My friend, I feel that every day I become more attached to you; the
smallest absence from you is insupportable; and when you are not with me
I must needs write you, so that I may occupy myself with you
unceasingly.
My mind is troubled with news that my father has just told me. He is
expecting a visit from his old friend, M. de Wolmar; and it is to M. de
Wolmar, I suspect, that he designs that I should be married. I cannot
marry without the approval of those who gave me life; and you know what
the fury of my father would be if I were to confess my love for you--for
he would assuredly not suffer me to be united to one whom he deems my
inferior in that mere worldly rank for which I care nothing. Yet I
cannot marry a man I do not love; and you are the only man I shall ever
love.
It pains me that I must not reveal our secret to my dear mother, who
esteems you so highly; but would she not reveal it, from a sense of
duty, to my father? It is best that only my inseparable Cousin Claire
should know the truth.