, proves to be a phenomenon of goodness and (can you believe
it) even tenderness. Tenderness, I hear you cry, in a Hollandois! But
hold your injustice; the character and fine heart of Van Rensselaer
will, I think, in future, remove your prejudice, especially when you
add to this his marked attention and civility.
Saturday, 12th December.
Van Rensselaer finds fault with my quarters, which, indeed, are far
removed from elegance, and, in some respects, from convenience. He
insists that I suffer him to provide me better.
I have not hitherto had an hour of Yates. His reasons, however, have
been good. On Monday we are to mangle law.
Sunday, 13th December.
Van Rensselaer has succeeded perfectly to my wish. I am with two
maidens, aunts of his, obliging and (incredible!!) good-natured. The
very paragon of neatness. Not an article of furniture, even to a
teakettle, that would soil a muslin handkerchief. I have two upper
rooms. I was interrupted at the line above, and cannot now, for my
life, recollect what I was intending to write. I leave it, however, to
plague you as it has done me.
Monday, 14th December.
I really fear Yates is playing the fool with me. Still evasive, though
plausibly so. I have just had an interview. To-morrow I must and will
come to a positive eclaircissement.
I am determined, in future, when doubt arises in my mind whether I
shall write a thing or not, invariably to write it.
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