I cannot help saying to myself, “If Albert were to die? — Yes, she would
the edge of a precipice at which I shudder.
conducted me to Charlotte, my heart sinks within me at the change that has since
taken place. All, all, is altered! No sentiment, no pulsation of my heart, is the
same. My sensations are such as would occur to some departed prince whose
spirit should return to visit the superb palace which he had built in happy times,
adorned with costly magnificence, and left to a beloved son, but whose glory he
should find departed, and its halls deserted and in ruins.
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