My sensations are constantly changing. Sometimes a happy prospect opens
before me; but alas! it is only for a moment; and then, when I am
lost in reverie, I cannot help saying to myself, "If Albert were
to die?—Yes, she would become—and I should be"—and so I pursue a
chimera, till it leads me to the edge of a precipice at which I shudder.
When I pass through the same gate, and walk along the same road which
first conducted me to Charlotte, my heart sinks within me at the change
that has since taken place. All, all, is altered! No sentiment, no
pulsation of my heart, is the same. My sensations are such as would
occur to some departed prince whose spirit should return to visit the
superb palace which he had built in happy times, adorned with costly
magnificence, and left to a beloved son, but whose glory he should find
departed, and its halls deserted and in ruins.