him, weep, pray, and feel for him as for myself; but I cannot act for
him; and hence I must be, and I am, debased, contaminated by the union,
both in my own eyes and in the actual truth. I am so determined to love
him, so intensely anxious to excuse his errors, that I am continually
dwelling upon them, and labouring to extenuate the loosest of his
principles and the worst of his practices, till I am familiarised with
vice, and almost a partaker in his sins. Things that formerly shocked
and disgusted me, now seem only natural. I know them to be wrong,
because reason and God's word declare them to be so; but I am gradually
losing that instinctive horror and repulsion which were given me by
nature, or instilled into me by the precepts and example of my aunt.
Perhaps then I was too severe in my judgments, for I abhorred the sinner
as well as the sin; now I flatter myself I am more charitable and
considerate; but am I not becoming more indifferent and insensate too?
Fool that I was, to dream that I had strength and purity enough to save
myself and him! Such vain presumption would be rightly served, if I
should perish with him in the gulf from which I sought to save him! Yet,
God preserve me from it, and him too! Yes, poor Arthur, I will still
hope and pray for you; and though I write as if you were some abandoned
wretch, past hope and past reprieve, it is only my anxious fears, my
strong desires that make me do so; one who loved you less would be less
bitter, less dissatisfied.

His conduct has, of late, been what the world calls irreproachable; but
then I know his heart is still unchanged; and I know that spring is
approaching, and deeply dread the consequences.

As he began to recover the tone and vigour of his exhausted frame, and
with it something of his former impatience of retirement and repose, I
suggested a short residence by the sea-side, for his recreation and
further restoration, and for the benefit of our little one as well. But
no: watering-places were so intolerably dull; besides, he had been
invited by one of his friends to spend a month or two in Scotland for the
better recreation of grouse-shooting and deer-stalking, and had promise
to go.

'Then you will leave me again, Arthur?' said I.

'Yes, dearest, but only to love you the better when I come back, and make
up for all past offences and short-comings; and you needn't fear me this
time: there are no temptations on the mountains. And during my ab