 a messenger, it would be to the ruin of your peace and reputation.
Hardly hearing this generous pream∣ble, my eager eyes were fixed on the let∣ter, and I gave the fair hand that held it the spontaneous kiss I was at first tempt∣ed to bestow on the precious paper.—

Ah, how affecting were the emotions produced by the sight of that well-known hand! His language was impassioned, and incoherent—he accused himself, me, the friends of both, and the over-ruling fate which actuated all. He seemed as∣sured fraud, mystery, and a thousand yet unknown execrable arts had been com∣bined to separate us. He conjured me to discover both the persons and the means. He spoke of Lord Arlington rather as a weak tool in the hands of his more crafty enemies, than the object of that deep and eternal resentment, which only slept till I supplied it one. "Scorn, continued he, the narrow prejudices of custom, and your sex, nor be wholly the sacrifice of situation. Dare to be sincere, and think an adherence to your first sa∣cred vows (vows, dear as inviolable) the true point of honor, of religion, and mo∣rality. Oh, call to mind the fatal mo∣ment when you tore yourself inexorably, from arms that beauteous form no more, perhaps, shall fill.—A little confidence, a little faith, had then made both happy;

now, alas, they can only make us less miserable. Yet speak, my betrothed love, concluded he—tell me all—Once more I conjure you, by those rights your falshood, or death alone can annul, tell me all; and by your care of the life which throbs within this agitated bosom, give me a motive for wishing it to linger there."
As I perused this touching transcript of his soul, mine melted within me.—Nevertheless, I resolved to act up to the idea I had formed, and snatching a pen, I thus replied to him:
"In giving you my heart, my Lord, I own I gave you a right, in every action of my life, which though events may suspend, they cannot annihilate.—Alas, the only right I reserved to myself, was that of concealing aught which might render you unhappy. Suffer me then, to bury in this bosom, the combination of fatal events which tore us from each other. Need I tell you, they have wrung it even to phrenzy; for nothing less could have justified the premeditated shock I

cruelly gave you. The deep effect of my presence—perhaps (for why should I conceal it?) that
