You will be prepared, my Lucy, for the resolution I have formed, of supplying to Miss Howard the loss of her parents, as far as I am able; to defeat the malice of her oppressor is a motive which I reject with disdain, as incompatible with my present state of mind. She shall be protected, Lucy, from better principles of action; and protected, as Mr. and Mrs. Howard's child ought to be protected. But I am not altogether satisfied with her remaining under the care of her good uncle. I wish to prepare her for a situation under the roof of her sister Rachel Cowley, when with the name of Hardcastle I shall be qualified to act as a mother to her. She would by remaining at the Abbey be precluded from those improvements she needs for the world; and Mrs. Heartley, whom I have consulted, is of my opinion, that her mind might be strengthened and benefited by being placed more remote from Tarefield, and the extreme tenderness of the Wilsons. She must, whilst with them, experience an attention which tends to confirm the habits of dependance, and to increase the natural timidity of her mind. But I wish to see Mary Howard my equal and friend. Let me have your opinion on this point; consult my dear father. Ask him whether his Rachel Cowley is right in her judgment,--that, with a simplicity which knoweth no evil, and a humility which needs encouragement, something more than the cultivation of the good affections is necessary, in order to meet the world. Mary, at the Abbey, will be made too _good_ for an acquaintance with it; and I wish her sphere of knowledge to be enlarged; yet I am aware of the hazard of entrusting her innocence and beauty the care of strangers; nor would the captain concur in such a plan. I am much perplexed on this point: my views being to produce Miss Howard as she _ought_ to be produced, and as her future provision will render necessary. You know me, Lucy; and you will not call the present object of my attention one unworthy of my principles, or unsuitable to my abilities. "I am an enthusiast," it will be said. This has been said a thousand and a thousand times by a cold-hearted apathy, which sees nothing beyond its own forlorn limits, and in its dread of deviating from that narrow path, rests stationary there, till its powers of action are irrecoverably torpid. Peace be with such! Rachel Cowley is contented to be an _enthusiast_, and still, "like the needle true," will she turn "at the touch of joy and woe;" though "in turning she trembles too." I shall expect to have your advice on this subject; being resolved to be governed by a discretion which has never failed to guide safely. LETTER XXI. _From the same to the same._