I intended to have made some observations on the people, the aspect of the country, and other trifles; I scarcely now know what: but I have wandered into a subject so vast, so interesting, so sublime, that all petty individual remarks sink before it. Nor will I for the present blur the majesty of the picture, by ill-placed, mean, and discordant objects. Therefore, farewell. F. HENLEY P.S. Examine all I have said, and what I am going to add, relative to myself, with severity. Mine is a state of mind in which the jealous rigour of friendship appears to be essentially necessary. I have been seized with I know not what apprehensions, by some hints which she has two or three times lately repeated, concerning the brother of her dear and worthy friend, Louisa; who, it seems, is to give us the meeting at Paris. Is it not ominous? At least the manner in which she introduced the subject, and spoke of him, as well as the replies of Sir Arthur, were all of evil augury. Yet, why torment myself with imaginary terrors? Should the brother resemble the friend--! Well! What if he should? Would it grieve me to find another man of virtue and genius, because it is possible my personal interest might be affected by the discovery? No. My mind has still strength sufficient to reject, nay to contemn, so unworthy a thought. But he may be something very different! Love her he must: all who behold her love! The few words she has occasionally dropped, have led me to suspect 'more was meant than met the ear.' Whenever this chord is touched, my heart instantly becomes tremulous; and with sensibility so painful as fully to lay open its weakness; against which I must carefully and resolutely guard. It is these incongruous these jarring tokens that engender doubt, and suspense, almost insupportable. LETTER XXII _Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ _Pans, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude_, _Fauxbourg St. Germain_ The oddest and most unlucky accident imaginable, Louisa, has happened. Your brother and Frank have unfortunately half quarrelled, without knowing each other. I mentioned a giddiness with which I was seized; the consequence, as I suppose, of travelling. I was obliged to retire to my chamber; nay should have fallen as I went, but for Frank. I desired he would tell Laura not to disturb me; and he it seems planted himself sentinel, with a determination that neither Laura nor any other person should approach. I am too often in his thoughts: he is wrong to bestow so much of his time and attention on me. Sir Arthur was gone to look about him; having first sent a note, unknown to me, to inform your brother of our arrival; and requesting to see him, as soon as convenient. Away hurried your brother, at this mal apropos interval, with Sir Arthur's note in his pocket, to our hotel. He enquired for my father? He was gone out. For me? Laura answered she would call me.