 contents of her letter abated the pleasure I received from seeing that her hand had superscribed it? this little circumstance gave me an idea of your perfect recovery, while the same characters on the inside, trace out a tale of unhappiness and distress! and who can hope for health, while the mind suffers?
There is something very extraordinary, in the adventure you have met with,

at Waltersburgh; but your surmise on that occasion does not appear to me to have the least foundation—on the contrary, I would almost hazard any bett, that Lord Lucan was incapable of treating you with such disrespect. It is impossible, I think, from the whole contour of his character, to suppose that he could be guilty of such an outrage to decency and honour; still more incredible to believe, that he should never since have thought proper to offer any sort of excuse for such a behaviour, especially as he proceeded so far as to frame an opportunity to himself for doing so, by the respectful freedom of his letter to you; for an action too, which was so unfortunate in its consequences, to the woman he loves—for that he loves, is but too obvious.

Who then could it be? That indeed, I must be at a loss to answer, any more than yourself.—I am half persuaded, and I wish I was intirely so, that it was only a dream—But be that as it may, I think you were perfectly right, in concealing the affair from Sir William, as the knowledge of it must have been fatal, at least to his repose, and yours.
I am very sorry, that Sir William should have shewn more regret for the loss of his son, than concern for your illness; but parental fondness is, I fear, a stronger and more general affection, in male minds, than conjugal love.—But, indeed, my dear, you deserve a little mortification for your false delicacy, in concealing your situation from him; so kiss the rod, and have done

whimpering, as we say to naughty children.
I most earnestly wish that the business of parliament had not called Sir William from home, at this juncture; I long till he and you are settled in a domestic way, at Southfield—I own I am alarmed at a married woman's meeting with adventures of the ← novel → kind—in the absence of her husband—
" The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
" Safest and seemliest by her husband stays,
" Who guards her, or with her the worst endures."

To say truth, I think you in almost as much danger
