breathe
soft, hushing every wayward emotion, as if fearing to sully with a sigh,
a contentment so extatic.

"Having settled my father's affairs, and, by my exertions in his favour,
made my brother my sworn foe, I returned to London. My husband's conduct
was now changed; I had during my absence, received several affectionate,
penitential letters from him; and he seemed on my arrival, to wish by
his behaviour to prove his sincerity. I could not then conceive why he
acted thus; and, when the suspicion darted into my head, that it might
arise from observing my increasing influence with my uncle, I almost
despised myself for imagining that such a degree of debasing selfishness
could exist.

"He became, unaccountable as was the change, tender and attentive; and,
attacking my weak side, made a confession of his follies, and lamented
the embarrassments in which I, who merited a far different fate, might
be involved. He besought me to aid him with my counsel, praised my
understanding, and appealed to the tenderness of my heart.

"This conduct only inspired me with compassion. I wished to be his
friend; but love had spread his rosy pinions and fled far, far away;
and had not (like some exquisite perfumes, the fine spirit of which
is continually mingling with the air) left a fragrance behind, to mark
where he had shook his wings. My husband's renewed caresses then became
hateful to me; his brutality was tolerable, compared to his distasteful
fondness. Still, compassion, and the fear of insulting his supposed
feelings, by a want of sympathy, made me dissemble, and do violence to
my delicacy. What a task!

"Those who support a system of what I term false refinement, and will
not allow great part of love in the female, as well as male breast, to
spring in some respects involuntarily, may not admit that charms are
as necessary to feed the passion, as virtues to convert the mellowing
spirit into friendship. To such observers I have nothing to say, any
more than to the moralists, who insist that women ought to, and can love
their husbands, because it is their duty. To you, my child, I may
add, with a heart tremblingly alive to your future conduct, some
observations, dictated by my present feelings, on calmly reviewing this
period of my life. When novelists or moralists praise as a virtue, a
woman's coldness of constitution, and want of passion; and make her
yield to the ardour of her lover out of sheer compassion, or to promote
a