ask of writing--and explanations are not necessary.--
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
My child may have to blush for her mother's want of prudence--and may
lament that the rectitude of my heart made me above vulgar precautions;
but she shall not despise me for meanness.--You are now perfectly
free.--God bless you.
* * * *
* * * * *
LETTER LXXIII.
Saturday Night.
I HAVE been hurt by indirect enquiries, which appear to me not to be
dictated by any tenderness to me.--You ask "If I am well or
tranquil?"--They who think me so, must want a heart to estimate my
feelings by.--I chuse then to be the organ of my own sentiments.
I must tell you, that I am very much mortified by your continually
offering me pecuniary assistance--and, considering your going to the new
house, as an open avowal that you abandon me, let me tell you that I
will sooner perish than receive any thing from you--and I say this at the
moment when I am disappointed in my first attempt to obtain a temporary
supply. But this even pleases me; an accumulation of disappointments and
misfortunes seems to suit the habit of my mind.--
Have but a little patience, and I will remove myself where it will not be
necessary for you to talk--of course, not to think of me. But let me see,
written by yourself--for I will not receive it through any other
medium--that the affair is finished.--It is an insult to me to suppose,
that I can be reconciled, or recover my spirits; but, if you hear nothing
of me, it will be the same thing to you.
* * * *
Even your seeing me, has been to oblige other people, and not to sooth my
distracted mind.
* * * * *
LETTER LXXIV.
Thursday Afternoon.
MR. ------ having forgot to desire you to send the things of mine which
were left at the house, I have to request you to let ------ bring them
onto ------.
I shall go this evening to the lodging; so you need not be restrained
from coming here to transact your business.--And, whatever I may think,
and feel--you need not fear that I shall publicly complain--No! If I
have any criterion to judge of right and wrong, I have been most
ungenerously treated: but, wishing now only to hide myself, I shall be
silent as the grave in which I long to forget myself. I shall protect and
provide for my child.--I only mean by this to say, that you having
nothing to fear from my despe
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