When he conversed with me his manner was cold and constrained; his eyes only seemed to speak, and as he turned their black, full lustre towards me they expressed a living sadness.

There was somthing in those dark deep orbs so liquid, and intense that even in happiness I could never meet their full gaze that mine did not overflow.

Yet it was with sweet tears; now there was a depth of affliction in their gentle appeal that rent my heart with sympathy; they seemed to desire peace for me; for himself a heart patient to suffer; a craving for sympathy, yet a perpetual self denial.

It was only when he was absent from me that his passion subdued him,--that he clinched his hands--knit his brows--and with haggard looks called for death to his despair, raving wildly, untill exhausted he sank down nor was revived untill I joined him.
While we were in London there was a harshness and sulleness in his sorrow which had now entirely disappeared.

There I shrunk and fled from him, now I only wished to be with him that I might soothe him to peace.