The sun of youth is not set for you; it will restore vigour and life to you; do not resist with obstinate grief its beneficent influence, oh, my child! bless me with the hope that I have not utterly destroyed you.
"Farewell, Mathilda.

I go with the belief that I have your pardon.
Your gentle nature would not permit you to hate your greatest enemy and though I be he, although I have rent happiness from your grasp;[38] though I have passed over your young love and hopes as the angel of destruction, finding beauty and joy, and leaving blight and despair, yet you will forgive me, and with eyes overflowing with tears I thank you; my beloved one, I accept your pardon with a gratitude that will never die, and that will, indeed it will, outlive guilt and remorse.
"Farewell for ever!" The moment I finished this letter I ordered the carriage and prepared to follow my father.

The words of his letter by which he had dissuaded me from this step were those that determined me.

Why did he write them?
He must know that if I believed that his intention was merely to absent himself from me that instead of opposing him it would be that which I should myself require--or if he thought that any lurking feeling, yet he could not think that, should lead me to him would he endeavour to overthrow the only hope he could have of ever seeing me again; a lover, there was madness in the thought, yet he was my lover, would not act thus.

No, he had determined to die, and he wished to spare me the misery of knowing it.