the following Sunday. My heart longed ardently for that day. Could I
possibly imagine that you, would take a resolution not to come again to
our church! I tried to be patient until that Sunday; but when I found
myself disappointed in my hope, my misery became unbearable, and it will
cause my death if you refuse to listen to my justification. Your letter
has made me completely unhappy, and I shall not resist my despair if you
persist in the cruel resolve expressed by your unfeeling letter. You have
considered yourself trifled with; that is all you can say; but will this
letter convince you of your error? And even believing yourself deceived
in the most scandalous manner, you must admit that to write such an awful
letter you must have supposed me an abominable wretch--a monster, such as
a woman of noble birth and of refined education cannot possibly be. I
enclose the two letters you sent back to me, with the idea of allaying my
fears which you cruelly supposed very different to what they are in
reality. I am a better physiognomist than you, and you must be quite
certain that I have not acted thoughtlessly, for I never thought you
capable, I will not say of crime, but even of an indelicate action. You
must have read on my features the signs only of giddy impudence, and that
is not my nature. You may be the cause of my death, you will certainly
make me miserable for the remainder of my life, if you do not justify
yourself; on my side I think the justification is complete.

"I hope that, even if you feel no interest in my life, you will think
that you are bound in honour to come and speak to me. Come yourself to
recall all you have written; it is your duty, and I deserve it. If you do
not realize the fatal effect produced upon me by your letter, I must
indeed pity you, in spite of my misery, for it proves that you have not
the slightest knowledge of the human heart. But I feel certain that you
will come back, provided the man to whom I trust this letter contrives to
find you. Adieu! I expect life or death from you."

I did not require to read that letter twice; I was ashamed and in
despair. M---- M---- was right. I called the Forlanese, enquired from him
whether he had spoken to her in the morning, and whether she looked ill.
He answered that he had found her looking more unhappy every day, and
that her eyes were red from weeping.

"Go down again and wait," I said to him.

I began to write, and I had not concluded my long