 I replied, I would not give her cause to weep, for worlds—nay what is more, for you! You have acknowledged too, that the step your kindness prompted you to take, must be attended with severe regret also, on your own part. What should I feel then, from rendering you unhappy! I have not fortitude to brave such two fold agony.
O! you have half that guilt to answer for already.—But my pride revolt at my own meanness. Leave me, Sir—leave me for ever, Woodville! I shall obey you, madam, but before we part, for ever, suffer me, at least, to satisfy your pride, by declaring that no man ever loved,

with fonder passion than I now feel for you—how far time and absence may be able to conquer it, I know not; but should they fail of their usual effects, it is impossible that I should bear it long; and now, my Isabella one last embrace—may angels guard you!
I RUSHED out of the house, like a distracted man, but had not walked a quarter of a mile, before the rectitude of my conduct towards this too lovely woman, began by flattering my pride, to qualify my passion; and I returned home, in a more rational state of mind than I have known for some time.
REJOICE with me, my friend; the conflict's past! and be just enough to acknowledge my triumph more compleat, than the much boasted one of Scipio. He only resigned an alienated heart—while I forego a self devoted victim!
I AM, this moment, going to step into the coach for Woodfort, where I shall impatiently long to see you But, O write soon, to strengthen, and applaud my growing virtue.



Hot-Wells.
BELIEVE me, Woodville, there is not another event within the power of fortune, which could now give me half the joy that I received from your last letter. I do congratulate my noble friend, myself, and all the world, on that heroic virtue, which has enabled you to pass

the ordeal fire, unsullied and unhurt. Rather let me say, that like the Amianthus*, you have gained new whiteness, from the flames, and shine with brighter lustre, than even unblemished innocence can boast.
I FIND my stile, perhaps, too much elevated, by my sentiments, but sudden transitions must have strong effects. I had scarce a hope of your escaping the snare that was laid for you, and mourned your fall from honour, with infinitely more regret, than I should have done your death.
