_Monday night, March 21, 1843._
I am terribly blue, and full of remorse for my anger to-day. The only
excuse I can offer is that the transition between our delicious stop in
that wonderful resting-place and the remainder of our walk was too
abrupt. It was like falling from heaven into hell. If I distressed you,
I am as repentant as I can be, but I hope I have not caused you to
suffer as much as I have myself. You have reproached me oftentimes for
being indifferent to everything; I suppose you meant only that I was
undemonstrative. When I am not myself, it is because I am in bodily
anguish. Admit that it is sad, after so long an acquaintance, and after
having become the friends we are, to see you always suspicious of me.
The weather to-day has been like our mood. It will clear to-night, I
think. The stars shine brighter than I have ever seen them. Let us
arrange some less stormy excursion. Good-bye. No more quarrels! I shall
try to be more reasonable. Do you try to be ruled more by your first
impulses.