Fortune seconded this next project, and I foresaw the possibility of regaining the happiness I had lost: the desire of laying the fruits of my travels at the feet of my Julia, gave me as much industry as perseverance; I vanquished my natural indolence, and the tiresome disgust with which this new species of employment at first inspired me, and read and reflected during the time that business did not call my attention. Study soon ceased to appear painful: I acquired a passionate love for reading; my mind was insensibly enlightened, my ideas enlarged, and my heart became calm. Industry, reading, and thinking, recovered me, by degrees, from the soporiferous draught of indolence; religion likewise gave fortitude to reason, elevated my soul, and released me from the tyrannical empire of passion. This revolution in my temper and sentiments did not at all change my projects. ’Tis true, I had no longer that excessive and silly passion for Julia which had made us both so unhappy. I loved with less violence, with less self-interest, but with more certainty. Passion is always blind, selfish, and seeking its own satisfaction: friendship is founded upon esteem, owes all its power to virtue, is more affectionate, and the more affectionate it is, the more it is equitable and generous. I passed five years in Holland, during which time I was constantly fortunate in the business in which I was engaged; and at length, by extreme œconomy and unwearied assiduity, entirely re-established my fortune. I then thought of nothing but of once more visiting my own country. I imagined, with the most tender delight, the happiness I was going to regain, when falling at the feet of Julia, I might say to her, “I return worthy of you; I return to consecrate my life to your happiness.” Thus occupied by the most delightful of ideas, I departed from Holland, far, alas! from suspecting the blow I was about to receive. I had written to Sinclair, desiring him to inform Julia of my journey, and received an answer at Brussels; by which I learned Julia had had a fever, but at the same time the letter assured she had not been dangerously ill, and was almost recovered. The explanations which accompanied that letter prevented all uneasiness, and I continued my route with no other fear than that of seeing Julia more surprized than affected at my resolutions and return. I drew nearer and nearer to Paris, and at last, when within twenty leagues, I met Sinclair, who stopped my carriage, and descended from his own: I opened my door, and flew to embrace him; but as soon as my eyes met his, I shuddered: astonishment and terror rendered me speechless! Sinclair opened his arms to me, but his face was bathed in tears! I durst not ask the reason, and he had not the power to tell me. I expected the worst, and from that moment faithless fleeting joys forever forsook my heart!