rfully! It is the
combat with evil and bitter thoughts. They are such thoughts as
sometimes take expression, expression written in fire and blood. Then
are they read before the judgment-seat and condemned. In many human
hearts, however, they rage silently for long years; then are undermined
by degrees, health, temper, love, faith, faith in life and faith in--a
good God. With this sinks everything.

"Could I believe that my devoted, true pilgrimage by the side of a
husband whom I once so tenderly loved, and for whose sake I dragged on
life in the fortress of which he was the commander, in comparison of
which the life of the condemned criminal is joy; whom I followed
faithfully, though I no longer loved him, because it was needful to him;
because, without me, he would have been given over to dark
spirits--followed, because right and duty demanded it; because I had
promised it before God--Oh! could I believe that this fidelity had
operated beneficially--that my endeavours had borne any fruit--I should
not then, as now, ask 'why was I born? why have I lived?' But nothing,
nothing!

"Could I think that on the other side of the grave I should meet the
gentle loving look of my only sister--would I gladly die. But what
should I reply to her, if she asked after her child of sorrow? How would
she look upon the unfaithful protectress?

"Oh, my friend! My misfortune has nothing in common with that of
romances, nothing with that of which most the deep shades only serve to
set off the most beautiful lights. It is a wearisome winter twilight;
which only conducts to a deeper night. And am I alone in this condition?
Open the pages of history, look around you in the present day, and you
will see a thousand-fold sufferings, unmerited sufferings, which, after
a long agony lead--to despair. But another, a happier life! Only
consolation, only hope, only true point of light in the darkness of
earthly existence!--no, no! I will not abandon thee! I will trust in
thee; and in this belief will be silenced the murmurings which so often
arise against the Creator of the world.

"I am ill, and do not believe that I shall live over this winter.
Breathing is difficult to me; and perhaps the inexpressible heaviness
which burdens me may contribute to this torment. When I sit up sleepless
in my bed through the long nights, and see the night in myself, behind
me and before me, then dark, horrible phantasies surround me, and I
often think that insanity