same facility of expressing my thoughts; and my thoughts thou couldst
never blame, for I know that they are full of a love to thee
which--no--not the wisest--the most brilliant--whom thou mayest see could
equal even in imagination. But I have sought to mend this deficiency
since we parted; and I have looked into all the books thou hast loved to
read, and I fancy that I have imbibed now the same ideas which pleased
thee, and in which once thou imaginedst I could not sympathise. Yet how
mistaken thou hast been! I see, by marks thou hast placed on the page,
the sentiments that more especially charm thee; and I know that I have
felt them much, oh! how much more deeply and vividly than they are there
expressed--only they seem to me to have no language--methinks that I have
learned the language now. And I have taught myself songs that thou wilt
love to hear when thou returnest home to me; and I have practised music,
and I think--nay, I am sure, that time will not pass so heavily with thee
as when thou wast last here.

"And when shall I see thee again?--forgive me if I press thee to return.
Thou hast stayed away longer than thou hast been wont; but that I would
not heed; it is not the number of days, but the sensations with which I
have counted them, that make me pine for thy beloved voice, and long once
more to behold thee. Never before did I so feel thy absence, never before
was I so utterly wretched. A secret voice whispers me that we are parted
for ever. I cannot withstand the omens of my own heart. When my poor
father lived, I did not, child as I was, partake of those sentiments with
which he was wont to say the stars inspired us. I could not see in them
the boders of fear and the preachers of sad tidings; they seemed to me
only full of serenity and tenderness, and the promise of enduring love!
And ever when I looked on them, I thought of thee; and thy image to me
then, as thou knowest it was from childhood, was bright with unimaginable
but never melancholy spells. But now, although I love thee so far more