ld not suffer any means, however improbable, to be left untried.
While she was doing something, she kept her hope alive. As one expedient
failed, another was suggested; when one messenger returned unsuccessful,
another was despatched to a different quarter.

Two months had now passed, and of Pekuah nothing had been heard; the
hopes, which they had endeavoured to raise in each other, grew more
languid, and the princess, when she saw nothing more to be tried, sunk
down inconsolable in hopeless dejection. A thousand times she reproached
herself with the easy compliance, by which she permitted her favourite
to stay behind her. "Had not my fondness," said she, "lessened my
authority, Pekuah had not dared to talk of her terrours. She ought to
have feared me more than spectres. A severe look would have overpowered
her; a peremptory command would have compelled obedience. Why did
foolish indulgence prevail upon me? Why did I not speak, and refuse to
hear?"

"Great princess," said Imlac, "do not reproach yourself for your virtue,
or consider that as blamable by which evil has accidentally been caused.
Your tenderness for the timidity of Pekuah was generous and kind. When
we act according to our duty, we commit the event to him, by whose laws
our actions are governed, and who will suffer none to be finally
punished for obedience. When, in prospect of some good, whether natural
or moral, we break the rules prescribed us, we withdraw from the
direction of superiour wisdom, and take all consequences upon ourselves.
Man cannot so far know the connexion of causes and events, as that he
may venture to do wrong, in order to do right. When we pursue our end by
lawful means, we may always console our miscarriage by the hope of
future recompense. When we consult only our own policy, and attempt to
find a nearer way to good, by overleaping the settled boundaries of
right and wrong, we cannot be happy even by success, because we cannot
escape the consciousness of our fault; but, if we miscarry, the
disappointment is irremediably imbittered. How comfortless is the sorrow
of him, who feels, at once, the pangs of guilt, and the vexation of
calamity, which guilt has brought upon him?

"Consider, princess, what would have been your condition, if the lady
Pekuah had entreated to accompany you, and, being compelled to stay in
the tents, had been carried away; or how would you have borne the
thought, if you had forced her into the pyramid, and she