immovable than if there was some real ground for them. Our aunts and
grandmothers always tell us that men are a sort of animals, that, if
they are constant, 'tis only where they are ill used. 'Twas a kind of
paradox I could never believe: experience has taught me the truth of it.
You are the first I ever had a correspondence with, and I thank God I
have done with it for all my life. You needed not to have told me you
are not what you have been: one must be stupid not to find a difference
in your letters. You seem, in one part of your last, to excuse yourself
from having done me any injury in point of fortune. Do I accuse you of
any?

"I have not spirits to dispute any longer with you. You say you are not
yet determined: let me determine for you, and save you the trouble of
writing again. Adieu for ever! make no answer. I wish, among the variety
of acquaintance, you may find some one to please you; and can't help the
vanity of thinking, should you try them all, you won't find one that
will be so sincere in their treatment, though a thousand more deserving,
and every one happier. 'Tis a piece of vanity and injustice I never
forgive in a woman, to delight to give pain; what must I think of a man
that takes pleasure in making me uneasy? After the folly of letting you
know it is in your power, I ought in prudence to let this go no farther,
except I thought you had good nature enough never to make use of that
power. I have no reason to think so: however, I am willing, you see, to
do you the highest obligation 'tis possible for me to do; that is, to
give you a fair occasion of being rid of me."


There is now another break in the (preserved) correspondence until the
end of February, 1711, and then Lady Mary, writing with more than a
tinge of bitterness, broke off all relations with him--or, at least,