has been my only companion; I have it before me now, and it is open at a
page which is yet blistered with the traces of former tears.




CHAPTER LXVIII.

Our mistress is a little given to philosophy:
what disputations shall we have here by and by!
--Gil Blas.

It was now but seldom that I met Ellen, for I went little into general
society, and grew every day more engrossed in political affairs.
Sometimes, however, when, wearied of myself, and my graver occupations, I
yielded to my mother's solicitations, and went to one of the nightly
haunts of the goddess we term Pleasure, and the Greeks, Moria, the game
of dissipation (to use a Spanish proverb) shuffled us together. It was
then that I had the most difficult task of my life to learn and to
perform; to check the lip--the eye--the soul--to heap curb on curb, upon
the gushings of the heart, which daily and hourly yearned to overflow;
and to feel, that while the mighty and restless tides of passion were
thus fettered and restrained, all within was a parched and arid
wilderness, that wasted itself, for want of very moisture, away. Yet
there was something grateful in the sadness with which I watched her form
in the dance, or listened to her voice in the song; and I felt soothed,
and even happy, when my fancy flattered itself, that her step never now
seemed so light, as it was wont to be when in harmony with mine, nor the
songs that pleased her most, so gay as those that were formerly her
choice.