August 26.—
Oh, my dear! I am
mortified to the last degree, lest Mr. Arnold
should, from some indiscreet tongue,
have received a hint of my former engagement;
he may think me disingenuous
for never having mentioned it, especially
since Mr. Faulkland has been in
the neighbourhood: I think his nature is
too open to entertain any suspicions essentially
injurious to me; yet may this affair,
circumstanced as it is, make an unfavourable
impression on him. I wish I had
been before-hand with any officious whisperer:
he has got so much abroad, that the
story may have reached his ears. God
forbid it should affect his mind with
causeless uneasiness; I would Mr. Faulkland
were a thousand miles from V—hall.
I think Mr. Arnold is altered since his arrival
there—Colder he appears to be—I
hope but
fancy it—yet there
is a change
—his looks are less kind—his voice has
lost that tenderness that it used to have
in speaking to me—yet this may only be
his temper—a man cannot always be a
lover—Oh, I sicken at the very thought
of Mr. Arnold's entertaining a doubt of
my true affection for him! I would not
live in this suspence for millions. I would
rather he should treat me roughly—if I
discovered that to be his humour, though
it would frighten me, yet should I patiently
conform to it.
