“I resolved on civil indifference towards you; and, at the beginning, it was easy enough to keep to my resolution, although from the first, your conduct astonished, and consequently interested me. I expected reproaches, sullenness, or childish repinings, and complaint, but found sweetness, good sense, and delicacy. Emmeline! I could swear that you never in your life suffered as I did that morning after our marriage, when I had to encounter you in the breakfast-room. You held out your hand to me—there was a smile on your face, that went to my heart as a dagger. That day however over, my thoughts and feelings returned into their former channel, and I was so entirely engrossed by them, that my remorse died away. I persuaded myself I behaved vastly well to you, and that you thoroughly deserved that fate which you had brought on yourself. The civil indifference which I determined to maintain in my conduct towards you, soon, however, became difficult to pursue. There was sometimes an archness in your smiles—in your look and manner—an appearance of reading my thoughts, and laughing at the awkward situation in which I had placed myself, that piqued me, and made me almost in awe of you. I was often, too, I am ashamed to say it, provoked with you for your patient good humour, for not seeming to feel my abominable conduct towards you more. But, at others, I found _you_ whom I had resolved to disregard—to dislike—to my surprise, I found you (forgive the seeming impertinence of the expression) a most intelligent, conversible companion; and more than once I caught myself owning how agreeable you were. “But, although such thoughts at times occupied me, still my affections were so strongly engaged—my whole soul so enthralled by mad passion, that they were but passing thoughts; the impression, as yet, was not deep. I then left home for some time, and returned to you with all my old feelings strengthened. I had renewed all my vows of constancy, of fidelity to another, perfectly regardless of the solemn, sacred engagement, into which I had entered with you—(profligate, unprincipled villain that I was!) Wishing to avoid, in future, the possibility of a _tête-à-tête_ with you, I had invited several friends to meet me at Arlingford, on my return there. I thought that by that means, we might avoid even the common intimacy produced by living under the same roof, and meeting daily, as I flattered myself that you would be lost in the mass. But that plan failed. I heard your name, your praises, from every one, and every where. Your voice always attracted my attention, and the very resolution to slight, and dislike you, made me constantly occupied about you.