n　by　my　death。　　That　recollection　is　the　only　thought　that　brings　my　wandering　reason　to　an　anchor；　that　stirs　the　smallest　interest　in　me；　or　gives　me　fortitude　to　bear　up　against　what　I　am　doomed　to　feel　for　the　ungrateful。　　Otherwise；　I　am　dead　to　every　thing　but　the　sense　of　what　I　have　lost。　　She　was　my　lifeit　is　gone　from　me；　and　I　am　grown　spectral！　　If　I　find　myself　in　a　place　I　am　acquainted　with；　it　reminds　me　of　her；　of　the　way　in　which　I　thought　of　her；
  〃and　carved　on　every　tree　The　soft；　the　fair；　the　inexpressive　she！〃
  If　it　is　a　place　that　is　new　to　me；　it　is　desolate；　barren　of　all　interest；　for　nothing　touches　me　but　what　has　a　reference　to　her。　　If　the　clock　strikes；　the　sound　jars　me；　a　million　of　hours　will　not　bring　back　peace　to　my　breast。　　The　light　startles　me；　the　darkness　terrifies　me。　　I　seem　falling　into　a　pit；　without　a　hand　to　help　me。　　She　has　deceived　me；　and　the　earth　fails　from　under　my　feet；　no　object　in　nature　is　substantial；　real；　but　false　and　hollow；　like　her　faith　on　which　I　built　my　trust。　　She　came　（I　knew　not　how）　and　sat　by　my　side　and　was　folded　in　my　arms；　a　vision　of　love　and　joy；　as　if　she　had　dropped　from　the　Heavens　to　bless　me　by　some　especial　dispensation　of　a　favouring　Providence；　and　make　me　amends　for　all；　and　now　without　any　fault　of　mine　but　too　much　fondness；　she　has　vanished　from　me；　and　I　am　left　to　perish。　　My　heart　is　torn　out　of　me；　with　every　feeling　for　which　I　wished　to　live。　　The　whole　is　like　a　dream；　an　effect　of　enchantment；　it　torments　me；　and　it　drives　me　mad。　　I　lie　down　with　it；　I　rise　up　with　it；　and　see　no　chance　of　repose。　　I　grasp　at　a　shadow；　I　try　to　undo　the　past；　and　weep　with　rage　and　pity　over　my　own　weakness　and　misery。　　I　spared　her　again　and　again　（fool　that　I　was）　thinking　what　she　allowed　from　me　was　love；　friendship；　sweetness；　not　wantonness。　　How　could　I　doubt　it；　looking　in　her　face；　and　hearing　her　words；　like　sighs　breathed　from　the　gentlest　of　all　bosoms？　　I　had　hopes；　I　had　prospects　to　come；　the　flattery　of　something　like　fame；　a　pleasure　in　writing；　health　even　would　have　come　back　with　her　smileshe　has　blighted　all；　turned　all　to　poison　and　childish　tears。　　Yet　the　barbed　arrow　is　in　my　heartI　can　neither　endure　it；　nor　draw　it　out；　for　with　it　flows　my　life's…blood。　　I　had　conversed　too　long　with　abstracted　truth　to　trust　myself　with　the　immortal　thoughts　of　love。　　THAT　S。　L。　MIGHT　HAVE　BEEN　MINE；　AND　NOW　NEVER　CANthese　are　the　two　sole　propositions　that　for　ever　stare　me　in　the　face；　and　look　ghastly　in　at　my　poor　brain。　　I　am　in　some　sense　proud　that　I　can　feel　this　dreadful　passionit　gives　me　a　kind　of　rank　in　the　kingdom　of　lovebut　I　could　have　wished　it　had　been　for　an　object　that　at　least　could　have　understood　its　value　and　pitied　its　excess。　　You　say　her　not　coming　to　the　door　when　you　went　is　a　proofyes；　that　her　complement　is　at　present　full！　　That　is　the　reason　she　doesn't　want　me　there；　lest　I　should　discover　the　new　affairwretch　that　I　am！　　Another　has　possession　of　her；　oh　Hell！　　I'm　satisfied　of　it　from　her　manner；　which　had　a　wanton　insolence　in　it。　　