e should not aim at all we have power to do. To
take all that good-nature, or indulgence, or good opinion confers,
shews a want of moderation, and a graspingness that is unworthy of that
indulgence; and are bad indications of the use that may be made of the
power bequeathed. It is true, thought I, that I have formed agreeable
schemes of making others as happy as myself, by the proper discharge of
the stewardship intrusted to me. [Are not all estates stewardships,
my dear?] But let me examine myself: Is not vanity, or secret love
of praise, a principal motive with me at the bottom?--Ought I not to
suspect my own heart? If I set up for myself, puffed up with every one's
good opinion, may I not be left to myself?--Every one's eyes are upon
the conduct, upon the visits, upon the visiters, of a young creature
of our sex, made independent: And are not such subjected, more than any
others, to the attempts of enterprisers and fortune-seekers?--And then,
left to myself, should I take a wrong step, though with ever so good an
intention, how many should I have to triumph over me, how few to pity
me!--The more of the one, and the fewer of the other, for having aimed
at excelling.

These were some of my reflections at the time: and I have no doubt, but
that in the same situation I should do the very same thing; and that
upon the maturest deliberation. Who can command or foresee events? To
act up to our best judgments at the time, is all we can do. If I have
erred, 'tis to worldly wisdom only that I have erred. If we suffer by an
act of duty, or even by an act of generosity, is it not pleasurable on
reflection, that the fault is in others, rather than in ourselves?--I
had much rather have reason to think others unkind, than that they
should have any to think me undutiful.

And so, my dear, I am sure had you.

And now for the most concerning part of your letter.

You think I must of necessity, as matters are circumstanced, be Solmes's
wife. I will not be very rash, my dear, in protesting to the contrary:
but I think it never can, and, what is still more, never ought to
be!--My temper, I know, is depended upon. But I have heretofore said,*
that I have something in me of my father's family, as well as of my
mother's. And have I any encouragement to follow too implicitly the
example which my mother sets of meekness, and resignedness to the wills
of others? Is she not for ever obliged (as she was pleased to hint to
me) to be of the fo