“When you have read this, you will, I fear, be tempted to upbraid and curse the writer; but I act according to my conscience, to my sense of honour, in imparting to you what I am going to unfold—at least, you shall not _now_ accuse me of deceiving you—I think, I trust, I never have done so; for little as you have, I believe, lived in the world, still, unless purposely, artfully concealed from you, you must have been aware, that my affections have long since been disposed of, and that, at my return from abroad, they were no longer mine to bestow. “Under such circumstances, I never should have renewed the offer of my _hand_; but parental authority, and the distressing and perplexing situation in which I found myself placed, extracted from me my consent to our marriage. But even in so doing, I did not attempt to _deceive_. You cannot accuse me of having, in any way, endeavoured to gain your affections. You saw me as I was, indifferent to you, and you were at liberty to refuse me: but you were content to become my wife on these terms—that is to say, of bearing my name, and sharing the poor advantages which rank affords. “These you still _may_, still _shall_ enjoy: but nothing more can I offer you; for every feeling of my soul is another’s—forgive me for saying so; but this is no moment for disguise of any sort. To that other, I am bound by every tie, every vow of affection and honour. You will be shocked at hearing such sentiments from _me_—from your _husband_; but I should consider myself to be indeed the unprincipled villain you may deem me, if, with such feelings, I could, for a minute, look upon you in any other light than that of a sister. I know full well what love is; and you do not, cannot love me. Therefore I feel not your injuries to be what they otherwise would. You shall enjoy all the worldly advantages you have sought in your marriage with me—all the happiness which wealth—your own wealth—can bestow; and it shall be my endeavour, as far as I can, to make your life happy. You shall be completely mistress in your own house, and of all your actions. Your comfort shall ever be consulted; and I think can venture to say for myself, that you may depend on my kindness, and even on my friendship; but my affections as a _lover_, as a _husband_, while the same heart beats in my breast, can never be yours.