 hand; but as I hesitated about receiving it, he said I had nothing to fear from the contents, and he would call for my answer the next day; and instantly left the room.
THE Pacquet contained a long letter from captain Barnard, filled with vain excuses for his falsehood, and passionate intreaties that I would again suffer him to plead his pardon at my feet—he expressed the most poignant sorrow for my illness, and begged I would at least permit him to repair the injuries he had done me, as far as it was possible, by accepting an unlimited power over that fortune, to which he had sacrificed his love, honour, and happiness; and as a proof of my forgiveness, requested I would receive an enclosed bill for five hundred pounds; but if my pride should still reject his penitence, he desired I would return his letters, by the gentleman that was the bearer of that.
THIS fresh insult roused all my resentment against him, and I passed a restless night, counting the clock, and with impatience waiting for the hour when I should restore his insolent present, with the scorn it merited.

AT length, his ambassador arrived, and either was, or seemed to be surprized, when I acquainted him with the purport of the letter he had brought me; and made many apologies for having unwittingly offended—said the affair between captain Barnard and me had been represented in a very different light to him: that he understood there had been a slight quarrel between us, and that the letter he brought, was to be the means of a reconcilement.
CRUEL Barnard, merciless man! was it not enough to make me wretched! why should he endeavour to make me infamous also! I returned the note, and put the letter which had enclosed it, into the fire. As to those I had formerly received from captain Barnard, I told his friend I would readily part with them, when he should have restored mine; but as I had no reason to have the least reliance on his word, I would not give them out of my possession, on any other terms. He applauded my resolution and retired.
I LONGED impatiently to leave Paris, and fancied I should recover my peace, by quitting the scene of my unhappiness.—I was obliged to part with some of the jewels, which Mrs. Bolton had left me, to defray the expences of my illness and journey; and in a state of the lowest weakness both of mind and body, I returned to London.
ON my arrival, I found that a maiden aunt of my father's, who
