I could not have much conversation with her, in thy favour, upon it.--But
what passed will make thee more and more adore her.

She was very attentive to me, as I read it; and, when I had done, Poor
man! said she; what a letter is this! He had timely instances that my
temper was not ungenerous, if generosity could have obliged him! But his
remorse, and that for his own sake, is all the punishment I wish him.--
Yet I must be more reserved, if you write to him every thing I say!

I extolled her unbounded goodness--how could I help it, though to her
face!

No goodness in it! she said--it was a frame of mind she had endeavoured
after for her own sake. She suffered too much in want of mercy, not to
wish it to a penitent heart. He seems to be penitent, said she; and it
is not for me to judge beyond appearances.--If he be not, he deceives
himself more than any body else.

She was so ill that this was all that passed on the occasion.

What a fine subject for tragedy, would the injuries of this lady, and her
behaviour under them, both with regard to her implacable friends, and to
her persecutor, make! With a grand objection as to the moral,
nevertheless;* for here virtue is punished! Except indeed we look
forward to the rewards of HEREAFTER, which, morally, she must be sure of,
or who can? Yet, after all, I know not, so sad a fellow art thou, and so
vile an husband mightest thou have made, whether her virtue is not
rewarded in missing thee: for things the most grievous to human nature,
when they happen, as this charming creature once observed, are often the
happiest for us in the event.