fort--THIS I feel more
and more. Everything is to me a mockery of pleasure, like her love.
The breeze does not cool me: the blue sky does not cheer me. I gaze
only on her face averted from me--alas! the only face that ever was
turned fondly to me! And why am I thus treated? Because I wanted her
to be mine for ever in love or friendship, and did not push my gross
familiarities as far as I might. "Why can you not go on as we have
done, and say nothing about the word, FOREVER?" Was it not plain from
this that she even then meditated an escape from me to some less
sentimental lover? "Do you allow anyone else to do so?" I said to her
once, as I was toying with her. "No, not now!" was her answer; that is,
because there was nobody else in the house to take freedoms with her. I
was very well as a stopgap, but I was to be nothing more. While the
coast was clear, I had it all my own way: but the instant C---- came,
she flung herself at his head in the most barefaced way, ran breathless
up stairs before him, blushed when his foot was heard, watched for him
in the passage, and was sure to be in close conference with him when he
went down again. It was then my mad proceedings commenced. No wonder.
Had I not reason to be jealous of every appearance of familiarity with
others, knowing how easy she had been with me at first, and that she
only grew shy when I did not take farther liberties? What has her
character to rest upon but her attachment to me, which she now denies,
not modestly, but impudently? Will you yourself say that if she had all
along no particular regard for me, she will not do as much or more with
other more likely men? "She has had," she says, "enough of my
conversation," so it could not be that! Ah! my friend, it was not to be
supposed I should ever meet even with the outward demonstrations of
regard from any woman but a common trader in the endearments of love! I
have tasted the sweets of the well practiced illusion, and now feel the
bitterness of knowing what a bliss I am deprived of, and must ever be
deprived of. Intolerable conviction! Yet I might, I believe, have won
her by other methods; but some demon held my hand. How indeed could I
offer her the least insult when I worshipped her very footsteps; and
even now pay her divine honours from my inmost heart, whenever I think
of her, abased and brutalised as I have been by that Circean cup of
kisses, of enchantments, of which I have drunk! I am ch