ss to
misery; how that for me there was no joy, no hope; that death however
bitter would be the welcome seal to all my pangs; death the skeleton
was to be beautiful as love. I know not why but I found it sweet to
utter these words to human ears; and though I derided all consolation
yet I was pleased to see it offered me with gentleness and kindness. I
listened quietly, and when he paused would again pour out my misery in
expressions that shewed how far too deep my wounds were for any cure.

But now also I began to reap the fruits of my perfect solitude. I had
become unfit for any intercourse, even with Woodville the most gentle
and sympathizing creature that existed. I had become captious and
unreasonable: my temper was utterly spoilt. I called him my friend but
I viewed all he did with jealous eyes. If he did not visit me at the
appointed hour I was angry, very angry, and told him that if indeed he
did feel interest in me it was cold, and could not be fitted for me, a
poor worn creature, whose deep unhappiness demanded much more than his
worldly heart could give. When for a moment I imagined that his manner
was cold I would fretfully say to him--"I was at peace before you
came; why have you disturbed me? You have given me new wants and now
your trifle with me as if my heart were as whole as yours, as if I
were not in truth a shorn lamb thrust out on the bleak hill side,
tortured by every blast. I wished for no friend, no sympathy[.] I
avoided you, you know I did, but you forced yourself upon me and gave
me those wants which you see with triump[h] give you power over me. Oh
the brave power of the bitter north wind which freezes the tears it
has caused to shed! But I will not bear this; go: the sun will rise
and set as before you came, and I shall sit among the pines or wander
on the heath weeping and complaining without wishing for you to
listen. You are cruel, very cruel, to treat me who bleed at every pore
in this rough manner."[61]

And then, when in answer to my peevish words, I saw his countenance
bent with living pity on me[,] when I saw him

Gli occhi drizzo ver me con quel sembiante
Che madre fa sopra figlioul deliro P[a]radiso. C 1.[62]

I wept and said, "Oh, pardon me! You are good and kind but I am not
fit for life. Why am I obliged to live? To drag hour after hour, to
see the trees wave their branches restlessly, to feel the air, & to
suffer in all I feel keenest agony. My frame is strong, but