thy friend, if, owing to fortune or through thine own fault, thou
canst not find a dearer companion.

BOOK I

MAY 4.

How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing is
the heart of man! To leave you, from whom I have been inseparable,
whom I love so dearly, and yet to feel happy! I know you will
forgive me. Have not other attachments been specially appointed
by fate to torment a head like mine? Poor Leonora! and yet I was
not to blame. Was it my fault, that, whilst the peculiar charms
of her sister afforded me an agreeable entertainment, a passion
for me was engendered in her feeble heart? And yet am I wholly
blameless? Did I not encourage her emotions? Did I not feel
charmed at those truly genuine expressions of nature, which, though
but little mirthful in reality, so often amused us? Did I not --
but oh! what is man, that he dares so to accuse himself? My dear
friend I promise you I will improve; I will no longer, as has ever
been my habit, continue to ruminate on every petty vexation which
fortune may dispense; I will enjoy the present, and the past shall
be for me the past. No doubt you are right, my best of friends,
there would be far less suffering amongst mankind, if men -- and
God knows why they are so fashioned -- did not employ their
imaginations so assiduously in recalling the memory of past sorrow,
instead of bearing their present lot with equanimity. Be kind
enough to inform my mother that I shall attend to her business to
the best of my ability, and shall give her the earliest information
about it. I have seen my aunt, and find that she is very far from