d letter, among other things, she says,]

So, my dear, you seem to think that there was a fate in my error. The
cordial, the considerate friendship is seen in the observation you make
on this occasion. Yet since things have happened as they have, would
to Heaven I could hear that all the world acquitted my father, or, at
least, my mother! whose character, before these family feuds broke out,
was the subject of everyone's admiration. Don't let any body say from
you, so that it may come to her ear, that she might, from a timely
exertion of her fine talents, have saved her unhappy child. You will
observe, my dear, that in her own good time, when she saw there was not
likely to be an end to my brother's persecutions, she resolved to
exert herself. But the pragmatical daughter, by the fatal meeting,
precipitated all, and frustrated her indulgent designs. O my love, I am
now convinced, by dear experience, that while children are so happy
as to have parents or guardians whom they may consult, they should not
presume (no, not with the best and purest intentions) to follow their
own conceits in material cases.

A ray of hope of future reconciliation darts in upon my mind, from the
intention you tell me my mother had to exert herself in my favour, had I
not gone away. And my hope is the stronger, as this communication points
out to me that my uncle Harlowe's interest is likely, in my mother's
opinion, to be of weight, if it could be engaged. It will behove me,
perhaps, to apply to that dear uncle, if a proper occasion offer.

LETTER LX

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, APRIL 24.

Fate is weaving a whimsical web for thy friend; and I see not but I
shall be inevitably manacled.

Here have I been at work, dig, dig, dig, like a cunning miner, at one
time, and spreading my snares, like an artful fowler, at another, and
exulting in my contrivances to get this inimitable creature, absolutely
into my power. Every thing made for me. Her brother and uncles were but
my pioneers: her father stormed as I directed him to storm: Mrs. Howe
was acted by the springs I set at work; her daughter was moving for me,
yet imagined herself plumb against me: and the dear creature herself
had already run her stubborn neck into my gin, and knew not that she was
caught, for I had not drawn my sprindges close about her--And just as
all this was completed, wouldst thou believe, that I should be my own
enemy, and her friend? That I shou