Move on, my quill! wait not for my guidance. Reanimated with thy
master's spirit, all airy light! A heyday rapture! A mounting impulse
sways him: lifts him from the earth.

I must, cost what it will, rein in this upward-pulling,
forward-going--what shall I call it? But there are times, and now is one
of them, when words are poor.

It will not do--down this hill, up that steep; through this thicket,
over that hedge--I have _laboured_ to fatigue myself: to reconcile me to
repose; to lolling on a sofa; to poring over a book, to any thing that
might win for my heart a respite from these throbs; to deceive me into a
few _tolerable_ moments of forgetfulness.

Let me see; they tell me this is Monday night. Only three days yet to
come! If thus restless to-day; if my heart thus bounds till its mansion
scarcely can hold it, what must be my state to-morrow! What next day!
What as the hour hastens on; as the sun descends; as my hand touches
hers in sign of wedded unity, of love without interval; of concord
without end!

I must quell these tumults. They will disable me else. They will wear
out all my strength. They will drain away life itself. But who could
have thought! So soon! Not three months since I first set eyes upon her.
Not three weeks since our plighted love, and only three days to
terminate suspense and give me _all_.

I must compel myself to quiet; to sleep. I must find some refuge from
anticipations so excruciating. All extremes are agonies. A joy like this
is too big for this narrow tenement. I must thrust it forth; I must bar
and bolt it out for a time, or these frail walls will burst asunder.
The pen is a pacifier. It checks the mind's career; it circumscribes her
wanderings. It traces out and compels us to adhere to one path. It ever
was my friend. Often it has blunted my vexations; hushed my stormy
passions; turned my peevishness to soothing; my fierce revenge to
heart-dissolving pity.

Perhaps it will befriend me now. It may temper my impetuous wishes; lull
my intoxication; and render my happiness supportable; and, indeed, it
has produced partly this effect already. My blood, within the few
minutes thus employed, flows with less destructive rapidity. My thoughts
range themselves in less disorder. And, now that the conquest is
effected, what shall I say? I must continue at the pen, or shall
immediately relapse.

What shall I say? Let me look back upon the steps that led me hither.
Let me recount the prelim