book if I would tell you all that moves me. But at the same time it appears to me that after this everything I can write to you is of no account, and besides you know it all. There is only one thing which I must tell you in order that you shall not misunderstand me.
"I have not taken this decision because I expect to be more happy with Stephensen than with you; on the contrary—no, it really is impossible to explain myself properly, still, after all, perhaps you have understood me. I mean to say that it is not regard for myself which has decided me, and—yes, I mean especially—(it was therefore I wrote 'on the contrary!') that if there were no past, no reproaches to be felt, or, in short, had it been something quite fresh that began, then I should have been much more certain of being happy with you than with him. But, do you see, now, as it is, I should not be able to make you happy, as you deserve. I should feel a traitor towards my first love. It is true that this feeling perhaps might cease; but circumstances might also arise that made it unnaturally intense, and with your tender loving nature you would in that case suffer terribly under it.
"Perhaps you think I start with over-strained ideas of Stephensen, when I fear to have too much to reproach myself with, if I leave him. Not at all! I know quite well that he will not do himself any harm, and that one would hardly be able to say that I even made him unhappy, though he really loves me passionately; but perhaps I should still do him irreparable harm. A nature like his is exposed to many dangers. It is difficult to make clear to you what I mean; I might easily seem vain, conceited, or overrate my influence—though no, you think much better of me than I deserve, perhaps you, in return, think
