During the summer of 1811, Shelley’s movements were more than usually erratic, and his mind was in a state of extraordinary restlessness.  In the month of May, a kind of accommodation was come to with his father.  He received permission to revisit Field Place, and had an allowance made him of 200 pounds a year.  His uncle, Captain Pilfold of Cuckfield, was instrumental in effecting this partial reconciliation.  Shelley spent some time at his uncle’s country house, oscillating between London, Cuckfield, and Field Place, with characteristic rapidity, and paying one flying visit to his cousin Grove at Cwm Elan, near Rhayader, in North Wales.  This visit is worth mention, since he now for the first time saw the scenery of waterfalls and mountains.  He was, however, too much preoccupied to take much interest in nature.  He was divided between his old affection for Miss Grove, his new but somewhat languid interest in Harriet, and a dearly cherished scheme for bringing about a marriage between his sister Elizabeth and his friend Hogg.  The letters written to Hogg at this period (volume 1 pages 387-418) are exceedingly important and interesting, revealing as they do the perturbation of his feelings and the almost morbid excitement of his mind.  But they are unluckily so badly edited, whether designedly or by accident, that it would be dangerous to draw minute conclusions from them.  As they stand, they raise injurious suspicions, which can only be set at rest by a proper assignment of dates and explanation.

Meanwhile his destiny was shaping itself with a rapidity that plunged him suddenly into decisive and irrevocable action.  It is of the greatest moment to ascertain precisely what his feelings were during this summer with regard to Harriet.  Hogg has printed two letters in immediate juxtaposition:  the first without date, the second with the post-mark of Rhayader.  Shelley ends the first epistle thus:  “Your jokes on Harriet Westbrook amuse me:  it is a common error for people to fancy others in their own situation, but if I know anything about love, I am not in love.  I have heard from the Westbrooks, both of whom I highly esteem.”  He begins the second with these words:  “You will perhaps see me before you can answer this; perhaps not; heaven knows!  I shall certainly come to York, but Harriet Westbrook will decide whether now or in three weeks.  Her father has persecuted her in a most horrible way, by endeavouring to compel her to go to school.  She asked my advice:  resistance was the answer, at the same time that I essayed to mollify Mr. W. in vain!  And in consequence of my advice she has thrown herself upon my protection.  I set off for London on Monday.  How flattering a distinction!—­I am thinking of ten million things at once.  What have I said?  I declare, quite ludicrous.  I advised her to resist.  She wrote to say that resistance was useless, but that she would fly with me, and threw