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Falkland, Book 3. by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
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By Edward Bulwer-Lytton



Friday.--Julia is here, and so kind! She has not mentioned his name, but
she sighed so deeply when she saw my pale and sunken countenance, that I
threw myself into her arms and cried like a child. We had no need of
other explanation: those tears spoke at once my confession and my
repentance. No letter from him for several days! Surely he is not ill!
how miserable that thought makes me!

Saturday.--A note has just been brought me from him. He is come
back-here! Good heavens! how very imprudent! I am so agitated that I
can write no more.

Sunday.--I have seen him! Let me repeat that sentence--I have seen him.
Oh that moment! did it not atone for all that I have suffered? I dare
not write everything he said, but he wished me to fly with him--him--what
happiness, yet what guilt, in the very thought! Oh! this foolish heart
--would that it might break! I feel too well the sophistry of his
arguments, and yet I cannot resist them. He seems to have thrown a spell
over me, which precludes even the effort to escape.

Monday.--Mr. Mandeville has asked several people in the country to dine
here to-morrow, and there is to be a ball in the evening. Falkland is of