essed with an idea, which I at once
propounded to him. It was that he should at least consent to a form of
marriage with Caroline, in consideration of her love; a form which need
not be a legal union, but one which would satisfy her sick and enfeebled
soul. Such things have been done, and the sentiment of feeling herself
his would inexpressibly comfort her mind, I am sure. Then, if she is
taken from us, I should not have lost the power of becoming his lawful
wife at some future day, if it indeed should be deemed expedient; if, on
the other hand, she lives, he can on her recovery inform her of the
incompleteness of their marriage contract, the ceremony can be repeated,
and I can, and I am sure willingly would, avoid troubling them with my
presence till grey hairs and wrinkles make his unfortunate passion for me
a thing of the past. I put all this before him; but he demurred.

Sept. 30.--I have urged him again. He says he will consider. It is no
time to mince matters, and as a further inducement I have offered to
enter into a solemn engagement to marry him myself a year after her
death.

Sept. 30. Later.--An agitating interview. He says he will agree to
whatever I propose, the three possibilities and our contingent acts being
recorded as follows: First, in the event of dear Caroline being taken
from us, I marry him on the expiration of a year: Second, in the forlorn
chance of her recovery I take upon myself the responsibility of
explaining to Caroline the true nature of the ceremony he has gone
through with her, that it was done at my suggestion to make her happy at
once, before a special licence could be obtained, and that a public
ceremony at church is awaiting her: Third, in the unlikely event of her
cooling, and refusing to repeat the ceremony with him, I leave England,
join him abroad, and there wed him, agreeing not to live in England again
till Caroline has either married another or regards her attachment to
Charles as a bygone matter. I have thought over these conditions, and
have agreed to them all as they stand.

11 p.m.--I do not much like this scheme, after all. For one thing, I
have just sounded my father on it before parting with him for the night,
my impression having been that he would see no objection. But he says he
could on no account countenance any such unreal proceeding; however good
our intentions, and even though the poor girl were dying, it would not be
right. So I sadly seek my pill