when I
think that all the confidence I have had in the affection of others is
come to this.

I did not expect this blow from you. I have done my duty to you and my
child; and if I am not to have any return of affection to reward me, I
have the sad consolation of knowing that I deserved a better fate. My
soul is weary--I am sick at heart; and, but for this little darling, I
would cease to care about a life, which is now stripped of every charm.

You see how stupid I am, uttering declamation, when I meant simply to
tell you, that I consider your requesting me to come to you, as merely
dictated by honour.--Indeed, I scarcely understand you.--You request me
to come, and then tell me, that you have not given up all thoughts of
returning to this place.

When I determined to live with you, I was only governed by affection.--I
would share poverty with you, but I turn with affright from the sea of
trouble on which you are entering.--I have certain principles of action:
I know what I look for to found my happiness on.--It is not money.--With
you I wished for sufficient to procure the comforts of life--as it is,
less will do.--I can still exert myself to obtain the necessaries of life
for my child, and she does not want more at present.--I have two or three
plans in my head to earn our subsistence; for do not suppose that,
neglected by you, I will lie under obligations of a pecuniary kind to
you!--No; I would sooner submit to menial service.--I wanted the support
of your affection--that gone, all is over!--I did not think, when I
complained of ----'s contemptible avidity to accumulate money, that he
would have dragged you into his schemes.

I cannot write.--I inclose a fragment of a letter, written soon after
your departure, and another which tenderness made me keep back when it
was written.--You will see then the sentiments of a calmer, though not a
more determined, moment.--Do not insult me by saying, that "our being
together is paramount to every other consideration!" Were it, you would
not be running after a bubble, at the expence of my peace of mind.

Perhaps this is the last letter you will ever receive from me.

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER XXXVI.

Feb. 10.

YOU talk of "permanent views and future comfort"--not for me, for I am
dead to hope. The inquietudes of the last winter have finished the
business, and my heart is not only broken, but my constitution destroyed.
I conceive myse