painful state of irritation—I suffered more than I can express—Society was necessary—and might have diverted me till I gained more strength; but I blushed when I recollected how often I had teazed you with childish complaints, and the reveries of a disordered imagination. I even imagined that I intruded on you, because you never called on me—though you perceived that I was not well.—I have nourished a sickly kind of delicacy, which gives me many unnecessary pangs.—I acknowledge that life is but a jest—and often a frightful dream—yet catch myself every day searching for something serious—and feel real misery from the disappointment. I am a strange compound of weakness and resolution! However, if I must suffer, I will endeavour to suffer in silence.
