I
count the hours which must pass till I see you. A short week, and then-
-"the day after to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow of that day," and
so I shall be able to reach forward to the Monday. It is strange that
the nearer Monday comes the more impatient I am.
March 3, 1837.
With what sickening fear I opened your letter! I was sure it contained
some dreadful news. You have decided not to come till Wednesday,
because your cousin Tom can accompany you on that day. I KNOW you are
quite right. It is so much better, as you are not strong, that Tom
should look after you, and it would be absurd that you should make the
journey two days before him. I should have reproved you seriously if
you had done anything so foolish. But those two days are hard to bear.
I shall not meet you at the coach, nor shall I be downstairs. Go
straight to the library; I shall be there by myself.
DIARY.
January 1, 1838.--Three days ago she died. Henceforth there is no
living creature to whom my existence is of any real importance.
Crippled as she was, she could never have married.
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