Your next accounts of my poor aunt, will, I hope, be more favourable. Stanley entirely approves of your conciliating her affections by all the means in your power; and has no doubt that they are the very best handmaids to religion. He bids me say that you must not be discouraged if you cannot prevail at _first_. Be patient, and even five minutes seriously employed, when the heart is sincere, will not be _lost_. A few bits of coloured paper have nothing in their manufacture more inimical to the great cause, than any other trifles which serve to alienate the mind from its most important concerns. This is Stanley’s opinion. Adieu, _mon ami_, Ever your faithful friend F. DOUGLAS. LETTER XLV. EMILY DOUGLAS TO JULIA SANDFORD. _Turin._ Oh, my dearest Julia, in what words shall I describe the horror and consternation in which we have been thrown by the awful event mentioned to your aunt in Alfred Stanley’s last letter? A week has passed since the dreadful catastrophe, and I have not slept since, so great is the shock that it produced. The particulars are as I will now endeavour to detail them. On the evening of this day se’nnight we were returning, a numerous party, from a walk in the direction of Rivoli, when passing by a large house removed at a little distance from the outskirts of this town, and separated from the road by a thick plantation, we were violently startled by the noise of a pistol-shot, followed by a shriek so piercing, that I shall never cease to remember its shrillness. Mr. Otway, Fanny, Charles Falkland, and I, were foremost, and reached the spot whence these affrighting sounds proceeded before the rest came up; and scarcely had we arrived opposite the door, ere a frantic figure rushed from it, and fell down at our feet! Charles and Mr. Otway raised her from the earth, but she was pale as death, and quite insensible. I ran eagerly to a stream which was just by, and filling the crown of my straw hat with water, was hastening back, when I perceived that she was supported by a young and beautiful woman in deep mourning, who was recognized at the first glance by Fanny to be the Madame de Lisle, of whom I told you in a former letter. The object of our anxiety remained motionless, while the gentlemen, who were now joined by Alfred, George, and Frederick, flew into the house, where all was confusion: servants running to and fro; some of whom were employed in placing the body of a young man, who had just blown his brains out, on a bed. It was growing dark, and the shade of the trees rendered it impossible to see any thing clearly; but on Frederick’s return from the house, where some of the people had told him that the lady who had fainted was wife to Monsieur le Marchand, who was a _negociant_ from Bourdeaux, and had destroyed himself in consequence,