s really in a very weak and languishing way,) let me beg of you
not to think of it.

Yesterday afternoon she received a cruel letter (as Mrs. Lovick supposes
it to be, by the effect it had upon her) from her sister, in answer to
one written last Saturday, entreating a blessing and forgiveness from her
parents.

She acknowledges, that if the same decency and justice are observed in
all of your letters, as in the extracts I have obliged her with, (as I
have assured her they are,) she shall think herself freed from the
necessity of writing her own story: and this is an advantage to thee
which thou oughtest to thank me for.

But what thinkest thou is the second request she had to make to me? no
other than that I would be her executor!--Her motives will appear before
thee in proper time; and then, I dare to answer, will be satisfactory.

You cannot imagine how proud I am of this trust. I am afraid I shall too
soon come into the execution of it. As she is always writing, what a
melancholy pleasure will be the perusal and disposition of her papers
afford me! such a sweetness of temper, so much patience and resignation,
as she seems to be mistress of; yet writing of and in the midst of
present distresses! how much more lively and affecting, for that reason,
must her style be; her mind tortured by the pangs of uncertainty, (the
events then hidden in the womb of fate,) than the dry, narrative,
unanimated style of persons, relating difficulties and dangers
surmounted; the relater perfectly at ease; and if himself unmoved by his
own story, not likely greatly to affect the reader!

***

SATURDAY MORNING, AUG. 5.

I am just returned from visiting the lady, and thanking her in person for
the honour she has done me; and assuring her, if called to the sacred
trust, of the utmost fidelity and exactness.

I found her very ill. I took notice of it. She said, she had received a
second hard-hearted letter from her sister; and she had been writing a
letter (and that on her knees) directly to her mother; which, before, she
had not had the courage to do. It was for a last blessing and
forgiveness. No wonder, she said, that I saw her affected. Now that I
had accepted of the last charitable office for her, (for which, as well
as for complying with her other request, she thanked me,) I should one
day have all these letters before me: and could she have a kind one in
return to that she had been now writing, to counterbalance th