at the very
moment when I was ill, miserable, wasting my very heart, for anxiety on
his account,--and such a woman too! And had he loved me, even though his
letter was returned, would not his conscience have told him he deserved
it, and would he not have sought me out in person, and endeavoured to
win from my folly his forgiveness? But without attempting to see me, or
speak to me, or soothe a displeasure so natural, to leave the country
in silence, almost in disdain; and when we met again, to greet me with
coldness and hauteur, and never betray, by word, sign, or look, that he
had ever been to me more than the merest stranger! Fool! Fool! that I
am, to waste another thought upon him; but I will not, and ought not to
do so. In two months I shall not even have the privilege of remembrance.

I wish, Eleanor,--for I assure you that I have tried and tried,--that
I could find anything to like and esteem (since love is out of the
question) in this man, who seems so great, and, to me, so unaccountable
a favourite with my parents. His countenance and voice are so harsh
and stern; his manner at once so self-complacent and gloomy; his very
sentiments so narrow, even in their notions of honour; his very courage
so savage, and his pride so constant and offensive,--that I in vain
endeavour to persuade myself of his virtues, and recur, at least, to the
unwearying affection for me which he professes. It is true that he has
been three times refused; that I have told him I cannot love him; that I
have even owned former love to another: he still continues his suit,
and by dint of long hope has at length succeeded. But at times I could
almost think that he married me from very hate, rather than love: there
is such an artificial smoothness in his stern voice, such a latent
meaning in his eye; and when he thinks I have not noticed him, I have,
on suddenly turning towards him, perceived so dark and lowering an
expression upon his countenance that my heart has died within me for
very fear.

Had my mother been the least less kind, my father the least less urgent,
I think, nay, I know, I could not have gained such a victory over myself
as I have done in consenting to the day. But enough of this. I did not
think I should have run on so long and so foolishly; but we, dearest,
have been children and girls and women together: we have loved each
other with such fondness and unreserve that opening my heart to you
seems only another phrase for thinki