Well　might　I　run　wild　when　I　received　no　letters　from　her。　　I　foresaw；　I　felt　my　fate。　　The　gates　of　Paradise　were　once　open　to　me　too；　and　I　blushed　to　enter　but　with　the　golden　keys　of　love！　　I　would　die；　but　her　lovermy　love　of　herought　not　to　die。　　When　I　am　dead；　who　will　love　her　as　I　have　done？　　If　she　should　be　in　misfortune；　who　will　comfort　her？　　when　she　is　old；　who　will　look　in　her　face；　and　bless　her？　　Would　there　be　any　harm　in　calling　upon　M；　to　know　confidentially　if　he　thinks　it　worth　my　while　to　make　her　an　offer　the　instant　it　is　in　my　power？　　Let　me　have　an　answer；　and　save　me；　if　possible；　FOR　her　and　FROM　myself。
  LETTER　VIII
  My　dear　Friend；　Your　letter　raised　me　for　a　moment　from　the　depths　of　despair；　but　not　hearing　from　you　yesterday　or　to…day　（as　I　hoped）　I　have　had　a　relapse。　　You　say　I　want　to　get　rid　of　her。　　I　hope　you　are　more　right　in　your　conjectures　about　her　than　in　this　about　me。　　Oh　no！　believe　it；　I　love　her　as　I　do　my　own　soul；　my　very　heart　is　wedded　to　her　（be　she　what　she　may）　and　I　would　not　hesitate　a　moment　between　her　and　〃an　angel　from　Heaven。〃　　I　grant　all　you　say　about　my　self…tormenting　folly：　but　has　it　been　without　cause？　　Has　she　not　refused　me　again　and　again　with　a　mixture　of　scorn　and　resentment；　after　going　the　utmost　lengths　with　a　man　for　whom　she　now　disclaims　all　affection；　and　what　security　can　I　have　for　her　reserve　with　others；　who　will　not　be　restrained　by　feelings　of　delicacy　towards　her；　and　whom　she　has　probably　preferred　to　me　for　their　want　of　it。　　〃SHE　CAN　MAKE　NO　MORE　CONFIDENCES〃these　words　ring　for　ever　in　my　ears；　and　will　be　my　death…watch。　　They　can　have　but　one　meaning；　be　sure　of　itshe　always　expressed　herself　with　the　exactest　propriety。　　That　was　one　of　the　things　for　which　I　loved　hershall　I　live　to　hate　her　for　it？　　My　poor　fond　heart；　that　brooded　over　her　and　the　remains　of　her　affections　as　my　only　hope　of　comfort　upon　earth；　cannot　brook　this　new　degradation。　　Who　is　there　so　low　as　me？　　Who　is　there　besides　（I　ask）　after　the　homage　I　have　paid　her　and　the　caresses　she　has　lavished　on　me；　so　vile；　so　abhorrent　to　love；　to　whom　such　an　indignity　could　have　happened？　　When　I　think　of　this　（and　I　think　of　nothing　else）　it　stifles　me。　　I　am　pent　up　in　burning；　fruitless　desires；　which　can　find　no　vent　or　object。　　Am　I　not　hated；　repulsed；　derided　by　her　whom　alone　I　love　or　ever　did　love？　　I　cannot　stay　in　any　place；　and　seek　in　vain　for　relief　from　the　sense　of　her　contempt　and　her　ingratitude。　　I　can　settle　to　nothing：　what　is　the　use　of　all　I　have　done？　　Is　it　not　that　very　circumstance　（my　thinking　beyond　my　strength；　my　feeling　more　than　I　need　about　so　many　things）　that　has　withered　me　up；　and　made　me　a　thing　for　Love　to　shrink　from　and　wonder　at？　　Who　could　ever　feel　that　peace　from　the　touch　of　her　dear　hand　that　I　have　done；　and　is　it　not　torn　from　me　for　ever？　　My　state　is　this；　that　I　shall　never　lie　down　again　at　night　nor　rise　up　in　the　morning　in　peace；　nor　ever　behold　my　little　boy's　face　with　pleasure　while　I　liveunless　I　am　restored　to　her　favour。　　