by
the person from whom I had every reason to expect affection. I
write to you with an agitated hand. I cannot be more explicit. I
value your good opinion, and you know how to feel for me. I looked
for something like happiness in the discharge of my relative
duties, and the heart on which I leaned has pierced mine to the
quick. I have not been used well, and live but for my child; for I
am weary of myself. I still think of settling in France, because I
wish to leave my little girl there. I have been very ill, have
taken some desperate steps; but I am now writing for independence.
I wish I had no other evil to complain of than the necessity of
providing for myself and my child. Do not mistake me. Mr. Imlay
would be glad to supply all my pecuniary wants; but unless he
returns to himself, I would perish first. Pardon the incoherence of
my style. I have put off writing to you from time to time, because
I could not write calmly. Pray write to me. I will not fail, I was
going to say, when I have anything good to tell you. But for me
there is nothing good in store. My heart is broken! I am yours,
etc.,

MARY IMLAY.

Outwardly she became much calmer. She resumed her old tasks; Mr. Johnson
now, as ever, practically befriending her by providing her with work. She
had nothing so much at heart as her child's interests, and these seemed
to demand her abjuration of solitude and her return to social life. Her
existence externally was, save for the presence of Fanny, exactly the
same as it had been before her departure for France. Another minor change
was that she was now known as Mrs. Imlay. Imlay had asked her to retain
his name; and to prevent the awkwardness and misunderstandings that
otherwise would have arisen, she consented to do so.

During this period she had held but little communication with her family.
The coolness between her sisters and herself had, from no fault of hers,
developed into positive anger. Their ill-will, which had begun some years
previous, had been stimulated by her comparative silence during her
residence abroad. She had really written to them often, but it was
impossible at that time for letters not to miscarry. Those which she
sent by private opportunities reached them, and they contain proofs of
her unremitting and affectionate solicitude for them. Always accustomed
to help them out of difficulties, she w