promises of secrecy, and making no use of it. I will try if I can open
it without breaking the seal, and will take a copy of it by and by; for
Robin is in and out: there being hardly any room in this little house
for one to be long alone. Well, this is the letter:

'When these lines are delivered to you, you will be far on your way to
your father and mother, where you have so long desired to be: and, I
hope, I shall forbear thinking of you with the least shadow of that
fondness my foolish heart had entertained for you: I bear you, however,
no ill will; but the end of my detaining you being over, I would not
that you should tarry with me an hour more than needed, after the
ungenerous preference you gave, at a time that I was inclined to pass
over all other considerations, for an honourable address to you; for
well I found the tables entirely turned upon me, and that I was in
far more danger from you, than you were from me; for I was just upon
resolving to defy all the censures of the world, and to make you my
wife.

'I will acknowledge another truth: That, had I not parted with you as I
did, but permitted you to stay till I had read your journal, reflecting,
as I doubt not I shall find it, and till I had heard your bewitching
pleas in your own behalf, I feared I could not trust myself with my
own resolution. And this is the reason, I frankly own, that I have
determined not to see you, nor hear you speak; for well I know my
weakness in your favour.

'But I will get the better of this fond folly: Nay, I hope I have
already done it, since it was likely to cost me so dear. And I write
this to tell you, that I wish you well with all my heart, though you
have spread such mischief through my family.--And yet I cannot but
say that I could wish you would not think of marrying in haste; and,
particularly, that you would not have this cursed Williams.--But what
is all this to me now?--Only, my weakness makes me say, That as I had
already looked upon you as mine, and you have so soon got rid of your
first husband; so you will not refuse, to my memory, the decency that
every common person observes, to pay a twelvemonth's compliment, though
but a mere compliment, to my ashes.

'Your papers shall be faithfully returned you; and I have paid so dear
for my curiosity in the affection they have rivetted upon me for you,
that you would look upon yourself amply revenged if you knew what they
have cost me.

'I thought of writing only