Had this truly generous man mentioned his intention to me, I ſhould have inſiſted on a thouſand pounds being ſettled on each of my ſiſters; George would have conteſted; I ſhould have ſeen his ſelfiſh ſoul; and—gracious God! have been ſpared the miſery of diſcovering, when too late, that I was united to a heartleſs, unprincipled wretch. All my ſchemes of uſefulneſs would not then have been blaſted. The tenderneſs of my heart would not have heated my imagination with viſions of the ineffable delight of happy love; nor would the ſweet duty of a mother have been ſo cruelly interrupted.
But I muſt not ſuffer the fortitude I have ſo hardly acquired, to be undermined by unavailing regret. Let me haſten forward to deſcribe the turbid ſtream in which I had to wade—but let me exultingly declare that it is paſſed—my ſoul holds fellowſhip with him no more. He cut the Gordian knot, which my principles, miſtaken ones, reſpected; he diſſolved the tie, the fetters rather, that ate into my very vitals—and I ſhould rejoice, conſcious that my mind is freed, though confined in hell itſelf; the only place that even fancy can imagine more dreadful than my preſent abode.
Theſe varying emotions will not allow me to proceed. I heave ſigh after ſigh; yet my heart is ſtill oppreſſed. For what am I reſerved? Why was I not born a man, or why was I born at all?
