- Project Runeberg -  Letters written during a short residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark /
109

(1889) [MARC] Author: Mary Wollstonecraft With: Henry Morley
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yet I was to enter without lighting up pleasure in any
eye. I dreaded the solitariness of my apartment, and
wished for night to hide the starting tears, or to shed
them on my pillow, and close my eyes on a world
where I was destined to wander alone. Why has
nature so many charms for me—calling forth and
cherishing refined sentiments, only to wound the breast
that fosters them? How illusive, perhaps the most so,
are the plans of happiness founded on virtue and
principle; what inlets of misery do they not open in a
half-civilised society? The satisfaction arising from
conscious rectitude, will not calm an injured heart,
when tenderness is ever finding excuses; and
self applause is a cold solitary feeling, that cannot supply
the place of disappointed affection, without throwing a
gloom over every prospect, which, banishing pleasure,
does not exclude pain. I reasoned and reasoned; but
my heart was too full to allow me to remain in the
house, and I walked, till I was wearied out, to purchase
rest—or rather forgetfulness.

Employment has beguiled this day, and to-morrow
I set out for Moss, on my way to Stromstad. At
Gothenburg I shall embrace my Fannikin ; probably
she will not know me again—and I shall be hurt if she
do not. How childish is this ! still it is a natural
feeling. I would not permit myself to indulge the
"thick coming fears" of fondness, whilst I was
detained by business. Yet I never saw a calf
bounding in a meadow, that did not remind me of my little
frolicker. A calf, you say. Yes; but a capital one
I own.

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