While I was relating what had passed between me and Sir Arthur to Frank, and now again since I have been writing it to you, I accused myself of coldness, and of shrinking from or rather of half delivering the truth, lest Sir Arthur should think me a forward girl, or lest I should think myself capable of too sudden a change. But of the degree of that change do you, my friend, judge. I have at all times endeavoured to shew you my naked heart, and often have violently struggled against every disguise. I never concealed from myself that I thought more highly of Frank Henley than of Mr. Clifton; but I imagined principle taught me to prefer what principle now warns me to shun. I am more and more convinced of the error of marrying a bad man in order to make him good. I was not entirely ignorant of this before, and therefore flattered myself the good might be effected previous to marriage. I forgot, when passion has a purpose to obtain, how artful it is in concealment. I have another quarrel with myself, for having been so desirous of proving to my own conviction that the world's prejudices and the prejudices of my family ought to be respected, while that opinion accorded with my practice; and of being now so equally alert to prove the reverse. Such are the deceptions which the mind puts upon itself! For indeed I have been very desirous of acting with sincerity in both instances. I can only say that I feel more certain at present; for before I had doubts, and now I have none. If you suspect me to be influenced by inclination, tell me so without reserve. All good be with my friend! May she profit by my mistakes! A. W. ST. IVES LETTER CI _Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ _Rose-Bank_ You will perceive, Fairfax, I have changed the scene, and am now in the country. I have a long narrative to detail, and am sitting in an old hall with gloom and leisure enough to make it as tedious and as dull as you could wish. My poor mother has taken her last leave of us, and lies now a corpse in the room under me. I could be melancholy, or mad, or I know not what--But 'tis no matter--She brought me here unasked to make the journey of this world, and now I am obliged to jog on. Not that I think I should much care if it were shortened, nor how soon; except that I would live to have my revenge; and that I will have, little troubling myself though the next minute were certain to be my last. It rankles at my heart, and lies there corroding, biting, festering, night and day. I have quarrelled with my sister, and I am sure shall never forgive her; nor will she forgive me, so that we shall easily balance our accounts. This Anna St. Ives is her supreme favourite. But no wonder--No wonder--It would be strange if she were not! Still to be so ready to give up a brother, and write me such a letter as she did on the death of my mother! If I do not make her repent it Heaven renounce me!