Friday.--Julia is here, and so kind! She has not mentioned his name, but
she sighed so deeply when she saw my pale and sunken countenance, that I
threw myself into her arms and cried like a child. We had no need of
other explanation: those tears spoke at once my confession and my
repentance. No letter from him for several days! Surely he is not ill!
how miserable that thought makes me!
Saturday.--A note has just been brought me from him. He is come
back-here! Good heavens! how very imprudent! I am so agitated that I
can write no more.
Sunday.--I have seen him! Let me repeat that sentence--I have seen him.
Oh that moment! did it not atone for all that I have suffered? I dare
not write everything he said, but he wished me to fly with him--him--what
happiness, yet what guilt, in the very thought! Oh! this foolish heart
--would that it might break! I feel too well the sophistry of his
arguments, and yet I cannot resist them. He seems to have thrown a spell
over me, which precludes even the effort to escape.
Monday.--Mr. Mandeville has asked several people in the country to dine
here to-morrow, and there is to be a ball in the evening. Falkland is of
course invited. We shall meet then, and how? I have been so little
accustomed to disguise my feelings, that I quite tremble to meet him with
so many witnesses around. Mr. Mandeville has been so harsh to me to-day;
if Falkland ever looked at me so, or ever said one such word, my heart
would indeed break. What is it Alfieri says about the two demons to whom
he is for ever a prey? "_La mente e il cor in perpetua lite_." Alas!
at times I start from my reveries with such a keen sense of agony and
shame! How, how am I fallen!
Tuesday.--He is to come here to-day and I shall see him!
Wednesday morning.--The night is over, thank Heaven! Falkland came late
to dinner: every one else was assembled. How gracefully he entered! how
superior he seemed to all the crowd that stood around him! He appeared
as if he were resolved to exert powers which he had disdained before. He
entered into the conversation, not only with such brilliancy, but with
such a blandness and courtesy of manner! There was no scorn on his lip,
no haughtiness on his forehead--nothing which showed him for a moment
conscious of his immeasurable superiority over every one present. After
dinner, as we retired, I caught his eyes. What volumes they told! and
then I had to listen to his praises, and say nothing. I felt angry even
in my pleasure. Who but I had a right to speak of him so well!
The ball came on: I felt languid and dispirited. Falkland did not dance.
He sat: himself by me--he urged me to--O God! O God! would that I were
dead!