I have a valuable present made me by the same lady; and therefore hope you will not take it amiss, that, with abundance of thanks, I return your's by Mrs. Worden, whose sister I much approve of, and thank your ladyship for your kind recommendation of so worthy a person. We begin with so much good liking to one another, that I doubt not we shall be very happy together.
A moving letter, much more valuable to me than the handsome present, was put into my hands, at the same time with that; of which the following is a copy:
From Mrs. Wrightson (formerly Miss Sally Godfrey) to Mrs. B.
"HAPPY, DESERVEDLY HAPPY, DEAR LADY,
"Permit these lines to kiss your hands from one, who, though she is a stranger to your person, is not so to your character: that has reached us here, in this remote part of the world, where you have as many admirers as have heard of you. But I more particularly am bound to be so, by an obligation which I can never discharge, but by my daily prayers for you, and the blessings I continually implore upon you and yours.
"I can write my whole mind to you, though I cannot, from the most deplorable infelicity, receive from you the wished-for favour of a few lines in return, written with the same unreservedness: so unhappy am I, from the effects of an inconsideration and weakness on one hand, and temptation on the other, which you, at a tender age, most nobly, for your own honour, and that of your sex, have escaped: whilst I—but let my tears in these blots speak the rest—as my heart bleeds, and has constantly bled ever since, at the grievous remembrance—but believe, however, dear Madam, that 'tis shame and sorrow, and not pride and impenitence, that make me both to speak out, to so much purity of life and manners, my own odious weakness.
"Nevertheless, I ought, and I will accuse myself by name. Imagine then, illustrious lady, truly illustrious for virtues, infinitely superior to all the advantages of birth and fortune!—Imagine, I say, that in this letter, you see before you the once guilty, and therefore, I doubt, always guilty, but ever penitent, Sarah Godfrey; the unhappy, though fond and tender mother of the poor infant, to whom your generous goodness has, I hear, extended itself, so as to make you desirous of taking her under your worthy protection: God for ever bless you for it! prays an indulgent mother, who admires at an awful distance, that virtue in you, which she could not practise herself.
"And will you, dearest lady, take under your own immediate protection, the poor unguilty infant? will you love her, for the sake of her suffering mamma, whom you know not; for the sake of the gentleman, now so dear to you, and so worthy of you, as I hear, with pleasure, he is? And will you, by the best example in the world, give me a moral assurance, that she will never sink into the fault, the weakness, the crime (I ought not to scruple to call it so) of her poor inconsiderate-But you are her mamma now: I will not think of a guilty one therefore. What a joy is it to me, in the midst of my heavy reflections on my past misconduct, that my beloved Sally can boast a virtuous and innocent mamma, who has withstood the snares and temptations, that have been so fatal—elsewhere!—and whose example, and instructions, next to God's grace, will be the strongest fences to her honour!—Once more I say, and on my knees I write it, God for ever bless you here, and augment your joys hereafter, for your generous goodness to my poor, and, till now, motherless infant.
"I hope she, by her duty and obligingness, will do all in her little power to make you amends, and never give you cause to repent of this your unexampled kindness to her and to me. She cannot, I hope (except her mother's crime has had an influence upon her, too much like that of an original stain), be of a sordid, or an ungrateful nature. And, O my poor Sally! if you are, and if ever you fail in your duty to your new mamma, to whose care and authority I transfer my whole right in you, remember that you have no more a mamma in me, nor can you be entitled to my blessing, or my prayers, which I make now, on that only condition, your implicit obedience to all your new mamma's commands and directions.
"You may have the curiosity, Madam, to wish to know how I live: for no doubt you have heard all my sad, sad story!—Know, then, that I am as happy, as a poor creature can be, who has once so deplorably, so inexcusably fallen. I have a worthy gentleman for my husband, who married me as a widow, whose only child by my former was the care of her papa's friends, particularly of good Lacy Davers and her brother. Poor unhappy I! to be under such a sad necessity to disguise the truth!—Mr. Wrightson (whose name I am unworthily honoured by) has often entreated me to send for the poor child, and to let her be joined as his—killing thought, that it cannot be!—with two children I have by him!—Judge, my good lady, how that very generosity, which, had I been guiltless, would have added to my joys, must wound me deeper than even ungenerous or unkind usage from him could do! and how heavy that crime must lie upon me, which turns my very pleasures to misery, and fixes all the joy I can know, in repentance for my past misdeeds!—How happy are YOU, Madam, on the contrary; YOU, who have nothing of this sort to pall, nothing to mingle with your felicities! who, blessed in an honour untainted, and a conscience that cannot reproach you, are enabled to enjoy every well deserved comfort, as it offers itself; and can improve it too, by reflection on your past conduct! While mine, alas! like a winter frost, nips in the bud every rising satisfaction.