VOLUME III. CHAPTER I.
DAY after day, week after week, passed away on my
return to Geneva; and I could
not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the
vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to
overcome my repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found
that I could not compose a female without again devoting several
months to profound study and laborious disquisition. I had heard
of some discoveries having been made by an English philosopher, the
knowledge of which was material to my success, and I sometimes
thought of obtaining my father's consent to visit England for
this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay, and could
not resolve to interrupt my returning tranquillity. My health,
which had hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my
spirits, when unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose
proportionably. My father saw this change with pleasure, and he
turned his thoughts towards the best method of eradicating the
remains of my melancholy, which every now and then would return
by fits, and with a devouring blackness overcast the approaching
sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the
lake alone in a little boat, watching the clouds, and
listening to the rippling of the waves, silent and listless. But
the fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some
degree of composure; and, on my return, I met the salutations of
my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful heart.
It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father,
calling me aside, thus addressed me:--
"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your
former pleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet
you are still unhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time
I was lost in conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday
an idea struck me, and if it is well founded, I conjure you to
avow it. Reserve on such a point would be not only useless, but
draw down treble misery on us all."