feed my eyes on the
handwriting--I examine the seal--I press it with my kisses, before I
indulge myself in the luxury of reading it. I then place it in my bosom,
and take it thence only to read it again and again,--to moisten it with
my tears of gratitude and love, and, alas! of penitence and remorse!
What can be the end of this affection? I dare neither to hope that it
may continue or that it may cease; in either case I am wretched for
ever!

Monday night, twelve o'clock.--They observe my paleness; the tears which
tremble in my eyes; the listlessness and dejection of my manner. I think
Mrs. Dalton guesses the cause. Humbled and debased in my own mind, I
fly, Falkland, for refuge to you! Your affection cannot raise me to my
former state, but it can reconcile--no--not reconcile, but support me in
my present. This dear letter, I kiss it again--oh! that to-morrow were
come!

Tuesday.--Another letter, so kind, so tender, so encouraging: would that
I deserved his praises! alas! I sin even in reading them. I know that
I ought to struggle more against my feelings--once I attempted it; I
prayed to Heaven to support me; I put away from me everything that could
recall him to my mind--for three days I would not open his letters. I
could then resist no longer; and my weakness became the more confirmed
from the feebleness of the struggle. I remember one day that he told us
of a beautiful passage in one of the ancients, in which the bitterest
curse against the wicked is, that they may see virtue, but not be able
to obtain it; [Persius]--that punishment is mine!

Wednesday.--My boy has been with me: I see him now from the windows
gathering the field-flowers, and running after every butterfly which
comes across him. Formerly he made all my delight and occupation; now
he is even dearer to me than ever; but he no longer engrosses all my
thoughts. I turn over the leaves of this journal; once it noted down the
little occurrences of the day; it marks nothing now but the monotony of
sadness. He is not here--he cannot come. What event then could I notice?

FROM ERASMUS FALKLAND, ESQ., TO LADY EMILY MANDEVILLE.

[Most of the letters from Falkland to Lady E. Mandeville
I have thought it expedient to suppress.]
--------- Park.

If you knew how I long, how I thirst, for one word from you--one word
to say you are well, and have not forgotten me!--but I will not distress
you. You will guess my feelings, and do justice to the restra