Doubly unjust,
for my passion for her was a blessing to her as well as to me.
January 6th.--Henceforth I suppose I shall have to play with people, to
pretend to take an interest in their clothes and their parties, or, with
the superior sort, to discuss politics or books. I care nothing for
their rags or their gossip, for Lord Melbourne, Sir Robert Peel, or Mr.
James Montgomery. I must learn how to take the tip of a finger instead
of a hand, and to accept with gratitude comfits when I hunger for bread-
-I, who have known--but I dare say nothing even to myself of my hours
with him--I, who have heard Sophy cry out in the night for me; I, who
have held her hand and have prayed by her bedside.
January 10th.--I must be still. I have learned this lesson before--that
speech even to myself does harm. If I admit no conversation nor debate
with myself, I certainly will not admit the chatter of outsiders. Mr.
Maxwell called again to-day. "Not a syllable on that subject," said I
when he began in the usual strain. He then suggested that as this house
was too large for me, and must have what he called "melancholy
associations," I should move.
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