s for me, I daily o do so, I felt daily more and more t I must disoifle ies,  my tastes from t, force myself to tion of pursuits for ion. ed to train me to an elevation I could never reac racked me o aspire to tandard ed. to mould my irregular features to  and classic pattern, to give to my cint and solemn lustre of his own.

    Not  present. Of late it o look sad: a cankering evil sat at my  and drained my  its source—the evil of suspense.

    Perten Mr. Rocer, reader, amidst tune. Not for a moment. ill   a vapour sunsraced effigy storms could ablet, fated to last as long as t inscribed. to knoon, I re-entered my cottage every evening to t; and no Moor  my bedroom eac to brood over it.

    In t ter’s present residence and state of , as St. Joured, e ignorant of all concerning e to Mrs. Fairfax, entreating information on t. I ed ainty on tep ans sure it  an early ansonisnig reply; but er day t arrived and brougo t anxiety.

    I e again: t letter : it s, it faded, flickered: not a line, not a ancy, my , and t dark indeed.

    A fine spring s enjoy. Summer approacried to co accompany me to t. Jo  dissipation, I ed employment; my present life oo purposeless, I required an aim; and, I suppose, by anee, and gre in requiring t: and I, like a fool, never t of resisting  resist him.

    One day I o my studies in los tly felt disappointment. old me in tter for me, and o take it, almost certain t tidings , I found only an unimportant note from Mr. Briggs on business.