e　at　the　Post…office；　and　if　I　return　to　town　directly　as　I　fear；　I　will　leave　word　for　them　to　forward　the　letter　to　me　in　Londonnot　at　my　old　lodgings。　　I　will　not　go　back　there：　yet　how　can　I　breathe　away　from　her？　　Her　hatred　of　me　must　be　great；　since　my　love　of　her　could　not　overcome　it！　　I　have　finished　the　book　of　my　conversations　with　her；　which　I　told　you　of：　if　I　am　not　mistaken；　you　will　think　it　very　nice　reading。
  Yours　ever。
  Have　you　read　Sardanapalus？　　How　like　the　little　Greek　slave；　Myrrha；　is　to　HER！
  LETTER　IV
  （Written　in　the　Winter）
  My　good　Friend；　I　received　your　letter　this　morning；　and　I　kiss　the　rod　not　only　with　submission；　but　gratitude。　　Your　reproofs　of　me　and　your　defences　of　her　are　the　only　things　that　save　my　soul　from　perdition。　　She　is　my　heart's　idol；　and　believe　me　those　words　of　yours　applied　to　the　dear　saint〃To　lip　a　chaste　one　and　suppose　her　wanton〃were　balm　and　rapture　to　me。　　I　have　LIPPED　HER；　God　knows　how　often；　and　oh！　is　it　even　possible　that　she　is　chaste；　and　that　she　has　bestowed　her　loved　〃endearments〃　on　me　（her　own　sweet　word）　out　of　true　regard？　　That　thought；　out　of　the　lowest　depths　of　despair；　would　at　any　time　make　me　strike　my　forehead　against　the　stars。　　Could　I　but　think　the　love　〃honest；〃　I　am　proof　against　all　hazards。　　She　by　her　silence　makes　my　dark　hour；　and　you　by　your　encouragements　dissipate　it　for　twenty…four　hours。　　Another　thing　has　brought　me　to　life。　　Mrs。　…　is　actually　on　her　way　here　about　the　divorce。　　Should　this　unpleasant　business　（which　has　been　so　long　talked　of）　succeed；　and　I　should　become　free；　do　you　think　S。　L。　will　agree　to　change　her　name　to　…？　　If　she　WILL；　she　SHALL；　and　to　call　her　so　to　you；　or　to　hear　her　called　so　by　others；　would　be　music　to　my　ears；　such　as　they　never　drank　in。　　Do　you　think　if　she　knew　how　I　love　her；　my　depressions　and　my　altitudes；　my　wanderings　and　my　constancy；　it　would　not　move　her？　　She　knows　it　all；　and　if　she　is　not　an　INCORRIGIBLE；　she　loves　me；　or　regards　me　with　a　feeling　next　to　love。　　I　don't　believe　that　any　woman　was　ever　courted　more　passionately　than　she　has　been　by　me。　　As　Rousseau　said　of　Madame　d'Houptot　（forgive　the　allusion）　my　heart　has　found　a　tongue　in　speaking　to　her；　and　I　have　talked　to　her　the　divine　language　of　love。　　Yet　she　says；　she　is　insensible　to　it。　　Am　I　to　believe　her　or　you？　　Youfor　I　wish　it　and　wish　it　to　madness；　now　that　I　am　like　to　be　free；　and　to　have　it　in　my　power　to　say　to　her　without　a　possibility　of　suspicion；　〃Sarah；　will　you　be　mine？〃　　When　I　sometimes　think　of　the　time　I　first　saw　the　sweet　apparition；　August　16；　1820；　and　that　possibly　she　may　be　my　bride　before　that　day　two　years；　it　makes　me　dizzy　with　incredible　joy　and　love　of　her。　　Write　soon。
  LETTER　V
