st evening, I was told that Major Sanford was at home. I
immediately wrote him a billet, entreating and conjuring him to let me
know where the hapless Eliza had fled. He returned me the following
answer:--

"Miss Granby need be under no apprehensions respecting the situation of
our beloved Eliza. She is well provided for, conveniently accommodated,
and has every thing to make her happy which love and affluence can give.

"Major Sanford has solemnly sworn not to discover her retreat. She
wishes to avoid the accusations of her friends till she is better able
to bear them.

"Her mother may rest assured of immediate information, should any danger
threaten her amiable daughter; and also of having seasonable notice of
her safety."

Although little dependence can be placed upon this man, yet these
assurances have, in a great degree, calmed our minds. We are, however,
contriving means to explore the refuge of the wanderer, and hope, by
tracing his steps, to accomplish our purpose. This we have engaged a
friend to do.

I know, my dear Mrs. Sumner, the kind interest you will take in this
disastrous affair. I tremble to think what the event may be. To relieve
your suspense, however, I shall write you every circumstance as It
occurs; but at present, I shall only enclose Eliza's letters to her
mamma and me, and subscribe myself your sincere and obliged friend,

JULIA GRANBY.

LETTER LXVIII.

TO MRS. M. WHARTON.

TUESDAY.

My honored and dear mamma: In what words, in what language shall I
address you? What shall I say on a subject which deprives me of the
power of expression? Would to God I had been totally deprived of that
power before so fatal a subject required its exertion. Repentance comes
too late, when it cannot prevent the evil lamented: for your kindness,
your more than maternal affection towards me, from my infancy to the
present moment, a long life of filial duty and unerring rectitude could
hardly compensate. How greatly deficient in gratitude must I appear,
then, while I confess that precept and example, counsel and advice,
instruction and admonition, have been all lost upon me!

Your kind endeavors to promote my happiness have been repaid by the
inexcusable folly of sacrificing it. The various emotions of shame and
remorse, penitence and regret, which torture and distract my guilty
breast, exceed description. Yes, madam, your Eliza has fallen, fallen
indeed. She has become the victim of her own indiscre