introduced us to all his friends, among whom is the marquis; and, as we
are intimate with our ambassador, we have more invitations than we can
accept, and acquaintance than we can cultivate. Frank is to go with us.

And now, Louisa, with anxiety I own, my mind is far from satisfied. I
have not thought sufficiently to convince myself, yet act as though I
had. It is little less than open war between your brother and Frank.
The supposition of a duty, too serious to be trifled with, has induced
me to favour rather than repulse the too eager advances of Clifton;
though this supposed duty has been but half examined.

The desire to retrieve mind cannot but be right; yet the mode may be
wrong.

At this moment my heart bitterly reproaches me, for not proceeding on
more certain principles. The merit of Frank is great, almost beyond the
power of expression. I need not tell my Louisa which way affection,
were it encouraged, would incline: but I will not be its slave. Nor can
I reproach myself for erring on that side; but for acting, in
resistance to inclination, with too little reserve. No arguments I
believe can shew me that I have a right to sport with the feelings of
my father, and my friends; though those feelings are founded in
prejudice. But my inquiries shall be more minute; and my resolves will
then be more permanent and self-complacent.

Adieu, my best and dearest friend. Write often: reprove me for all that
I do amiss--Would my mind were more accordant with itself! But I will
take it roundly to task.

A. W. ST. IVES