and I was blinded like him—indifference and interest were so nicely blended. Now I was chilled by careless coldness—now transported by some slight mark of preference, so slight that only passion could have interpreted it into hope. The very ruin in which my love was involving me, only made it more intense: and ruin, indeed, to me was its engrossment and its idleness.
"Utterly dependent on my own mental exertions, what could I do with my mind such a chaos? Day after day I was importuned to fulfil engagements I had no longer the power of completing. My thoughts, like rebel subjects, disowned my authority—I could concentrate my attention only on one object—Laura. Perhaps the desperation of my circumstances communicated itself to my feelings—I believe Mrs. Herbert feared the passion she had inspired. She shrank from the explanation sudden coldness might have brought on, and tried raillery. Constancy, romance, or enthusiasm, were the recurring objects of her sarcasm.
"One evening, when the large party met at her house had diminished to a small and somewhat confidential group, I remember her saying, as she flung down, disdainfully, a little engraving from a gem—a bird clinging to a leafless bough, with its well-known motto, 'Faithful even unto death'—'Well, fine words are like fine clothes, they make a great deal out of nothing. I often think' (turning to me) 'of the profane speech of the Cardinal, who
