otected by your sense of duty. Next to
preserving her, my most earnest wish is not to disturb your peace. I have
nothing to expect, and little to fear, in life--There are wounds that can
never be healed--but they may be allowed to fester in silence without
wincing.

When we meet again, you shall be convinced that I have more resolution
than you give me credit for. I will not torment you. If I am destined
always to be disappointed and unhappy, I will conceal the anguish I
cannot dissipate; and the tightened cord of life or reason will at last
snap, and set me free.

Yes; I shall be happy--This heart is worthy of the bliss its feelings
anticipate--and I cannot even persuade myself, wretched as they have made
me, that my principles and sentiments are not founded in nature and
truth. But to have done with these subjects.

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I have been seriously employed in this way since I came to ----; yet I
never was so much in the air.--I walk, I ride on horseback--row, bathe,
and even sleep in the fields; my health is consequently improved. The
child, ------informs me, is well. I long to be with her.

Write to me immediately--were I only to think of myself, I could wish you
to return to me, poor, with the simplicity of character, part of which
you seem lately to have lost, that first attached to you.

Yours most affectionately

* * * * * * * * *

I have been subscribing other letters--so I mechanically did the same to
yours.

* * * * *

LETTER LXI.

August 5.

EMPLOYMENT and exercise have been of great service to me; and I have
entirely recovered the strength and activity I lost during the time of my
nursing. I have seldom been in better health; and my mind, though
trembling to the touch of anguish, is calmer--yet still the same.--I
have, it is true, enjoyed some tranquillity, and more happiness here,
than for a long--long time past.--(I say happiness, for I can give no
other appellation to the exquisite delight this wild country and fine
summer have afforded me.)--Still, on examining my heart, I find that it
is so constituted, I cannot live without some particular affection--I am
afraid not without a passion--and I feel the want of it more in society,
than in solitude--
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