(Enclosed Letter.)
_To Henry Colden_
Tuesday Morning.
You went away this morning before I was awake. I think you might have
stayed to breakfast; yet, on second thoughts, your early departure was
best. _Perhaps_ it was so. You have made me very thoughtful to-day.
What passed last night has left my mind at no liberty to read and to
scribble as I used to do. How your omens made me shudder!
I want to see you. Can't you come again this evening? but no; you must
not. I must not be an encroacher. I must judge of others, and of their
claims upon your company, by myself and my own claims. Yet I should be
glad to see that creature who would dare to enter into competition with
_me_.
But I may as well hold my peace. My rights will not be admitted by
others. Indeed, no soul but yourself can know them in all their extent,
and, what is all I care for, _you_ are far from being strictly just
to me!
Don't be angry, Hal. Skip the last couple of sentences, or think of
them as not mine: I disown them. To-morrow, at six, the fire shall be
stirred, the candles lighted, and the sofa placed in order due. I shall be
at home to _nobody; mind that_.
_I am loath to mention one thing, however, but I must. Though nothing
be due to the absent man, somewhat is_ _due to myself. I have been
excessively uneasy the whole day. I am terrified at certain consequences.
What may not happen if--No; the last night's scene must not be repeated;
at least for a month to come. The sweet oblivion of the future and past
lasted only for the night. Now I have leisure to look forward, and am
resolved (don't laugh at my resolves; I am quite in earnest) to keep thee
at a distance for at least a fortnight to come. It shall be a whole month
if thou dost not submit with a good grace_.