e, if it had been all.

Can it be thought, my dear, that my heart was not more than half broken
(happy as I was before I knew Mr. Lovelace) by a grievous change in my
circumstances?--Indeed it was. Nor perhaps was the wicked violence
wanting to have cut short, though possibly not so very short, a life that
he has sported with.

Had I been his but a month, he must have possessed the estate on which my
relations had set their hearts; the more to their regret, as they hated
him as much as he hated them.

Have I not reason, these things considered, to think myself happier
without Mr. Lovelace than I could have been with him?--My will too
unviolated; and very little, nay, not any thing as to him, to reproach
myself with?

But with my relations it is otherwise. They indeed deserve to be pitied.
They are, and no doubt will long be, unhappy.

To judge of their resentments, and of their conduct, we must put
ourselves in their situation:--and while they think me more in fault than
themselves, (whether my favourers are of their opinion, or not,) and have
a right to judge for themselves, they ought to have great allowances made
for them; my parents especially. They stand at least self-acquitted,
(that I cannot;) and the rather, as they can recollect, to their pain,
their past indulgencies to me, and their unquestionable love.

Your partiality for the friend you so much value will not easily let you
come into this way of thinking. But only, my dear, be pleased to consider
the matter in the following light.

'Here was my MOTHER, one of the most prudent persons of her sex, married
into a family, not perhaps so happily tempered as herself; but every one
of which she had the address, for a great while, absolutely to govern as
she pleased by her directing wisdom, at the same time that they knew not
but her prescriptions were the dictates of their own hearts; such a sweet
heart had she of conquering by seeming to yield. Think, my dear, what
must be the pride and the pleasure of such a mother, that in my brother
she could give a son to the family she distinguished with her love, not
unworthy of their wishes; a daughter, in my sister, of whom she had no
reason to be ashamed; and in me a second daughter, whom every body
complimented (such was their partial favour to me) as being the still
more immediate likeness of herself? How, self pleased, could she smile
round upon a family she had so blessed! What compliments were paid her