I must run to the door and see what it is.

Oh, Mary! Mary! I hope I am not going to have another fright about you, but I feel sadly like it.
March 8th.
March 9th.
March 10th.
March 11th.

Oh me! all the troubles I have ever had in my life are as nothing to the trouble I am in now.

For three days I have not been able to write a single line in this journal, which I have kept so regularly ever since I was a girl.

For three days I have not once thought of Robert--I, who am always thinking of him at other times.
My poor, dear, unhappy Mary! the worst I feared for you on that night when I sat up alone was far below the dreadful calamity that has really happened.