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."