me happy! For my part I do not think of it
either; I simply understand that you _are_ my happiness, and that
therefore you could not make another happiness for me, such as would
be worth having--not even _you_! Why, how could you? _That_ was in my
mind to speak yesterday, but I could not speak it--to write it, is
easier.

Talking of happiness--shall I tell you? Promise not to be angry and I
will tell you. I have thought sometimes that, if I considered myself
wholly, I should choose to die this winter--now--before I had
disappointed you in anything. But because you are better and dearer
and more to be considered than I, I do _not_ choose it. I _cannot_
choose to give you any pain, even on the chance of its being a less
pain, a less evil, than what may follow perhaps (who can say?), if I
should prove the burden of your life.

For if you make me happy with some words, you frighten me with
others--as with the extravagance yesterday--and seriously--_too_
seriously, when the moment for smiling at them is past--I am
frightened, I tremble! When you come to know me as well as I know
myself, what can save me, do you think, from disappointing and
displeasing you? I ask the question, and find no answer.

It is a poor answer, to say that I can do one thing well ... that I
have one capacity largely. On points of the general affections, I have
in thought applied to myself the words of Mme. de Stael, not
fretfully, I hope, not complainingly, I am sure (I can thank God for
most affectionate friends!) not complainingly, yet mournfully and in
profound conviction--those words--'_jamais je n'ai pas ete aimee comme
j'aime_.' The capacity of loving is the largest of my powers I
think--I thought so before knowing you--and one form of feeling. And
although any woman might love you--_every_ woman,--with understanding
enough to discern you by--(oh, do not fancy that I am unduly
magnifying mine office) yet I persist in persuading myself that!
Because I have the capacity, as I said--and besides I owe more to you
than others could, it seems to me: let me boast of it. To many, you
might be better than all things while one of all things: to me you are
instead of all--to many, a crowning happiness--to me, the happiness
itself. From out of the deep dark pits men see the stars more
gloriously--and _de profundis amavi_--

It is a very poor answer! Almost as poor an answer as yours could be
if I were to ask you to teach me to please you always; or rat