them on Christmas Day. "You shall
have a gift too," she said, "if you behave well." "And what do you call
behaving well?" I asked. "What should I do; what can I do?" "Thursday
night," she answered, "is Christmas Eve; the children are all to be
here, and my father too; there is a present for each of them. Do you
come likewise, but do not come before that time!"

I started. She must have seen my emotion, for she continued, hastily "I
desire that you will not. It must be so; I ask it of you as a favour,
for my own peace and tranquillity. We cannot go on in this manner any
longer!" It were idle to attempt to describe my emotions I was as if
paralysed; it was as if the sun had suddenly gone out. When I
recollected myself, Charlotte was trying to speak on some indifferent
topic. "No, Charlotte," I explained, "I understand you perfectly. I will
never see you again!"

_December 22_. It is all over, Charlotte; I am resolved to die. I make
this declaration deliberately and coolly, without any romantic passion,
on the morning of the day when I am to see you for the last time. At the
moment that you read these lines the cold grave will hold the remains of
that restless and unhappy being who, in his last moments of existence,
knew no pleasure so great as that of conversing with you.

When I tore myself from you yesterday my senses were in tumult and
disorder. I could scarcely reach my room. A thousand ideas floated
through my mind. At last one fixed, final thought took possession of my
heart. It was to die. Oh, beloved Charlotte, this heart, excited by rage
and fury, has often conceived the horrid idea of murdering your
husband--you--myself.

What do they mean by saying that Albert is your husband? He may be so
for this world, and in this world it is a sin to love you--to wish to
tear you from his embrace. Yes, it is a crime, and I suffer the
punishment--but I have enjoyed the full delight of my sin. I have
inhaled a balm that has revived my soul; from this hour you are mine;
yes, Charlotte, you are mine. I do not dream, I do not rave. Drawing
nearer to the grave my perceptions become clearer. We shall exist; we
shall see each other again.

I wish to be buried in the dress I wear at present; it has been made
sacred by your touch. How warmly I have loved you, Charlotte. Since the
first hour I saw you, how impossible have I found it to leave you. This
ribbon must be buried with me; it was a present from you on my birthday.
How c