ppress my hopes, I hurried
home, and rushed up-stairs to my room, having first provided myself with
a candle, though it was scarcely twilight yet--then, shut and bolted the
door, determined to tolerate no interruption; and sitting down before the
table, opened out my prize and delivered myself up to its perusal--first
hastily turning over the leaves and snatching a sentence here and there,
and then setting myself steadily to read it through.

I have it now before me; and though you could not, of course, peruse it
with half the interest that I did, I know you would not be satisfied with
an abbreviation of its contents, and you shall have the whole, save,
perhaps, a few passages here and there of merely temporary interest to
the writer, or such as would serve to encumber the story rather than
elucidate it. It begins somewhat abruptly, thus--but we will reserve its
commencement for another chapter.

CHAPTER XVI

June 1st, 1821.--We have just returned to Staningley--that is, we
returned some days ago, and I am not yet settled, and feel as if I never
should be. We left town sooner than was intended, in consequence of my
uncle's indisposition;--I wonder what would have been the result if we
had stayed the full time. I am quite ashamed of my new-sprung distaste
for country life. All my former occupations seem so tedious and dull, my
former amusements so insipid and unprofitable. I cannot enjoy my music,
because there is no one to hear it. I cannot enjoy my walks, because
there is no one to meet. I cannot enjoy my books, because they have not
power to arrest my attention: my head is so haunted with the
recollections of the last few weeks, that I cannot attend to them. My
drawing suits me best, for I can draw and think at the same time; and if
my productions cannot now be seen by any one but myself, and those who do
not care about them, they, possibly, may be, hereafter. But, then, there
is one face I am always trying to paint or to sketch, and always without
success; and that vexes me. As for the owner of that face, I cannot get
him out of my mind--and, indeed, I never try. I wonder whether he ever
thinks of me; and I wonder whether I shall ever see him again. And then
might follow a train of other wonderments--questions for time and fate to
answer--concluding with--Supposing all the rest be answered in the
affirmative, I wonder whether I shall ever repent it? as my aunt would
tell me I should, if she knew