ming from the hand which you once
sought, will not be unacceptable.

Pope very justly observes, that "every year is a critic on the last."
The truth of this observation is fully exemplified in my years. How
severely this condemns the follies of the preceding, my own heart alone
can testify.

I shall not offer any palliation or apology for my misconduct. You told
me it admitted none. I frankly confess it; and if the most humble
acknowledgment of my offences, with an assurance that they have cost me
the deepest repentance, can in any degree atone for them, I now make
that atonement. Casting off the veil of dissimulation, I shall write
with frankness, believing you possessed of more honor than to make any
ungenerous use of the confidence reposed in you.

To say that I ever esteemed you may, perhaps, appear paradoxical when
compared with certain circumstances which occurred during our
acquaintance; but to assert that I loved you may be deemed still more
so. Yet these are real facts--facts of which I was then sensible, and by
which I am now more than ever affected.

I think you formerly remarked that absence served but to heighten real
love. This I find by experience. Need I blush to declare these
sentiments, when occasion like this calls for the avowal? I will go even
further, and offer you that heart which you once prized, that hand which
you once solicited. The sentiments of affection which you then
cultivated, though suppressed, I flatter myself are not wholly
obliterated. Suffer me, then, to rekindle the latent flame, to revive
that friendship and tenderness which I have so foolishly neglected. The
endeavor of my future life shall be to reward your benevolence, and
perhaps we may yet be happy together.

But let not this offer of myself constrain you. Let not pity influence
your conduct. I would have your return, if that pleasing event take
place, a voluntary act. Receive, or consent not to confer, happiness.

I thought it a duty which I owed to you, and to myself, to make this
expiation, this sacrifice of female reserve, for the wrongs I have done
you. As such I wish you to accept it; and if your affections are
entirely alienated or otherwise engaged, if you cannot again command the
respect and love which I would recall, do not despise me for the
concessions I have made. Think as favorably of my past faults and of my
present disposition as charity will allow. Continue, if possible, to be
my friend, though you cea