me from this city, and for ever from your vicinity. For ever!—Ay, you are the only blessing for ever forbidden me. Wealth I may gain—a fair name—even glory—I may, perhaps, aspire to! to Heaven itself, I may find a path; but of you my very dreams cannot give me the shadow of a hope. I do not say, if you could pierce my soul while I write, that you would pity me. You may think it strange, but I would not have your pity for worlds; I think I would even rather have your hate—pity seems so much like contempt. But if you knew what an effort has enabled me to tame down my language, to curb my thoughts, to prevent me from embodying that which now makes my brain whirl, and my hand feel as if the living fire consumed it; if you knew what has enabled me to triumph over the madness at my heart, and spare you what, if writ or spoken, would seem like the ravings of insanity, you would not, and you could not despise me, though you might abhor.
"And now, heaven guard and bless you! No-
