Tell Clement that--yet stay--ask thy heart, Sibella, that heart in which love and disappointment mingle the bitter poison which corrodes the very vitals of thy peace, whether this is not the momentary effusion of a perhaps unfounded resentment?--Tell him not, Caroline: or, if thou tellest him aught, and I do commit an error, oh may the tear which accompanies prove its atonement! * * * * * Caroline, I am incompetent to judge of his situation. Cares and tumults may surround him, and add to the anguish of separation.--And you, my friend, ah beware how you judge him rashly! The tender heart of Clement repels every approach of harshness.--While you seek to investigate, you forgot to soothe.--I detest your picture of my Clement's mind.--Oh! how ill do you appreciate that soul, wherein the image of Sibella lives immoveably, and eternally, undivested of her sway by any outward form or circumstance!--'Tis true, indeed, Clement does attach to success and fortune in the world a value unfelt by me who know it not at all, and prized by you, only perhaps from its more intimate knowledge. But for whose sake is it, Caroline, that he dreads my uncle's resentment, that he would shrink to see me a pennyless outcast from Mr. Valmont's favour--is it not _mine_?--'Tis I, that am, however distantly removed its effects from all but the discerning eye of love, I am his actuating principle!--Does he ever dismiss this one dear ultimate object from his thought?--'tis because a lesser theme mixing therewith would degrade the loved idea.--Again undisturbed, self-possessed, his ardent mind returns to the dear remembrance of past, the still dearer anticipation of future, joys--when hourly, momentarily, they shall augment with the increase of years. Oh Clement, that love at one and the same instant created on our sympathizing hearts!--sustained, with mutual ardor, through the uniform but interesting years of childhood!--at length spurred on by dangers and denial to form its firmest, chastest tie!--is there a temptation on earth, or a horror in futurity, which could bribe or bid that love seek to extinguish its smallest hope, its least particle of enjoyment?--No! No! Never!--An impassable gulph is placed between that love and diminution.--A chasm wide, deep, immeasurable, as eternity! * * * * *