with a smile my too volatile spirits, “to divert my petulance and check my pride?” Where am I now to seek that friend, whose approbation, like the dew from heaven, tempered my rough elements with her own simple and mild virtues? We were formed, Lucy, to be each other’s aid and support. We are made for Heathcot and contentment. Will Mr. Hardcastle persist, think you, in thus defeating, as it appears to me, the designs of Providence? Oh no! nor can he long remain unconvinced that my father was incapable of defrauding his child of those rights of nature which he granted to his slaves. He cannot, Lucy, persist long in prohibiting Horace from writing to me. He must perceive the injustice, as well as severity, of his present conduct. Never to write to the companion of my youth, to a _brother_ endeared to me by a thousand and a thousand fond remembrances of pure and unimpassioned affection! Surely this is being too rigid! Such is not Mr. Hardcastle’s mind. He will relent in compassion to himself. In this hope only can I find a relief from my present state of mind. I cannot, Lucy, support my plan of conduct with fortitude whilst I find your father thinks meanly of me; and is it not obvious, that he believes me weak and childish? Why am I not to be confided in? His honour is my own; Horace’s disgrace would be my destruction; and, again I repeat it, I would not now marry your brother were the _world_ your father so much dreads, to solicit me to be his wife. No, Lucy, Horace Hardcastle shall have no accounts to settle with my new _guardian_! Farewell, I cannot proceed. Mrs. Allen’s blessing and your Rachel’s must not be omitted. She is contended with me, and bids me tell you that I am a very good girl. Will not this please you? You smile. LETTER II. _Miss Cowley, in continuation._ TAREFIELD.