Louisa, how shall I describe my anguish of heart at seeing all those hopes of a mind so extraordinary, for extraordinary it is even in guilt, at once overthrown? It was indeed iteration of anguish! What! Can guile so perfectly assume the garb of sincerity? Can hypocrisy wear so impenetrable a mask? How shall we distinguish? What guide have we? How be certain that the next seeming virtuous man we meet is not a--Well, well, Louisa--I will remember--Brother. My Louisa knows it is not from the person, but from the vice that I turn away with disgust. Would I willingly give her heart a pang? Let her tell me if she can suspect it. She has fortitude, she has affection; but it is an affection for virtue, truth, and justice. She will endeavour to reform error the most obdurate. So will I, so will all that are worthy the high office. But she will not wish me either to marry with or to countenance this error. Marry?--how does my soul shudder at the thought! His reasoning was just; seduction would have been a petty injury, or rather a blessing, compared to this master evil! He was most merciful when he meant me, as he thought, most destruction. I have been guilty of a great error. The reformation of man or woman by projects of marriage is a mistaken a pernicious attempt. Instead of being an act of morality, I am persuaded it is an act of vice. Let us never cease our endeavours to reform the licentious and the depraved, but let us not marry them. The letter had not been delivered more than two hours before Frank arrived. You may think, Louisa, how hard he had ridden; but he refused to imagine himself fatigued. He brought another letter, which Abimelech had received, but which for some hours he obstinately refused to give up, and for this reason Frank sent off the express. A letter, not of Clifton's writing, but of his invention and sending! Finding that Frank was likely to prevail on his father to raise the money for Sir Arthur, and obviate all further impediments to our marriage, Clifton, fearful that it should take place, wrote anonymously to Abimelech, to inform him I was in love with Frank, and to encourage him to persist. But read the letter yourself; the following is a true copy of it[1]. [Footnote 1: The reader has already perused it in Letter XCIV, to which he is referred.]. If such a letter be his, I am sure, Louisa, you will not say I have thought or spoken too unkindly of him; and that it is his we have indubitable proof, though it was anonymous and not in his handwriting.