ined. I wish
it were clear!

"Do you know she is very lovely, this 'old flame' of my husband's, and
very brilliant. I fancy I am jealous of her. Last evening I went out to
a supper-party--the first for several years. I dressed myself with great
care, for I wished to please Ernst, and had flowers in my hair. I was
greatly satisfied with my appearance when I went. My husband was to come
later. I found Emelie already there; she was beautiful, and looked most
elegant. They placed me beside her; a looking-glass was before us, on
which I threw stolen glances, and saw opposite to me--a shadow! I
thought at first it was some illusion, and looked again: but again it
revealed unmercifully to me a pale ghost beside the beautiful and
dazzling Emelie. 'It is all over, irremediably over,' thought I, 'with
my youth and my bloom! But if my husband and children only can love me,
I can then resign youth and beauty.'

"But again I felt compelled to look at the shadow in the glass, and grew
quite melancholy. Emelie also cast glances at the mirror, and drew
comparisons, but with feelings far different to mine. Then came Ernst,
and I saw that he too made comparisons between us.

"He was, all this evening, very much occupied with Emelie. I felt unwell
and weak; I longed so to support myself on his arm; but he did not come
near me the whole time: perhaps he imagined I was out of
humour--perhaps I looked so. Ah! I returned home before supper, and he
remained. As I drove home through those deserted streets in the wretched
hackney-coach, a sense of misery came over my heart such as I cannot
describe; many a bitter thought was awakened within me, before which I
trembled.

"At the door of my own home I met Jacobi; he had sate up for me, and
wished to tell me something amusing about my children. He seemed to have
foreboded my feelings this evening. My favourite fruit, which he had
provided for me, should have refreshed me. His friendship and his
devotion cheered me. There is something so beautiful in feeling oneself
beloved.

* * * * *

"Every new emotion, every new connexion, among men, has its danger, its
temptation; the most beautiful, the most noble, may have their dangerous
tendency. Oh! how is this to be prevented without a separation?--how is
the poison to be avoided without deadening the sting? Oh, Cecilia! at
this moment I need a friend; I need you, to whom I could turn, and from
whom, in these disquie