have every
reason to be satisfied. Still is there something deeply wounding in all
this mysterious "consideration." It whispers to me of an interest in me
on the part of those who are ashamed to avow it,--of kind feelings held
in check by self-esteem. Good Heavens! what have _I_ done, that this
humiliation should be my portion? There is no need of any subtlety to
teach me what I am, and what the world insists I must remain. There is
no ambition I dare to strive for, no affection my heart may cherish, no
honorable contest I may engage in, but that the utterance of one fatal
word may not bar the gate against my entrance, and send me back in shame
and confusion. Had I of myself incurred this penalty, there would be in
me that stubborn sense of resistance that occurs to every one who counts
the gain and loss of all his actions; but I have not done so! In the
work of my own degradation I am blameless!

I have just been told that a certain Princess de Sabloukoff is to arrive
here this evening, and that I am to wait upon her immediately. Good
Heavens! can she be--? The thought has just struck me, and my head is
already wandering at the bare notion of it! How I pray that this may not
be so; my own shame is enough, and more than I can bear; but to witness
that of--I Can you tell me nothing of this? But even if you can, the
tidings will come too late; I shall have already seen her.

I am unable to write more now; my brain is burning, and my hand trembles
so that I cannot trace the letters. Adieu till this evening.

Midnight.

I was all in error, dear friend. I have seen her; for the last two hours
we have conversed together, and my suspicion had no foundation. She
evidently knows all my history, and almost gives me to believe that one
day or other I may stand free of this terrible shame that oppresses me.
If this were possible, what vengeance would be enough to wreak on those
who have thus practised on me? Can you imagine any vendetta that
would pay off the heart-corroding misery that has made my youth like
a sorrowful old age, dried up hope within me, made my ambition to be a
snare, and my love a mere mockery? I could spend a life in the search
after this revenge, and think it all too short to exhaust it!

I have much to tell you of this Princess, but I doubt if I can remember
it. Her manner meant so much, and yet so little; there was such elegance
of expression with such perfect ease,--so much of the _finest_ knowledge
o