he aching void of
disappointment. I almost dread that your plans will prove abortive--yet
should the most unlucky turn send you home to us, convinced that a true
friend is a treasure, I should not much mind having to struggle with the
world again. Accuse me not of pride--yet sometimes, when nature has
opened my heart to its author, I have wondered that you did not set a
higher value on my heart.

Receive a kiss from ------, I was going to add, if you will not take one
from me, and believe me yours

Sincerely

* * * *

The wind still continues in the same quarter.

* * * * *

LETTER XLVII.

Tuesday Morning.

THE captain has just sent to inform me, that I must be on board in the
course of a few hours.--I wished to have stayed till to-morrow. It would
have been a comfort to me to have received another letter from
you--Should one arrive, it will be sent after me.

My spirits are agitated, I scarcely know why----The quitting England
seems to be a fresh parting.--Surely you will not forget me.--A thousand
weak forebodings assault my soul, and the state of my health renders me
sensible to every thing. It is surprising that in London, in a continual
conflict of mind, I was still growing better--whilst here, bowed down by
the despotic hand of fate, forced into resignation by despair, I seem to
be fading away--perishing beneath a cruel blight, that withers up all my
faculties.

The child is perfectly well. My hand seems unwilling to add adieu! I know
not why this inexpressible sadness has taken possession of me.--It is not
a presentiment of ill. Yet, having been so perpetually the sport of
disappointment,--having a heart that has been as it were a mark for
misery, I dread to meet wretchedness in some new shape.--Well, let it
come--I care not!--what have I to dread, who have so little to hope for!
God bless you--I am most affectionately and sincerely yours

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER XLVIII.

Wednesday Morning.

I WAS hurried on board yesterday about three o'clock, the wind having
changed. But before evening it veered round to the old point; and here we
are, in the midst of mists and water, only taking advantage of the tide
to advance a few miles.

You will scarcely suppose that I left the town with reluctance--yet it
was even so--for I wished to receive another letter from you, and I felt
pain at parting, for ever perhaps, from the amiable family