Burchell in the world, no parental sway to guide me, in my present circumstances, I never would be yours. 'You have now before you my final determination. I shall trouble you no more on the subject. If your heart relents towards Miss Burchell, great will be your reward. In her you are sure of a tender, faithful, and charming friend; who will more than repay every act of kindness towards her; and he who is the author of justice and mercy will not fail to bless you. 'I am, &c'. Methinks, my dear friend, I have now eased my heart of a load that oppressed it. What can I say more? Mr Faulkland now knows my determined purpose in regard to myself; and if he is not quite insensible, I think Miss Burchell must at last obtain the wish of her soul. Oh, my Cecilia, I would not have my heart devoured by such a flame as her's, for the whole world. But have I not acted as I should do? I hope I have; I feel satisfied with my own conduct, and I never yet found that to be the case when I acted wrong. There are some nice points, in which our own hearts are the best, as well as the most impartial judges. If Mr Faulkland persists in rejecting poor Miss Burchell, I can urge him no farther; but I am determined not to see him. _June 25_ How uneasy has been my suspense these three days! I question if Miss Burchell's is much greater. No answer from this strange man; perhaps he is flown off again.--No, I wrong him, a letter is this minute brought up to me from him--Read it, my beloved, and congratulate me. 'You were born to conquer. Madam; what is there that you cannot effect? My heart was made for you, and you can mould it as you please. Enjoy your triumph, if it be one. I will receive Miss Burchell as _your_ gift, and since I cannot obtain your love, I will at least compel your esteem. Why should _your_ generosity, _your_ compassion for an unhappy lady, to whom you have no obligation, exceed that of a man who owns himself bound to her in gratitude? I wish I could repay her the debt of love I owe her, but I will try to repair my fault hereafter; and in her gentle bosom perhaps I may recover that peace, to which I have been so long a stranger. She will forgive the waywardness of a heart, which never disguised its anguish to her; and which she knows has been torn by a cruel passion, that, like a cruel disease, was not either to be resisted or subdued. But thanks to you, Madam, I think I begin to feel my cure approaching. Miss Burchell's tenderness will finish what you have begun. You shall never reproach me more; if I _ever_ had an interest in your heart, I will not forfeit it now, but make that proud heart acknowledge, spite of itself, that Faulkland was not unworthy of it.'