The content and serenity with which I have been blest of late, is inconsistent with my former declaration, and I confess you have cause to be surprized at the contrast. You were then a witness to my despair, and you now behold in me too much tranquility; hence you pronounce me inconstant and capricious. Be not, my good friend, too severe in your judgment. This heart of mine cannot be known in one day. Have patience, and, in time, you may probably discover it to be not unworthy your regard. Unless you were sensible how much I was shocked when I first detected my heart in its passion for you, it is impossible to form any idea of what I suffered. The maxims I imbibed in my education were so extremely severe, that love, however pure, seemed highly criminal. I was taught to believe, that a young girl of sensibility was ruined the moment she suffered a tender expression to pass her lips: my disordered imagination confounded the crime with the confession of my love, and I had conceived so terrible an idea of the first step, that I saw little or no interval between that and the last. An extreme diffidence of myself increased the alarm; the struggles of modesty appeared to be those of virtue; and the uneasiness of silence seemed the importunity of desire. The moment I had spoke I concluded myself lost beyond redemption; and yet I must have spoken, or have parted with you for ever. Thus, unable to disguise my sentiments, I endeavoured to excite your generosity, and depending rather upon you than on myself, I chose to engage your honour in my defence, as I could have little reliance on a resource of which I believed myself already deprived. I soon discovered my error: I had scarce opened my mind when I found myself much easier; the instant I received your answer I became perfectly calm; and two months experience has informed me that my too tender heart hath need of love, but that my senses can rest satisfied without a lover. Now judge, you who are a lover of virtue, what joy I must have felt at this discovery. Emerged from the profound ignominy into which my fears had plunged me, I now taste the delicious pleasure of a guiltless passion: it constitutes all my happiness; it hath influenced my temper and my health, I can conceive no paradise on earth equal to the union of love and innocence. I feared you no longer; and when I endeavoured to avoid being alone with you, it was rather for your sake than my own. Your eyes, your sighs betrayed more transport than prudence; but though _you_ had forgotten the bounds you yourself prescribed, _I_ should not. Alas, my friend, I wish I could communicate to you that tranquility of soul which I now enjoy! Would it were in my power to teach you to be contented and happy! What fear, what shame can imbitter our felicity? In the bosom of love we might talk of virtue without a blush. _E v’ è il piacer con l’ onestade accanto._