LETTER LI
Sunday Morning.
The captain laſt night, after I had written my letter to you intended to be left at a little village, offered to go to —— to paſs to-day. We had a troubleſome ſail—and now I muſt hurry on board again, for the wind has changed.
I half expected to find a letter from you here. Had you written one haphazard, it would have been kind and conſiderate—you might have known, had you thought, that the wind would not permit me to depart. Theſe are attentions, more grateful to the heart than offers of ſervice—But why do I fooliſhly continue to look for them?
Adieu! adieu! My friend—your friendſhip is very cold—you ſee I am hurt.—God bleſs you! I may perhaps be, ſome time or other, independent in every ſenſe of the word—Ah! there is but one ſenſe of it of conſequence. I will break or bend this weak heart—yet even now it is full.
Yours ſincerely
* * * *
The child is well; I did not leave her on board.