girl： but if I once win her consent； I shall kill her with kindness。Will you let me have a sight of SOMEBODY before you go？ I should be most proud。 I was in hopes to have got away by the Steam…boat to…morrow； but owing to the business not coming on till then； I cannot； and may not be in town for another week； unless I come by the Mail； which I am strongly tempted to do。 In the latter case I shall be there； and visible on Saturday evening。 Will you look in and see； about eight o'clock？ I wish much to see you and her and J。 H。 and my little boy once more； and then； if she is not what she once was to me； I care not if I die that instant。 I will conclude here till to…morrow； as I am getting into my old melancholy。
It is all over； and I am my own man； and yours ever
PART III
ADDRESSED TO J。 S。 K。
My dear K； It is all over； and I know my fate。 I told you I would send you word； if anything decisive happened； but an impenetrable mystery hung over the affair till lately。 It is at last （by the merest accident in the world） dissipated； and I keep my promise； both for your satisfaction； and for the ease of my own mind。
You remember the morning when I said 〃I will go and repose my sorrows at the foot of Ben Lomond〃and when from Dumbarton Bridge its giant…shadow； clad in air and sunshine； appeared in view。 We had a pleasant day's walk。 We passed Smollett's monument on the road （somehow these poets touch one in reflection more than most military heroes）talked of old times； you repeated Logan's beautiful verses to the cuckoo；* which I wanted to compare with Wordsworth's； but my courage failed me； you then told me some passages of an early attachment which was suddenly broken off； we considered together which was the most to be pitied； a disappointment in love where the attachment was mutual or one where there has been no return； and we both agreed； I think； that the former was best to be endured； and that to have the consciousness of it a companion for life was the least evil of the two； as there was a secret sweetness that took off the bitterness and the sting of regret； and 〃the memory of what once had been〃 atoned； in some measure； and at intervals； for what 〃never more could be。〃 In the other case； there was nothing to look back to with tender satisfaction； no redeeming trait； not even a possibility of turning it to good。 It left behind it not cherished sighs； but stifled pangs。 The galling sense of it did not bring moisture into the eyes； but dried up the heart ever after。 One had been my fate； the other had been yours！
＇*〃Sweet bird； thy bower is ever green； Thy sky is ever clear； Thou hast no sorrow in thy song； No winter in thy year。〃
So they begin。 It was the month of May； the cuckoo sang shrouded in some woody copse； the showers fell between whiles； my friend repeated the lines with native enthusiasm in a clear manly voice； still resonant of youth and hope。 Mr。 Wordsworth will excuse me； if in these circumstances I declined entering the field with his profounder metaphysical strain； and kept my preference to myself。＇
You startled me every now and then from my reverie by the robust voice； in which you asked the country people （by no means prodigal of their answers）〃If there was any trout fishing in those streams？〃and our dinner at Luss set us up for the rest of our day's march。 The sky now became overcast； but this； I think； added to the effect of the scene。 The road to Tarbet is superb。 It is on the very verge of the lakehard； level； rocky； with low stone bridges constantly flung a