Mr. _Agnew_ sayd to me this Morning, somewhat gravelie, "I observe, _Cousin_, you seem to consider yourselfe the Victim of Circumstances." "And am I not?" I replied. "No," he answered, "Circumstance is a false God, unrecognised by the Christian, who contemns him, though a stubborn yet a profitable Servant."--"That may be alle very grand for a Man to doe," I sayd. "Very grand, but very feasible, for a Woman as well as a Man," rejoined Mr. _Agnew_, "and we shall be driven to the Wall alle our Lives, unless we have this victorious Struggle with Circumstances. I seldom allude, _Cousin_, to yours, which are almoste too delicate for me to meddle with; and yet I hardlie feele justified in letting soe many opportunities escape. Do I offend? or may I go on?--Onlie think, then, how voluntarilie you have placed yourself in your present uncomfortable Situation. The Tree cannot resist the graduall Growth of the Moss upon it; but you might, anie Day, anie Hour, have freed yourself from the equallie graduall Formation of the Net that has enclosed you at last. You entered too hastilie into your firste--nay, let that pass,--you gave too shorte a Triall of your new Home before you became disgusted with it. Admit it to have beene dull, even unhealthfulle, were you justified in forsaking it at a Month's End? But your Husband gave you Leave of Absence, though obtayned on false Pretences.--When you found them to be false, should you not have cleared yourself to him of Knowledge of the Deceit? Then your Leave, soe obtayned, expired--shoulde you not have returned then?--Your Health and Spiritts were recruited; your Husband wrote to reclaim you--shoulde you not have returned then? He provided an Escort, whom your Father beat and drove away.--If you had insisted on going to your Husband, might you not have gone _then_? Oh, _Cousin_, you dare not look up to Heaven and say you have been the Victim of Circumstances." I made no Answer; onlie felt much moven, and very angrie. I sayd, "If I wished to goe back, Mr. _Milton_ woulde not receive me now." "Will you try?" sayd _Roger_. "Will you but let me try? Will you let me write to him?" I had a Mind to say "Yes."--Insteade, I answered "No." "Then there's an End," cried he sharplie. "Had you made but one fayre Triall, whether successfulle or noe, I coulde have been satisfied--no, not satisfied, but I woulde have esteemed you, coulde have taken your Part. As it is, the less I say just now, perhaps, the better. Forgive me for having spoken at alle." ----Afterwards, I hearde him say to _Rose_ of me, "I verilie believe there is Nothing in her on which to make a permanent Impression. I verilie think she loves everie one of those long Curls of hers more than she loves Mr. _Milton_." (Note:--I will cut them two Inches shorter tonight. And they will grow all the faster.) . . . Oh, my sad Heart, _Roger Agnew_ hath pierced you at last!