should experience, should he refuse to sanction our union. Mr. Robinson
left me a few guineas, and promised that his absence should be short,
and his affection increasing.

I had now been married near four months; and, though love was not the
basis of my fidelity, honour, and a refined sense of feminine rectitude,
attached me to the interest as well as to the person of my husband. I
considered chastity as the brightest ornament that could embellish the
female mind, and I regulated my conduct to that tenor which has
principle more than affection to strengthen its progress.

At Bristol my mother experienced the most gratifying reception; all her
former friends rejoiced to see her; I was invited daily to feasts of
hospitality, and I found that fortune was to common minds a never
failing passport. Mr. Robinson was represented as a young man of
considerable expectations, and his wife was consequently again received
as the daughter of Mr. Darby. The house in which I first opened my eyes
to this world of sorrow, the minster, its green, the schoolhouse where I
had passed many days, the tomb of my lost relatives in the church of St.
Augustine, were all visited by me with a sweet and melancholy interest.
But the cathedral, the brass eagle in the middle aisle, under which,
when an infant, I used to sit and join in the loud anthem, or chant the
morning service, most sensibly attached me. I longed again to occupy my
place beneath its expanding wings, and once I went before the service
began to gratify my inclination.

Language cannot describe the sort of sensation which I felt when I heard
the well-known, long-remembered organ flinging its loud peal through the
Gothic structure. I hastened to the cloisters. The nursery windows were
dim and shattered; the house was sinking to decay. The mouldering walk