It was Susanna in a new character; I saw her in thought behind the letters as behind a balustrade.

In the afternoon I wrote underneath: "Look on the back of the post!" and there I wrote: "D.

is not angry with S.either." The next day Susanna was standing by the fence in the garden when I passed, but pretended not to see me; she probably repented having been so ready to make advances.
Although outwardly their relations were polite in the extreme, in reality my father's intercourse with the minister was from this time broken off; they never, except on special occasions and in response to a solemn invitation, set foot within one another's door.

This again gave a kind of clandestine character to the intercourse between me and Susanna.
No command was laid upon us, yet we only met, as it were, by stealth.
We were both lonely children.

Susanna sat at home, a prisoner to every-day tediousness, under her mother's watchful eye, and in my dreary home I always had a feeling of cold and fright, and as if all gladness were over with Susanna at the parsonage.