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o she has oftenest come into my room and enchanted me！ She was once ill； pale； and had lost all her freshness。 I only adored her the more for it； and fell in love with the decay of her beauty。 I could devour the little witch。 If she had a plague…spot on her； I could touch the infection： if she was in a burning fever； I could kiss her； and drink death as I have drank life from her lips。 When I press her hand； I enjoy perfect happiness and contentment of soul。 It is not what she says or what she doesit is herself that I love。 To be with her is to be at peace。 I have no other wish or desire。 The air about her is serene； blissful； and he who breathes it is like one of the Gods！ So that I can but have her with me always； I care for nothing more。 I never could tire of her sweetness； I feel that I could grow to her； body and soul？ My heart； my heart is hers。
LETTER VI
（Written in May）
Dear P； What have I suffered since I parted with you！ A raging fire is in my heart and in my brain； that never quits me。 The steam…boat （which I foolishly ventured on board） seems a prison…house； a sort of spectre…ship； moving on through an infernal lake； without wind or tide； by some necromantic powerthe splashing of the waves； the noise of the engine gives me no rest； night or dayno tree； no natural object varies the scenebut the abyss is before me； and all my peace lies weltering in it！ I feel the eternity of punishment in this life； for I see no end of my woes。 The people about me are ill； uncomfortable； wretched enough； many of thembut to…morrow or next day； they reach the place of their destination； and all will be new and delightful。 To me it will be the same。 I can neither escape from her； nor from myself。 All is endurable where there is a limit： but I have nothing but the blackness and the fiendishness of scorn around memocked by her （the false one） in whom I placed my hope； and who hardens herself against me！I believe you thought me quite gay； vain； insolent； half mad； the night I left the houseno tongue can tell the heaviness of heart I felt at that moment。 No footsteps ever fell more slow； more sad than mine； for every step bore me farther from her； with whom my soul and every thought lingered。 I had parted with her in anger； and each had spoken words of high disdain； not soon to be forgiven。 Should I ever behold her again？ Where go to live and die far from her？ In her sight there was Elysium； her smile was heaven； her voice was enchantment； the air of love waved round her； breathing balm into my heart： for a little while I had sat with the Gods at their golden tables； I had tasted of all earth's bliss； 〃both living and loving！〃 But now Paradise barred its doors against me； I was driven from her presence； where rosy blushes and delicious sighs and all soft wishes dwelt； the outcast of nature and the scoff of love！ I thought of the time when I was a little happy careless child； of my father's house； of my early lessons； of my brother's picture of me when a boy； of all that had since happened to me； and of the waste of years to comeI stopped； faultered； and was going to turn back once more to make a longer truce with wretchedness and patch up a hollow league with love； when the recollection of her words〃I always told you I had no affection for you〃steeled my resolution； and I determined to proceed。 You see by this she always hated me； and only played with my credulity till she could find some one to supply the place of her unalterable attachment to THE LITTLE IMAGE。 * * * * * I am a little； a very little better to…day。 Would it were quietly over； and that this misshapen form （made to be mocked） were hid out of the sight of cold； sullen eyes！ The people about me even take notice of my dumb despair； and pity me。 What is to be done？ I cannot forget HER； and I can find no other like what SHE SEEMED。 I should wish you to call； if you can make an excuse； and see whether or no she is quite marblewhether I may go back again at my return； and whether she will see me and talk to me sometimes as an old friend。 Suppose you were to call on M from me； and ask him what his impression is that I ought to do。 But do as you think best。 Pardon； pardon。
P。S。I send this from Scarborough； where the vessel stops for a few minutes。 I scarcely know what I should have done； but for this relief to my feelings。
LETTER VII
My dear Friend； The important step is taken； and I am virtually a free man。 * * * What had I better do in these circumstances？ I dare not write to her； I dare not write to her father； or else I would。 She has shot me through with poisoned arrows； and I think another 〃winged wound 〃 would finish me。 It is a pleasant sort of balm （as you express it） she has left in my heart！ One thing I agree with you in； it will remain there for ever； but yet not very long。 It festers； and consumes me。 If it were not for my little boy； whose face I see struck blank at the news； looking through the world for pity and meeting with contempt instead； I should soon； I fear； settle the question by my death。 That recollection is the only thought that brings my wandering reason to an anchor； that stirs the smallest interest in me； or gives me fortitude to bear up against what I am doomed to feel for the ungrateful。 Otherwise； I am dead to every thing but the sense of what I have lost。 She was my lifeit is gone from me； and I am grown spectral！ If I find myself in a place I am acquainted with； it reminds me of her； of the way in which I thought of her；
〃and carved on every tree The soft； the fair； the inexpressive she！〃
If it is a place that is new to me； it is desolate； barren of all interest； for nothing touches me but what has a reference to her。 If the clock strikes； the sound jars me； a million of hours will not bring back peace to my breast。 The light startles me； the darkness terrifies me。 I seem falling into a pit； without a hand to help me。 She has deceived me； and the earth fails from under my feet； no object in nature is substantial； real； but false and hollow； like her faith on which I built my trust。 She came （I knew not how） and sat by my side and was folded in my arms； a vision of love and joy； as if she had dropped from the Heavens to bless me by some especial dispensation of a favouring Providence； and make me amends for all； and now without any fault of mine but too much fondness； she has vanished from me； and I am left to perish。 My heart is torn out of me； with every feeling for which I wished to live。 The whole is like a dream； an effect of enchantment； it torments me； and it drives me mad。 I lie down with it； I rise up with it； and see no chance of repose。 I grasp at a shadow； I try to undo the past； and weep with rage and pity over my own weakness and misery。 I spared her again and again （fool that I was） thinking what she allowed from me was love； friendship； sweetness； not wantonness。 How could I doubt it； looking in her face； and hearing her words； like sighs breathed from the gentlest of all bosoms？ I had hopes； I had prospects to come； the flattery of something like fame； a pleasure in writing； health even would have come back with her smileshe has