d strewed with thorns, and court in vain that
comforter of weary nature (who seldom visits the unhappy) to come and
steep her senses in oblivion.

Who can form an adequate idea of the sorrow that preyed upon the mind of
Charlotte? The wife, whose breast glows with affection to her husband,
and who in return meets only indifference, can but faintly conceive her
anguish. Dreadfully painful is the situation of such a woman, but she
has many comforts of which our poor Charlotte was deprived. The duteous,
faithful wife, though treated with indifference, has one solid pleasure
within her own bosom, she can reflect that she has not deserved
neglect--that she has ever fulfilled the duties of her station with the
strictest exactness; she may hope, by constant assiduity and unremitted
attention, to recall her wanderer, and be doubly happy in his returning
affection; she knows he cannot leave her to unite himself to another: he
cannot cast her out to poverty and contempt; she looks around her,
and sees the smile of friendly welcome, or the tear of affectionate
consolation, on the face of every person whom she favours with her
esteem; and from all these circumstances she gathers comfort: but the
poor girl by thoughtless passion led astray, who, in parting with
her honour, has forfeited the esteem of the very man to whom she has
sacrificed every thing dear and valuable in life, feels his indifference
in the fruit of her own folly, and laments her want of power to recall
his lost affection; she knows there is no tie but honour, and that, in
a man who has been guilty of seduction, is but very feeble: he may leave
her in a moment to shame and want; he may marry and forsake her for
ever; and should he, she has no redress, no friendly, soothing companion
to pour into her wounded mind the balm of consolation, no benevolent
hand to lead her back to the path of rectitude; she has disgraced her
friends, forfeited the good opinion of the world, and undone herself;
she feels herself a poor solitary being in the midst of surrounding
multitudes; shame bows her to the earth, remorse tears her distracted
mind, and guilt, poverty, and disease close the dreadful scene: she
sinks unnoticed to oblivion. The finger of contempt may point out to
some passing daughter of youthful mirth, the humble bed where lies this
frail sister of mortality; and will she, in the unbounded gaiety of her
heart, exult in her own unblemished fame, and triumph over the silent