if I cannot conquer it, to
conceal it at least will be a duty. I have learnt to suffer, but was
never yet taught disguise and hypocrisy; herein will consist my greatest
difficulty; I abhor deceit, and yet must not shew the real sentiments of
my heart. Linked in society with a man I cannot love, the world can
afford me no pleasure, indeed no comfort, for I am insensible to all joy
but what arises from the social affections. The grave, I confess,
appears to me far more eligible than this marriage, for I might there
hope to be at peace. Mr Morgan's fortune is large, but his mind is
narrow and ungenerous, and his temper plainly not good. If he really
loved me, he could not suffer me to be forced into a marriage which he
well knows I detest: a knowledge which will not mend my fate, most
certainly.

'Could I enjoy the pleasures of self-approbation, it would be impossible
to be very wretched, but the most exact performance of my duty will not
yield me that gratification, since I cannot be perfectly satisfied that
I do right in marrying a man so very disagreeable to me. I fear the
pride of reputation influences me more than I imagine, and though it is
as justifiable as any pride, yet still it is certainly no virtue.'

'When I reflect,' said she afterwards, 'on the step I am going to take,
my terrors are inexpressible; how dreadful is it at my age, when nature
seems to promise me so many years of life, to doom myself to a state of
wretchedness which death alone can terminate, and wherein I must bury
all my sorrows in silence, without even the melancholy relief of pouring
them forth in the bosom of my friend, and seeking, from her tender
participation, the only consolation I could receive! For after this
dreaded union is completed, duty will forbid me to make my distresses
known, even to my Louisa; I must not then expose the faults of him whose
slightest failings I ought to conceal. One only hope remains, that you,
my first and dearest friend, will not abandon me; that whatever cloud of
melancholy may hang over my mind, yet you will still bear with me, and
remove your abode to a place where I may have the consolation of your
company. If it be in my power to make my house a comfortable habitation
to my Louisa, I cannot be entirely wretched.'

Miss Mancel gave her the tenderest assurances of fixing at least in her
neighbourhood, since a second paradise could not recompense her for the
loss of her society; and that on no terms cou