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Sarah

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LETTER XXVI. SARAH TO ANNE.
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LETTER XXVI.
SARAH TO ANNE.

WHEN I returned to Mrs. Bellamy's house in
order to remove my trunk to my new habitation,
the maid brought up my dinner, and while I was
eating it, a porter brought a packet directed to


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me, and immediately departed. I was unacquainted
with the writing, yet it seemed as if I had
seen it somewhere before, though I could form
no idea whose it was; I broke the seal, and found
the two inclosed letters; I send you the insulting
originals, for I have not patience to transcribe
them; you see the situation they are in, I have
wet them with indignant tears; have trampled
them under my feet; I would have torn the
infamous scrawls to atoms, and scattered them
to the winds of heaven, or given them to the devouring
flames, but I preserved them that you
may see how low, how very low, your poor
Sarah is fallen.

Letter First.—To Mrs. DARNLEY.

I AM exceedingly concerned, my dear Mrs.
Darnley, at the little brulee which has taken
place between my mother and yourself, especially
as she tells me you talk of leaving her; this I
lament, because I think Caroline very much improved
since you have had the entire management
of her; not but that it has been a matter
of surprise to me, that a woman so young, lovely,
and accomplished as yourself, should voluntarily
submit to the humiliation of being subject
to the humor and caprices of any one, and live
in a state of dependence, when they might command
affluence on the very easy terms of sharing
it with an agreeable man, who would think himself
honored by her acceptance of his protection:
and this I know to be your case. The marquis


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of H—, who is an intimate friend of lord
Linden's, and whom you have seen at my house
and at my mother's, has often expressed his
fervent admiration of your person, manners and
accomplishments. He was present when my
mother told us of your quarrel; I do assure you
he took your part very highly, called you a
persecuted angel; raved at my mother, and
was setting off post haste, to offer you consolation,
in the form of a young handsome lover and
a settlement; but I stopped him, told him he
must conduct himself with prudence and delicacy,
if he wished to succeed with you—so while he is
writing his amorous epistle, I have scrawled
these hasty lines, to intreat you to give his proposal
a fair perusal, and take it into serious consideration.
Only reflect, my dear, on the
unprotected state, in which you now are, in a
strange place, without friends or money. You will
perhaps say, you have reputation; but, child,
will reputation pay your lodging, or buy you a
new gown when you want one? No, believe me,
poor reputation is many a time left naked in the
street, while those who have disclaimed and
turned her out of doors, are sumptuously clothed,
inhabit palaces, and ride in splendid equipages.
But I will say no more; your own good sense
will direct you; and surely I think you cannot be
so wilfully blind to your own interest, as to refuse
the offers of the marquis. Do, child, be wise for
once, and take the advice of a friend, though I
am arguing against myself to persuade you to do

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so. But if you are romantic enough to prefer
dependence; why, if you must leave ma, come
and live with me, and I will take Caroline home;
at any rate, pray do not, in a flight of elevation,
run from those evils which you know, to those of
which at present you can have no conception.

Letter second—Marquis of H—, to Mrs.
Darnley.

Madam,

THOUGH I have but a few times enjoyed the
pleasure of being in your company, those few
have been enough to awaken in my mind sentiments
of the highest esteem for your talents
and virtues. I have understood from my friend,
lord Linden, that you have connected yourself in
marriage, with a man who knows not how justly
to appreciate your worth; and who has permitted
you to come unprovided and unprotected into
this country, that by the exertion of your abilities,
you may obtain means of subsistence; this,
madam, being the case, prevents my having the
honor of laying myself and fortune at your feet.
But as from the treatment you have experienced
from your husband, every tie must be broken
between you, every obligation dissolved—permit
me to offer you protection and independence;
allow me to hope to be admitted among the
chosen few, whom you may honor with esteem.
I have a neat house, ready for your reception, a
few miles from Dublin, whether you can retire,
until one can be prepared in the city, should you


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prefer residing there; a carriage and servants
shall attend your order, free of expense, and a
settlement of five hundred pounds a year during
your life, awaits your acceptance; only allow me
the privilege of passing some hours of every
day in your society, and by studying your
charmingly intelligent countenance, discover and
prevent your wishes, before you have time to
give them utterance. I have desired the person
who brings you this, not to wait for an answer.
I will not hurry your gentle and delicate nature;
take your own time to consider my proposals;
only to give me one comforting gleam of hope,
allow me to see you for five minutes this evening,
at Mrs. Bellamy's; I will call about nine
o'clock; I will not say one word on the subject
of this letter; my visit shall be confined to the
period mentioned; if it is your wish, only receive
me without a frown, and I will live in the hope, that
my future visits (when you are settled in your
own house) will be welcomed with a smile. I
am, madam, with the utmost respect, your sincere
adorer,

H.

When I had read these most diabolical epistles,
my beloved Anne, the first impulse of my soul
was to offer humbly, on my knees, my thanks to
the Giver of all good, that this marquis, this
man who would thus artfully insinuate himself into
my favor, is not a person who is very likely to
awaken the least emotion of tenderness; next to
this effusion of thanks, an ardent prayer arose,


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that I might not be tempted beyond my strength.
I then resolved on immediate flight. For what
am I but a weak mortal, liable to error, prone to
frailty, the very child of weakness? Beset as I
was, by poverty, unsheltered poverty, in a place
where none were interested whether I lived or
died—far from all who are interested in my fate,
my Frederic, and my dear Anne, my father, oh!
let me not think on him; Anne, I feared my
own weakness; and though not assailed by passion,
I knew my safety lay only in flight—I sent for
a coach, put my trunk into it, and without leaving
any word for Mrs. Bellamy, drove to my
new lodgings.

Secure and happy in the reflection that I
have done right, I slept that night with tolerable
composure; but each returning day brings with
it some anxiety; for, alas, how am I to live?—
I will trust in God. I am willing to work, I shall
surely obtain employment sufficient to purchase
the mere necessaries of life. I will write to you
again, but do not expect long nor frequent letters.
I have now to labor for a living; do not be uneasy;
I shall do very well, no doubt. Heaven bless
you, my good, my friendly Anne. Whilst I live
I shall never cease to love and honor you.

SARAH.