Memoirs of Emma Courtney

temporary relief to my spirit

USTUS

a letter as you have at length written-and, even now, though somewhat late, I thank you for it. Yet, what could have been easier, than to repeat so plain and so simple a tale? The vague hints, you had before given, I had repeatedly de

case-Reason and self-respect sustain me-but the wound you have inflicted is indelible-it will continue to be the corroding canker at the root of my peace. My youth has been worn in anguish-and the summer of life will probably be overshadowed by a still thic

xistence had depended. It is true, you did not directly deceive me-but is that enough for the delicacy of humanity? May the past be an affecting lesson to us both-it is written upon my mind in characters of blood. I feel, and

fer, and to combat with, if not to subdue, my feelings-and certainty, itself, is some relief. I am, also, supported by the retrospect of my conduct; with all its mistakes, and all its extravagances, it has been tha

ant, to have relieved and soothed a fellow-creature in a situation, so full of pain and peril. Every thought, during a day scarcely to be recollected without agony, was a two-e

tionally and tenderly-but passionately-it became a pervading and a devouring fire! And, yet, I do not blush-my affection was modest, if intemperate, for it was individual-it annihilated in my eyes every other man in the creation. I regret these natural sensations and affections, their forcible suppression injures the mind-it converts the mild current of gentle, and genial sympathies,

ions in their full career-in all thei

e r

forehead of an

d a blist

ve, not for future enjoyment-that is now, for ever,

lancholy satisfaction in hearing of its completion-In that completion, may you experience no disappointment! I do not wish you to be beloved, as I have lo

alamity, befalling you, I shall, I suspect, be impelled, by an irresistible impulse to seek you-but I will

sh, call upon her to relinquish, her prejudices-should she refuse, she is unworthy of you, and you will regret, too late, the tender, faithful, ingenuous heart, that you have pierced through and through-that you have

-and I feel sinking into helpless, infantine, distress! Hasten to me your promised remarks-they will rouse, they will strengthen, me-Truth

edge of the secret springs and foldings of our hearts. Methinks, I could wis

ring nature will be far less painful-but my philosophy, now, sternly ca

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r ourselves is attended with advantages. But this apparent calm was the lethargy of despair-it was su

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