  My　dear　Friend；　I　read　your　answer　this　morning　with　gratitude。　　I　have　felt　somewhat　easier　since。　　It　shewed　your　interest　in　my　vexations；　and　also　that　you　know　nothing　worse　than　I　do。　　I　cannot　describe　the　weakness　of　mind　to　which　she　has　reduced　me。　　This　state　of　suspense　is　like　hanging　in　the　air　by　a　single　thread　that　exhausts　all　your　strength　to　keep　hold　of　it；　and　yet　if　that　fails　you；　you　have　nothing　in　the　world　else　left　to　trust　to。　　I　am　come　back　to　Edinburgh　about　this　cursed　business；　and　Mrs。　…　is　coming　from　Montrose　next　week。　　How　it　will　end；　I　can't　say；　and　don't　care；　except　as　it　regards　the　other　affair。　　I　should；　I　confess；　like　to　have　it　in　my　power　to　make　her　the　offer　direct　and　unequivocal；　to　see　how　she'd　receive　it。　　It　would　be　worth　something　at　any　rate　to　see　her　superfine　airs　upon　the　occasion；　and　if　she　should　take　it　into　her　head　to　turn　round　her　sweet　neck；　drop　her　eye…lids；　and　say〃Yes；　I　will　be　yours！〃why　then；　〃treason　domestic；　foreign　levy；　nothing　could　touch　me　further。〃　　By　Heaven！　I　doat　on　her。　　The　truth　is；　I　never　had　any　pleasure；　like　love；　with　any　one　but　her。　　Then　how　can　I　bear　to　part　with　her？　　Do　you　know　I　like　to　think　of　her　best　in　her　morning…gown　and　mob…capit　is　so　she　has　oftenest　come　into　my　room　and　enchanted　me！　　She　was　once　ill；　pale；　and　had　lost　all　her　freshness。　　I　only　adored　her　the　more　for　it；　and　fell　in　love　with　the　decay　of　her　beauty。　　I　could　devour　the　little　witch。　　If　she　had　a　plague…spot　on　her；　I　could　touch　the　infection：　if　she　was　in　a　burning　fever；　I　could　kiss　her；　and　drink　death　as　I　have　drank　life　from　her　lips。　　When　I　press　her　hand；　I　enjoy　perfect　happiness　and　contentment　of　soul。　　It　is　not　what　she　says　or　what　she　doesit　is　herself　that　I　love。　　To　be　with　her　is　to　be　at　peace。　　I　have　no　other　wish　or　desire。　　The　air　about　her　is　serene；　blissful；　and　he　who　breathes　it　is　like　one　of　the　Gods！　　So　that　I　can　but　have　her　with　me　always；　I　care　for　nothing　more。　　I　never　could　tire　of　her　sweetness；　I　feel　that　I　could　grow　to　her；　body　and　soul？　　My　heart；　my　heart　is　hers。
  LETTER　VI
  （Written　in　May）
  Dear　P；　What　have　I　suffered　since　I　parted　with　you！　　A　raging　fire　is　in　my　heart　and　in　my　brain；　that　never　quits　me。　　The　steam…boat　（which　I　foolishly　ventured　on　board）　seems　a　prison…house；　a　sort　of　spectre…ship；　moving　on　through　an　infernal　lake；　without　wind　or　tide；　by　some　necromantic　powerthe　splashing　of　the　waves；　the　noise　of　the　engine　gives　me　no　rest；　night　or　dayno　tree；　no　natural　object　varies　the　scenebut　the　abyss　is　before　me；　and　all　my　peace　lies　weltering　in　it！　　I　feel　the　eternity　of　punishment　in　this　life；　for　I　see　no　end　of　my　woes。　　The　people　about　me　are　ill；　uncomfortable；　wretched　enough；　many　of　thembut　to…morrow　or　next　day；　they　reach　the　place　of　their　destination；　and　all　will　be　new　and　delightful。　　To　me　it　will　be　the　same。　　I　can　neither　escape　from　her；　nor　from　myself。　　All　is　endurable　where　there　is　a　limit：　but　I　have　nothing　but　the　blackness　and　the　fiendishness　of　scorn　around　memocked　by　her　（the　false　one）　in　whom　I　placed　my　hope；　and　who　hardens　herself　against　me！I　believe　you　thought　me　quite　gay；　vain；　insolent；　half　mad；　the　night　I　left　the　houseno　tongue　can　tell　the　heaviness　of　heart　I　felt　at　that　moment。　　