ears against such whisperings as now I listen to.

I must fight this. Doubt is Love's murderer.


_June 6th._--Constance should not have said that; there was no need.
Why have I come upstairs and left them together? I am raving mad.
And now to cry like a baby! I have cried every day for five days;
this is monstrous! I think that if some one came and whipped me, I
might feel better. This is some sickness, surely; relaxed nerves,
quick blood. I shall write it all down carefully, calling on what
sense I have left to be judge. Of course the judge will laugh. But
first I will wash my face.

In the beginning, Constance said she was not sure she liked him. Let
me remember his first words about her, the day after her arrival. I
brought him into the drawing-room, and put his hand into hers,
saying, "Here is your friend."

He was very shy, and hardly looked at her. "We are meeting under
inauspicious circumstances, Mrs. Norris," said he. "We have heard so
much about each other that I, at least, cannot reconcile the
strangeness of your person with the intimate affection I have so
long had for you in my thoughts."

Constance laughed.

"It _is_ funny, isn't it?" said she. "I know what you mean. I
thought I knew you quite well, and you're not at all the sort of
person I thought you were."