'Had the happiness of any human being, the meanest, the vilest, depended as much upon me, as mine has done on you, I would have sacrificed, for their relief, the dearest secret of my heart--the secret, even upon which my very existence had depended. It is true, you did not directly deceive me--but is that enough for the delicacy of humanity? May the past be an affecting lesson to us both--it is written upon my mind in characters of blood. I feel, and acknowledge, my own errors, in yielding to the illusion of vague, visionary, expectation; but my faults have originated in a generous source--they have been the wild, ardent, fervent, excesses, of a vigorous and an exalted mind! 'I checked my tears, as they flowed, and they are already dried--uncalled, unwished, for--why do they, thus, struggle to force their way? my mind has, I hope, too much energy, utterly to sink--I know what it is to suffer, and to combat with, if not to subdue, my feelings--and _certainty_, itself, is some relief. I am, also, supported by the retrospect of my conduct; with all its mistakes, and all its extravagances, it has been that of a virtuous, ingenuous, uncorrupted, mind. You have contemned a heart of no common value, you have sported with its exquisite sensibilities--but it will, still, know how to separate your virtues from your errors. 'You reprove, perhaps justly, my impatience--I can only say, that circumstanced as you were, I should have stolen an hour from rest, from company, from business, however, important, to have relieved and soothed a fellow-creature in a situation, so full of pain and peril. Every thought, during a day scarcely to be recollected without agony, _was a two-edged sword_--but some hours of profound and refreshing slumber recruited my exhausted spirits, and enabled me, yesterday, to receive my fate, with a fortitude but little hoped for.