The next morning, I arose, somewhat refreshed; my exhausted strength and spirits had procured me a few hours of profound slumber. A degree of resentment gave a temporary firmness to my nerves. 'What happiness (I repeated to myself) could I have expected with a man, thus regardless of my feelings?' I composed my spirits--_hope was at an end_--into a sort of sullen resignation to my fate--a half stupor! At noon the letter arrived, coldly, confusedly written; methought there appeared even a degree of irritation in it. '_Another, a prior attachment_--His behaviour had been such, as necessarily resulted from such an engagement--unavoidable circumstances had prevented an earlier reply.' My swollen heart--but it is enough--'He blamed my impatience--he would, in future, perhaps, when my mind had attained more composure, make some remarks on my letter.' CHAPTER VIII To write had always afforded a temporary relief to my spirits--The next day I resumed my pen. TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY. 'If, after reflecting upon, and comparing, many parts of your past conduct, you can acquit yourself, at the sacred bar of humanity--it is well! How often have I called for--urged, with all the energy of truth and feeling--but in vain--such a letter as you have at length written--and, _even now_, though somewhat late, I thank you for it. Yet, what could have been easier, than to repeat so plain and so simple a tale? The vague hints, you had before given, I had repeatedly declared to be insufficient. Remember, all my earnestness, and all my simplicity, and _learn the value of sincerity_! "Oh! with what difficulty is an active mind, once forced into any particular train, persuaded to desert it as hopeless!"[12] [Footnote 12: Godwin's Caleb Williams.] 'This recital, then, was not to be confirmed, till the whole moral conformation of my mind was affected--till the barbed arrow had fixed, and rankled in, and poisoned, with its envenomed point, every vein, every fibre, of my heart. This, I confess, is now the case--Reason and self-respect sustain me--but the wound you have inflicted _is indelible_--it will continue to be the corroding canker at the root of my peace. My youth has been worn in anguish--and the summer of life will probably be overshadowed by a still thicker and darker cloud. But I mean not to reproach you--it is not given me to contribute to your happiness--the dearest and most ardent wish of my soul--I would not then inflict unnecessary pain--yet, I would fix upon your mind, the value of _unequivocal sincerity_.