Instead　of　that　delicious　feeling　I　had　when　she　was　heavenly…kind　to　me；　and　my　heart　softened　and　melted　in　its　own　tenderness　and　her　sweetness；　I　am　now　inclosed　in　a　dungeon　of　despair。　　The　sky　is　marble　to　my　thoughts；　nature　is　dead　around　me；　as　hope　is　within　me；　no　object　can　give　me　one　gleam　of　satisfaction　now；　nor　the　prospect　of　it　in　time　to　come。　　I　wander　by　the　sea…side；　and　the　eternal　ocean　and　lasting　despair　and　her　face　are　before　me。　　Slighted　by　her；　on　whom　my　heart　by　its　last　fibre　hung；　where　shall　I　turn？　　I　wake　with　her　by　my　side；　not　as　my　sweet　bedfellow；　but　as　the　corpse　of　my　love；　without　a　heart　in　her　bosom；　cold；　insensible；　or　struggling　from　me；　and　the　worm　gnaws　me；　and　the　sting　of　unrequited　love；　and　the　canker　of　a　hopeless；　endless　sorrow。　　I　have　lost　the　taste　of　my　food　by　feverish　anxiety；　and　my　favourite　beverage；　which　used　to　refresh　me　when　I　got　up；　has　no　moisture　in　it。　　Oh！　cold；　solitary；　sepulchral　breakfasts；　compared　with　those　which　I　promised　myself　with　her；　or　which　I　made　when　she　had　been　standing　an　hour　by　my　side；　my　guardian…angel；　my　wife；　my　sister；　my　sweet　friend；　my　Eve；　my　all；　and　had　blest　me　with　her　seraph　kisses！　　Ah！　what　I　suffer　at　present　only　shews　what　I　have　enjoyed。　　But　〃the　girl　is　a　good　girl；　if　there　is　goodness　in　human　nature。〃　　I　thank　you　for　those　words；　and　I　will　fall　down　and　worship　you；　if　you　can　prove　them　true：　and　I　would　not　do　much　less　for　him　that　proves　her　a　demon。　　She　is　one　or　the　other；　that's　certain；　but　I　fear　the　worst。　　Do　let　me　know　if　anything　has　passed：　suspense　is　my　greatest　punishment。　　I　am　going　into　the　country　to　see　if　I　can　work　a　little　in　the　three　weeks　I　have　yet　to　stay　here。　　Write　on　the　receipt　of　this；　and　believe　me　ever　your　unspeakably　obliged　friend。
  TO　EDINBURGH
  〃Stony…hearted〃　Edinburgh！　　What　art　thou　to　me？　　The　dust　of　thy　streets　mingles　with　my　tears　and　blinds　me。　　City　of　palaces；　or　of　tombsa　quarry；　rather　than　the　habitation　of　men！　　Art　thou　like　London；　that　populous　hive；　with　its　sunburnt；　well…baked；　brick…built　housesits　public　edifices；　its　theatres；　its　bridges；　its　squares；　its　ladies；　and　its　pomp；　its　throng　of　wealth；　its　outstretched　magnitude；　and　its　mighty　heart　that　never　lies　still？　　Thy　cold　grey　walls　reflect　back　the　leaden　melancholy　of　the　soul。　　The　square；　hard…edged；　unyielding　faces　of　thy　inhabitants　have　no　sympathy　to　impart。　　What　is　it　to　me　that　I　look　along　the　level　line　of　thy　tenantless　streets；　and　meet　perhaps　a　lawyer　like　a　grasshopper　chirping　and　skipping；　or　the　daughter　of　a　Highland　laird；　haughty；　fair；　and　freckled？　　Or　why　should　I　look　down　your　boasted　Prince's　Street；　with　the　beetle…browed　Castle　on　one　side；　and　the　Calton　Hill　with　its　proud　monument　at　the　further　end；　and　the　ridgy　steep　of　Salisbury　Crag；　cut　off　abruptly　by　Nature's　boldest　hand；　and　Arthur's　Seat　overlooking　all；　like　a　lioness　watching　her　cubs？　　Or　shall　I　turn　to　the　far…off　Pentland　Hills；　wit