think so of me!--It must be done!--Must!--Must!--

Indeed, Louisa, I could be a very woman--But I will not!--No, no!--It
is passed--I have put my handkerchief to my eyes and it is gone--I have
repressed an obstinate heaving of the heart--

Let her blame me, if I deserve it, but my Louisa must see me as I
am--Yet I will conquer--Be sure I will--But I must not sing his song
any more!

A. W. ST. IVES




LETTER XXXIX

_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_.

_Chateau de Villebrun_

Oh, my friend, my heart is torn! I am on the rack! My thoughts are all
tumult! My passions rebel! I seem to have yielded up the best
prerogative of man, reason; and to have admitted revolt, anarchy, and
desolation!

Her manner is changed! Wholly! She is become cold, reserved; has marked
me out for neglect; smiles on me no more; not a sigh escapes her. And
why? What have I done? I am unconscious. Have I been too presuming?
Perhaps so. But why did her looks never till now speak her meaning as