 for daring to sancy he can impose upon me by his feigned tenderness. Long have I been sensible of the mortifying truth. A love like mine was too clear sighted

not to perceive it, in spite of all his efforts to conceal what he had not courage openly to avow.—Ah! no wonder he should blush at so preposterous an attachment.—Heavens! that I should live to find a rival in a creature so insignificant; a mere ignorant girl, who has no one thing to recommend her, but youth and novelty.
Oh! how I could curse the hour in which I was fool enough to fix my affections on a wretch so unworthy that tenderness my weak heart has lavished on him.
Why are you not here, that I might, without the trouble of writing, vent a part of the rage which at this moment consumes me?
I am distracted! driven to madness, nor shall I ever know one moment's peace of mind till I have effectually destroyed theirs.
Let her not presume to flatter herself her triumph shall be of long duration; she shall be humbled, Caroline, humbled to the dust, if my good genius does not forsake me in the glorious attempt.
Can you figure to yourself what were my feelings, on finding my suspicions of

his infidelity confirmed beyond all possible doubt? Yet, what a question?—No, you must first have loved like me, and like me have been—
I will not, cannot proceed—my pride forbids it.—Let me from this hour banish that horrid idea from my memory, and for the future devote my whole attention to dear revenge.
Little does he know the woman he has dared to slight; but he shall, by dear bought experience, learn she is not formed of such soft materials, as either to forget or forgive an injury, though she has art enough to concenl her resentment till a proper opportunity presents itself, in which she can display it to some purpose—and of that she does not despair. But let me endeavour to be calm, that I may give you some idea of my present situation.
What I have now said will not much surprise von after the hints you will find dropped in several of my letters. I confess I found it no very pleasant business to be more explicit; however I have at lerght conquered that scruple, and have freely told you Sommerville has proved himself a villain—that is to say a

man, for are they not all deceivers, born for our destruction?—'Tis the character given of them by one of their own sex, yet in spite of this we continue to
