LETTER XXXVII.
Mrs. Holmes to Myra.
Belleview, 12 o’clock at night.
I CANNOT rest—this affair lies so heavy on my mind, that sleep flies from my eye-lids. Your brother must discontinue his addresses to Harriot—with what should I not have to upbraid myself, if, through my remissness—your brother marries his sister! GREAT God! of what materials hast thou compounded the hearts of thy creatures! admire, O, my friend! the operation of NATURE—and the power of SYMPATHY!
Harriot IS YOUR SISTER! I dispatch the bearer at this late hour to confide in your bosom the important secret!
Adieu!