“Forget, my beloved wife, that Charles Duncan ever had existence, or that, in the miserable course of that existence, he has involved yours in his misery, blasted the hopes of your youth, and planted daggers in your faithful bosom. Forget, if thou canst forget, when pressing to thy maternal bosom, the fruit of thy ill-fated union, the wandering, wretched father of thy babe: or with pity and forgiveness think of him, as one at _rest_; rescued from ignominy: concealed from the cruel mockery of scorn; welcoming, at this moment, the approach of his deliverer; and looking forwards with humble hope to an eternity, in which he will be recompensed for the trials of his mortal state, and pardoned for those mistakes, into which his youth and frailty betrayed him. I enclose the copy of my will, with some of your dear letters: with these you will receive your picture, but I cannot spare it from my bosom, whilst my trembling hand is able to raise it to my lips, or do more than sign the name of thy repentant, yet faithful, A time was allowed me for my sorrow, and recovery from a fever of much danger; but which was, I believe, of use to my general health; for I certainly was less liable to illness, after this crisis. I experienced something of those sentiments, which the dying Duncan had suggested. I rejoiced that he was at peace; and considered my fate as ascertained. I could not know more of grief, than I had experienced; and in a submission, which necessity, and, I hope also, religion enforced, I settled into a calm and resigned frame of mind. My extreme bodily weakness favoured for a time this more placid condition of my spirits; and my recovery promised to my tender and assiduous brother, a renewal of his comforts. He soon mentioned Mr. Duncan’s donation. He told me, “that knowing, as I did, that both Keith and his wife were dead; he thought it was much the most prudent measure to let the property remain on the stock books, as it had done from the time of Mrs. Duncan’s committing her money and her reputed son to his trust, till such time, as he should become of age. His quitting England within three or four months of his being so,” continued my brother, “prevented any settlement or transfer of the stock, but he was mistaken in his opinion of his fortune; for it amounts to no more than two thousand pounds.” I answered with sincerity that I regarded it, whatever it might be, as a common fund; and should leave to him the disposal of it as most useful to our common comfort; and being persuaded that I should not live long, I thought it could not be better than as it was. He laughed at my prophetic fears, assuring me that the physician had told him I stood a better chance of being well than when at Kensington; and he left me with a cheerfulness, which soothed me. His attentions did not slacken. He saw with satisfaction my returning activity, and frequently observed, that I was never more beautiful. By degrees he prevailed on my reluctance to