 without precipitation, necessarily comes to the relief of the overburdened sufferer. For pain or grief are able to do their own business, without the assistance of a crime.
From whence I argue, that resolution may last as long as life, and that a virtuous soul may be sooner separated than subdued.—I have endeavoured to express myself upon this subject, with all the energy I could—I feel an interest in this reasoning, at present, and shall repose my trust in it.
Maria was certainly more wretched, than I am, by the addition of one circumstance,

which alone was sufficient to have rendered her so; but surely we may hope, without offence to the most rigid virtue, that penitence and sufferings, such as hers, may have atoned for her transgression, and that she now is happy—It is to be innocent, to be unhappy—Whilst I must still subscribe myself your unhappy, but affectionate sister.



In answer to letter LXI.
Cleveland-hall
YOUR Fanny, my Louisa, has obeyed your kind command, and now claims the sad indulgence promised in your last—I long, yet dread to know

what those events can be, which you deem more interesting, than any of those extraordinary circumstances, which have already happened to you!
I cannot express the mixed sensation which my heart is at present sensible of! While I give it up to that joy, which happiness like mine should inspire, I fancy I defraud you of that portion of sorrow which is due to your distress; and while I tenderly reflect upon your sufferings, and busy my imagination in trying to discover those additional woes you hint at, the big drop which steals down my cheek, silently reproaches me with ingratitude to my dear brother, to his amiable wife, to my reclaimed prodigal, to Providence! and when, as it sometimes happens, my melancholy becomes

contagious, and that I see a gloomy look of inquiry spread over those countenances, which should be lighted up with smiles, I strive, forgive me, my Louisa! to forget your sorrows, and dispel the cloud I have created, by affected efforts of chearfulness.
But I will no longer, like Miss Howe in Clarissa, content myself with poorly lamenting the unhappiness of my friend—I can have no doubt of Lord Hume's indulgence, I will request his permission to see and embrace my sister—Her sighs and tears shall flow upon my bosom! and I will try to pour the balm of comfort into her's.
You did not date your last letter, so so that I cannot even guess where you are,

at present; but I shall direct this
