ountry, and Gertrude and her father were
my only neighbours, I was in that state of mind in which the passions,
recruited by solitude, are accessible to the purer and more divine
emotions. I was struck by Gertrude's beauty, I was charmed by
her simplicity. Worn in the usages and fashions of the world, the
inexperience, the trustfulness, the exceeding youth of her mind, charmed
and touched me; but when I saw the stamp of our national disease in
her bright eye and transparent cheek, I felt my love chilled while my
interest was increased. I fancied myself safe, and I went daily into the
danger; I imagined so pure a light could not burn, and I was consumed.
Not till my anxiety grew into pain, my interest into terror, did I know
the secret of my own heart; and at the moment that I discovered this
secret, I discovered also that Gertrude loved me! What a destiny was
mine! what happiness, yet what misery! Gertrude was my own--but for what
period? I might touch that soft hand, I might listen to the tenderest
confession from that silver voice; but all the while my heart spoke of
passion, my reason whispered of death. You know that I am considered
of a cold and almost callous nature, that I am not easily moved into
affection; but my very pride bowed me here into weakness. There was so
soft a demand upon my protection, so constant an appeal to my anxiety.
You know that my father's quick temper burns within me, that I am hot,
and stern, and exacting; but one hasty word, one thought of myself,
here were inexcusable. So brief a time might be left for her earthly
happiness,--could I embitter one moment? All that feeling of uncertainty
which should in prudence have prevented my love, increased it almost to
a preternatural excess. That which it is said mothers feel for an only
child in sickness, I feel for Gertrude. _My_ existence is not!--I exist
in her!

Her illness increased upon her at home; they have recommended travel.
She chose the course we were to pursue, and, fortunately, it was so
familiar to me, that I have been enabled to brighten the way. I am ever
on the watch that she shall not know a weary hour; you would almost
smile to see how I have roused myself from my habitual silence, and to
find me--me, the scheming and worldly actor of real life--plunged back
into the early romance of my boyhood, and charming the childish delight
of Gertrude with the invention of fables and the traditions of the
Rhine.

But I believe that I ha