 repose, and we awoke only sufficiently recruited to be able to weep.
We were then visited by Mr. Howard, who sympathized in our sufferings with a degree of feeling that must for ever endear him to our hearts. Ah, Mr. Howard! cried I, the moment I could articulate for my tears—where, where are those fatal papers of my dear, dear father's,

which have been intrusted to your care? have you yourself perused them? Tell me, for heaven's sake! are the contents too horrible—are they such as we shall be able to read and not expose.
I will not attempt to conceal from you, said he, with the tenderest compassion, though not without hesitation, that they are of such a nature as must both hurt and affect you; yet there are mingled in this distressing narrative, so many alleviating circumstances to soften censure and silence condemnation, that I hope the communication will shock neither of you too severely, when you are in a situation to receive the information with more composure than it can be supposed you at present possess.
Oh! cried Fanny, can any thing augment our present misery? or if that were indeed possible, must not suspence more effectually add to it than any intelligence we can now receive? I was in hopes of

having time granted me, said he, to soften the communication by degrees; but since you are so violently alarmed, I believe any certainty is almost preferable to your present state of suspence. I shall therefore bring you the packet; I only entreat that you will allow me, before you open it, the favour of one half hour's conversation, that I may be satisfied I do not commit too great an imprudence in venturing to intrust you with it.
This worthy man then began to hint at its contents; but in spite of all his endeavours to palliate and soften the sad recital, the shock entirely overpowered us; yet I insisted on knowing all; and breathless with terror, received the dreadful manuscript from his hands.
Let me make but one observation, cried he, on delivering it: the years of self reproach and anguish, which succeeded to your father's errors, so pathetically

described by himself, more than atone for his faults. This penitence, his deep felt sense of every breach of duty, and the unerring rectitude of his mind and conduct the instant he was awakened from the delirium of passion, even convince me there was inherent in his bosom, a secret sentiment of superior virtue, which, however obscured and suppressed by the force of misguided feelings and the
