itself; and only subdued by the superior thirst of gain.

Poor Frank Henley! Is it not miraculous that such a father should have
such a son? I am tempted to give utterance to a strange thought! Why
should I not? What is the opinion of the world; what are its
prejudices, in the presence of truth? Yet not to respect them is to
entail upon ourselves I know not what load of acrimony, contempt, and
misery! I must speak--I never yet met a youth whom I thought so
deserving of Anna St. Ives as Frank Henley! The obstacles you will say
are insurmountable. Alas! I fear they are. And therefore 'tis fortunate
that the same thought has not more strongly occurred to you. Perhaps my
caution would have been greater, but that I know your affections are
free; and yet I confess I wonder that they are so. If it be the effect
of your reason, the praise you merit is infinite: and I hope and
believe it is; for, notwithstanding all the tales I have heard and
read, my mind is convinced of nothing more firmly than that the passion
of love is as capable of being repressed, and conquered, as any other
passion whatever: and you know we have both agreed that the passions
are all of them subject to reason, when reason is sufficiently
determined to exert its power.

I have written a long letter; but, writing to you, I never know when to
end.

Heaven bless my Anna St. Ives!

LOUISA CLIFTON