The more I saw her, the more was her empire confirmed over me; but still dubious of the Countess's fate, and conscious of my pre-engagement, honor kept me silent. I had every reason to flatter myself my address would have been acceptable, but my passion was subordinate to that sense of honor my former obligations subjected me to. It is hard to account for the motions of the human heart, or trace the little springs that give rise to its affections--numberless latent accidents contribute to raise or allay them, without our being sensible of their secret influence. Thus situated, I came to England at your request. The uncertainty of the Countess's fate renders me wretched, while, to confess the truth, Mademoiselle de Querci haunts my imagination. But _your_ felicity alleviates _my_ uneasiness--as your joys or sorrows must ever be reverberated on the heart of Your ladyship's obliged And affectionate nephew, MUNSTER.' From Lady Eliza Finlay, to the Countess of Darnley. London. 'My Dear Aunt, This is a place I often wished to come to, but the peaceful satisfaction I have had in your company makes me in vain find it in your absence--everything I see, everything I hear, is so contrary to reason, that, without diverting one's self of that quality, it is impossible to be pleased with any thing, though the novelty may engage one's attention at first. All here appear to adopt the reigning ideas, and fashionable pursuits, with as much pleasure as I feel in conforming to the principles which your kind instructions and edifying example have implanted in my mind. They do not, however, appear to me to be happy, and, like comedians (who are not diverted with the amusement they occasion) regret being condemned to communicate a pleasure which they do not partake, and lament not having received, from a different education, other tastes, other talents, and other manners. I connect myself as little as possible with them; as in epidemic distempers we are only secure whilst we escape the touch of the contagious person; and with respect to wounds of the mind, they are like those of the body. These extravagancies I might, perhaps, some months ago have considered in a less serious manner, but the evident melancholy in which my brother is, shews me the vanity of everything in this world--So handsome in his person, so accomplished in his manners--possessing everything the world places a value on--and yet too apparently wretched. The Marquis of P----, Lord Sombre, and his other friends, endeavour in vain to rouse him out of his _reveries_.--You are possessed of such philosophy, that you may look upon this matter in another light; as for me, who have _strong passions_, and that inseparable companion of them, _weak reason_, I cannot help being seriously alarmed. My beloved brother