something in the state
of my eyes which he was afraid to tell me of? Nonsense! Grosse is not the
sort of man who shrinks from speaking out. I have fatigued my eyes--that
is all. Let me shut up my book, and go down-stairs to breakfast.

_Ten o'clock._--For a moment, I open my Journal again.

Something has happened which I must positively set down in the history of
my life. I am so vexed and so angry! The maid, (wretched chattering
fool!) has told my aunt what passed between us this morning at my window.
Miss Batchford has taken the alarm, and has insisted on writing, not only
to Grosse, but to my father. In the present embittered state of my
father's feelings against my aunt, he will either leave her letter
unanswered, or he will offend her by an angry reply. In either case, I
shall be the sufferer: my aunt's sense of injury--which cannot address
itself to my father--will find a convenient object to assail in me. I
shall never hear the last of it. Being already nervous and dispirited,
the prospect of finding myself involved in a new family quarrel quite
daunts me. I feel ungratefully inclined to run away from Miss Batchford,
when I think of it!

No signs of Oscar; and no news of Oscar--yet.

_Twelve o'clock._--But one trial more was wanted to make my life here
quite unendurable. The trial has come.

A letter from Oscar (sent by a messenger from his hotel) has just been
placed in my hands. It informs me that he has decided on leaving Ramsgate
by the next train. The next train starts in forty minutes. Good God! what
am I to do?

My eyes are burning. I know it does them harm to cry. How can I help
crying? It is all over between us, if I let Oscar go away alone--his
letter as good as tells me so. Oh, why have I behaved so coldly to him? I
ought to make any sacrifice of my own feelings to atone for it. And yet,
there is an obstinate something in me that shrinks--What am I to do? what
am I to do?

I must drop the pen, and try if I can think. My eyes completely fail me.
I can write no more.

[Note.--I copy the letter to which Lucilla refers.

Nugent's own assertion is, that he wrote it in a moment of remorse, to
give her an opportunity of breaking the engagement by which she
innocently supposed herself to be held to him. He declares that he
honestly believed the letter would offend her, when he wrote it. The
other interpretation of the document is, that finding himself obliged to
leave Ramsgate--under penalty (if he