My words cannot utter, but thy own heart perhaps can conceive, the rapture which thy confession of a change in thy opinions has afforded me. _All_ my prayers, Henry, have not been _merely_ for your return. Indeed, whatever might have been the dictates, however absolute the dominion, of passion, union with you would have been _very_ far from completing my felicity, unless our hopes and opinions, as well as our persons and hearts, were united. Now can I look up with confidence and exultation to the shade of my revered and beloved mother. Now can I safely invoke her presence and her blessing on a union which death will have no power to dissolve. Oh, what sweet peace, what serene transport, is there in the persuasion that the selected soul will continue forever to commune with _my_ soul, mingle with mine in its adoration of the same Divine Parent, and partake with me in every thought, in every emotion, both _here_ and _hereafter_! Never, my friend, without _this_ persuasion, _never_ should I have known one moment of true happiness. Marriage, indeed, instead of losing its attractions in consequence of your errors, drew thence only new recommendations, since with a zeal, a tenderness, and a faith like mine, my efforts to restore such a heart and such a reason as yours could not fail of success; but _till_ that restoration were accomplished, never, I repeat, should I have tasted repose even in _your_ arms. Poor Miss Jessup! She is dead, Henry,--yet not before she did thee and me poor justice. Her death-bed confession removed my mother's fatal suspicions. This confession and the perusal of all thy letters, and thy exile, which I afterwards discovered was known to her very early, though unsuspected by me till after her decease, brought her to regard thee with some compassion and some respect. I can write no more; but must not conclude till I have offered thee the tenderest, most fervent vows of a heart that ever was and always will be _thine own_. Witness, JANE TALBOT.