In her very first letter she besought Bertha not to suppose that her appreciation of strange and beautiful things meant forgetfulness of what must be a lifelong sorrow.

"I am often worse than depressed.

I sleep very badly, and in the night I often shed wretched tears.

Though I did only what conscience compelled me to do, I suffer all the miseries of remorse.
And how can I wish that it should be otherwise?
It is better, surely, to be capable of such suffering, than to go one's way in light-hearted egoism.

I'm not sure that I don't sometimes _encourage_ despondency.
You can understand that?
I know you can, dear Bertha, for many a time I have detected the deep feeling which lies beneath your joking way." Passages such as this Bertha was careful to omit when reading from the letters to her mother.