think of me_? was my one thought that softened me continually into
weakness. _What is to become of us_? the other which steeled me again to
resolution. This was my first night of wakefulness and divided counsels,
of which I was now to pass many, pacing like a madman, sometimes weeping
like a childish boy, sometimes praying (I would fain hope) like a
Christian.

But prayer is not very difficult, and the hitch comes in practice. In
her presence, and above all if I allowed any beginning of familiarity, I
found I had very little command of what should follow. But to sit all
day in the same room with her, and feign to be engaged upon Heineccius,
surpassed my strength. So that I fell instead upon the expedient of
absenting myself so much as I was able; taking out classes and sitting
there regularly, often with small attention, the test of which I found
the other day in a note-book of that period, where I had left off to
follow an edifying lecture and actually scribbled in my book some very
ill verses, though the Latinity is rather better than I thought I could
ever have compassed. The evil of this course was unhappily near as great
as its advantage. I had the less time of trial, but I believe, while
that time lasted, I was tried the more extremely. For she being so much
left to solitude, she came to greet my return with an increasing fervour
that came nigh to overmaster me. These friendly offers I must
barbarously cast back; and my rejection sometimes wounded her so cruelly
that I must unbend and seek to make it up to her in kindness. So that
our time passed in ups and downs, tiffs and disappointments, upon the
which I could almost say (if it may be said with reverence) that I was
crucified.

The base of my trouble was Catriona's extraordinary innocence, at which
I was not so much surprised as filled with pity and admiration. She