Monday.--Mr. Mandeville has asked several people in the country to dine here to-morrow, and there is to be a ball in the evening. Falkland is of course invited. We shall meet then, and how? I have been so little accustomed to disguise my feelings, that I quite tremble to meet him with so many witnesses around. Mr. Mandeville has been so harsh to me to-day; if Falkland ever looked at me so, or ever said one such word, my heart would indeed break. What is it Alfieri says about the two demons to whom he is for ever a prey? “_La mente e il cor in perpetua lite_.” Alas! at times I start from my reveries with such a keen sense of agony and shame! How, how am I fallen! Tuesday.--He is to come here to-day and I shall see him! Wednesday morning.--The night is over, thank Heaven! Falkland came late to dinner: every one else was assembled. How gracefully he entered! how superior he seemed to all the crowd that stood around him! He appeared as if he were resolved to exert powers which he had disdained before. He entered into the conversation, not only with such brilliancy, but with such a blandness and courtesy of manner! There was no scorn on his lip, no haughtiness on his forehead--nothing which showed him for a moment conscious of his immeasurable superiority over every one present. After dinner, as we retired, I caught his eyes. What volumes they told! and then I had to listen to his praises, and say nothing. I felt angry even in my pleasure. Who but I had a right to speak of him so well! The ball came on: I felt languid and dispirited. Falkland did not dance. He sat: himself by me--he urged me to--O God! O God! would that I were dead! FROM ERASMUS FALKLAND, ESQ., TO LADY EMILY MANDEVILLE.