ered her. She
desired me to inform her of every particular relative to her elopement,
which I did, and then delivered her the letter which Eliza had left for
her. "I suspect," said she, as she took it; "I have long suspected what
I dared not believe. The anguish of my mind has been known only to
myself and my God." I could not answer her, and therefore withdrew. When
I had read Eliza's letter to me, and wept over the sad fall, and, as I
fear, the total loss of this once amiable and accomplished girl, I
returned to Mrs. Wharton. She was sitting in her easy chair, and still
held the fatal letter in her hand. When I entered, she fixed her
streaming eyes upon me, and exclaimed, "O Julia, this is more than the
bitterness of death." "True, madam," said I, "your affliction must be
great; yet that all-gracious Being who controls every event is able, and
I trust disposed, to support you." "To him," replied she, "I desire
humbly to resign myself; but I think I could have borne almost any other
calamity with greater resignation and composure than this. With how much
comparative ease could I have followed her to the grave at any period
since her birth! O, my child, my child! dear, very dear, hast thou been
to my fond heart. Little did I think it possible for you to prepare so
dreadful a cup of sorrow for your widowed mother. But where," continued
she, "where can the poor fugitive have fled? Where can she find that
protection and tenderness, which, notwithstanding her great apostasy, I
should never have withheld? From whom can she receive those kind
attentions which her situation demands."

The agitation of her mind had exhausted her strength, and I prevailed on
her to refresh and endeavor to compose herself to rest, assuring her of
my utmost exertions to find out Eliza's retreat, and restore her to a
mother's arms.

I am obliged to suppress my own emotions, and to bend all my thoughts
towards the alleviation of Mrs. Wharton's anxiety and grief.

Major Sanford is from home, as I expected; and I am determined, if he
return, to see him myself, and extort from him the place of Eliza's
concealment. Her flight in her present state of health is inexpressibly
distressing to her mother; and unless we find her soon, I dread the
effects.

I shall not close this till I have seen or heard from the vile
miscreant who has involved a worthy family in wretchedness.

_Friday morning._--Two days have elapsed without affording us much
relief. La