No　footsteps　ever　fell　more　slow；　more　sad　than　mine；　for　every　step　bore　me　farther　from　her；　with　whom　my　soul　and　every　thought　lingered。　　I　had　parted　with　her　in　anger；　and　each　had　spoken　words　of　high　disdain；　not　soon　to　be　forgiven。　　Should　I　ever　behold　her　again？　　Where　go　to　live　and　die　far　from　her？　　In　her　sight　there　was　Elysium；　her　smile　was　heaven；　her　voice　was　enchantment；　the　air　of　love　waved　round　her；　breathing　balm　into　my　heart：　for　a　little　while　I　had　sat　with　the　Gods　at　their　golden　tables；　I　had　tasted　of　all　earth's　bliss；　〃both　living　and　loving！〃　　But　now　Paradise　barred　its　doors　against　me；　I　was　driven　from　her　presence；　where　rosy　blushes　and　delicious　sighs　and　all　soft　wishes　dwelt；　the　outcast　of　nature　and　the　scoff　of　love！　　I　thought　of　the　time　when　I　was　a　little　happy　careless　child；　of　my　father's　house；　of　my　early　lessons；　of　my　brother's　picture　of　me　when　a　boy；　of　all　that　had　since　happened　to　me；　and　of　the　waste　of　years　to　comeI　stopped；　faultered；　and　was　going　to　turn　back　once　more　to　make　a　longer　truce　with　wretchedness　and　patch　up　a　hollow　league　with　love；　when　the　recollection　of　her　words〃I　always　told　you　I　had　no　affection　for　you〃steeled　my　resolution；　and　I　determined　to　proceed。　　You　see　by　this　she　always　hated　me；　and　only　played　with　my　credulity　till　she　could　find　some　one　to　supply　the　place　of　her　unalterable　attachment　to　THE　LITTLE　IMAGE。　*　*　*　*　*　I　am　a　little；　a　very　little　better　to…day。　　Would　it　were　quietly　over；　and　that　this　misshapen　form　（made　to　be　mocked）　were　hid　out　of　the　sight　of　cold；　sullen　eyes！　　The　people　about　me　even　take　notice　of　my　dumb　despair；　and　pity　me。　　What　is　to　be　done？　　I　cannot　forget　HER；　and　I　can　find　no　other　like　what　SHE　SEEMED。　　I　should　wish　you　to　call；　if　you　can　make　an　excuse；　and　see　whether　or　no　she　is　quite　marblewhether　I　may　go　back　again　at　my　return；　and　whether　she　will　see　me　and　talk　to　me　sometimes　as　an　old　friend。　　Suppose　you　were　to　call　on　M　from　me；　and　ask　him　what　his　impression　is　that　I　ought　to　do。　　But　do　as　you　think　best。　　Pardon；　pardon。
  P。S。I　send　this　from　Scarborough；　where　the　vessel　stops　for　a　few　minutes。　　I　scarcely　know　what　I　should　have　done；　but　for　this　relief　to　my　feelings。
  LETTER　VII
  My　dear　Friend；　The　important　step　is　taken；　and　I　am　virtually　a　free　man。　*　*　*　What　had　I　better　do　in　these　circumstances？　　I　dare　not　write　to　her；　I　dare　not　write　to　her　father；　or　else　I　would。　　She　has　shot　me　through　with　poisoned　arrows；　and　I　think　another　〃winged　wound　〃　would　finish　me。　　It　is　a　pleasant　sort　of　balm　（as　you　express　it）　she　has　left　in　my　heart！　　One　thing　I　agree　with　you　in；　it　will　remain　there　for　ever；　but　yet　not　very　long。　　It　festers；　and　consumes　me。　　If　it　were　not　for　my　little　boy；　whose　face　I　see　struck　blank　at　the　news；　looking　through　the　world　for　pity　and　meeting　with　contempt　instead；　I　should　soon；　I　fear；　settle　the　question　by　my　death。　　That　recollection　is　the　only　thought　that　brings　my　wandering　reason　to　an　anchor；