University of Virginia Library

September 18.—

I have bid adieu to South-park, and arrived this morning in London in a hired carriage; for I

would not take one of Mr. Arnold's. I found my mother at the house in St. James's-street, where I now am: she got here last night, and my letter had thrown her into agonies, from which she had not yet recovered. What have you wrote to me? said she, as she held me in her arms; your dreadful letter has almost killed me. —Sure, sure, my dear child, it cannot be true that you have left your husband! What is the cause? What have you done? or, What has he done? I begged my mother to compose herself a little, and then related to her every circumstance, in the same manner you have had them, as they occurred. Her lamentations pierced my heart; she wrung her hands in bitterness of anguish; Why did not the grave hide me, said she, before I saw shame and sorrow heaped upon my child! I came to die in peace with you—You might have lengthened my days for a while—But you cut them off—My eyes will close in affliction —A wounded spirit who can bear! Had you died in your cradle, we had both been happy. My child would now have been a cherub! an angel you have been in my eyes, and I am punished for it; but that was my crime, not your's. But you are a martyr to the crimes of others.

My mother wept not all this time; I wished she had; her passionate looks and tones affected me more than tears could. My eyes began to run over, her's soon accompanied me, and it a little relieved the vehemence of her grief.

She then began to reproach herself for having listened to lady Grimston's suggestions in favour of Mr. Arnold, and for her own soliciting this fatal marriage. But I stopped her on a subject which I knew would so much torment her thoughts. I conjured her not to reflect on it in that manner; I told her I knew she had acted for the best, and that nothing but an extraordinary fatality, which could neither be foreseen nor avoided, had made me unhappy. I said I was sure Mr. Arnold had been seduced by the

wiles of a wicked woman, for that he was by nature a good man, and that he had more of my pity than of my resentment.

I found it necessary to reconcile my mother to herself on this head; she seemed willing to lay hold on the hint, and turned all her indignation against Mrs. Gerrarde. A practiced sinner, she called her, for whom nothing could be said in extenuation of her crime.

We now turned our thoughts towards fixing on some other abode. You may be sure Mr. Arnold's house is no place for us; and my mother declared, she would not stay another night in it: accordingly we have dispatched her maid to take us lodgings immediately.