29 November 1835

No kiss.

Wrote copy of note for her to write to West, the schoolmaster of Bulmer. She did not take well this morning Marian’s speaking about Mary’s going home. Marian quite right and very kind about it but poor A- cannot bear the least thing – she does not herself join in originating – she thought Marian, or rather, Jane, wanted to get rid of Mary, and Jane Ormar might get easily rid of her, A-, too. What, would you go without poney? Yes, under some circumstance. I care not now but if she does go without me, I will take care about her coming back again.

24 November 1835

No kiss.

It seems A- was crying yesterday about some people having offered to take part of Crow Nest and others having applied for it for a school – cheered up tonight on hearing the Sutherlands laughed at and scouted the offers.

23 November 1835

No kiss.

A- queerish and poorly, or middling as she calls it – I think temper goes for much of it. She cried last night on my gently saying I thought she ought to tell me things fairly, she would not mew as she used to do. [I] had reasons but would not tell her whole manner, too, about money matters nowadays – speaks plain enough that things are not to be as I at first expected. Well, be it so. I dreamt last [night] of a long tête-à-tête with Lady Stuart de Rothesay in which I had an opportunity in telling her of my great regard favourably received and hoping to spend my days with her. What will be my fate at last?

[Talking to A-] She had been crying very much. Talked gently and kindly but still impossible to get anything out of her tho’ she smiled and seemed in better temper, but I believe she is not only afraid of all my jobs, that is, the money to be spent – but she would be glad to be at liberty again. It will end in an amicable parting as soon as we can decently manage it.

22 November 1835

No kiss.

A- out of sorts someway or other. I think she wants to be off handsomely in process of time and when the time comes, I feel as if I should not lament it very deeply. What a queer temper she has.

10 November 1835

No kiss.

I think more and more [that] A- and I will never go on together forever. I felt this strongly on Sunday at church – even last night just before getting into bed she was in one of her out of sort humours. I knew not what for unless that I asked for the plan I got done of the old church sometime ago. She has a queer temper and as she gradually begins to have a will of her own, her queerness here requiring much attention, her emptiness as a companion strike[s] me more and more. Her leaving me shall be her own doing, but I hope I shall be ready when the time shall come and not fret myself to death about it.