'You may suppose, that a mind like mine must have, repeatedly, set itself to examine, on every side, all that could possibly have a relation to a subject affecting it so materially. You have hinted at _mysterious_ obstacles to the wish, in which every faculty of my soul has been so long absorbed--the wish of forming with you, a connection, nearer, _and more tender_, than that of friendship. This mystery, by leaving room for conjecture (and how frequently have I warned you of this!), left room for the illusions of imagination, and of hope--left room for the suspicion, that you might, possibly, be sacrificing _your own feelings_ as well as mine, to a mistaken principle. Is it possible that you were not aware of this--you, who are not unacquainted with the nature of the mind! Still less were you ignorant of the nature of my mind--which I had so explicitly, so unreservedly, laid open! I had a double claim upon your confidence--a confidence, that I was utterly incapable of abusing, or betraying--a confidence, which must have stopped my mind in its career--which would have saved me the bitter, agonizing, pangs I have sustained. Mine were not common feelings--it is _obscurity_ and _mystery_ which has wrought them up to frenzy--_truth_ and _certainty_ would, long ere this, have caused them temporarily to subside into their accustomed channels. You understand little of the human heart, if you cannot conceive this--"Where the imagination is vivid, the feelings strong, the views and desires not bounded by common rules;--in such minds, passions, if not subdued, become ungovernable and fatal: where there is much warmth, much enthusiasm, there is much danger.--My mind is no less ardent than yours, though education and habit may have given it a different turn--it glows with equal zeal to attain its end."[11] Yes, I must continue to repeat, there has been in your conduct _one grand mistake_; and the train of consequences which may, yet, ensue, are uncertain, and threatening.--But, I mean no reproach--we are all liable to errors; and my own, I feel, are many, and various. But to return-- [Footnote 11: Holcraft's Anna St Ives.]