To the Earl of Belmont.
Mount Melvin, Wednesday.
My Lord,
IF my regret for the late dreadful event,
an event embittered by the circumstances
your last letter communicated to me,
could receive any encrease, it certainly must
from the generous behaviour of Mr. Mandeville,
whose care for my unhappy son,
when expiring, is a proof his blood was
drawn from the same source as our Lordship's.
Yes, he was indeed worthy the happiness
you intended him, worthy the honored
name of Mandeville.
Relived, by the noble conduct of your
lamented kinsman, from the fears I entertained
for my son's life, my sorrow for the
miseries he has occasioned is only the more
severe: I feel with unutterable anguish that
my ancient friend, the friend of my earliest
youth, is childless by the crime of him
who owes his being to me: the blow his
hand unwillingly struck, has reached the
heart of the incomparable Lady Julia: I
think of her angelic perfections, of the untimely
fate which has robbed the world of
its loveliest ornament, and almost wish never
to have been a father.
Lady Rochdale and Louisa are in tears
by me; for ever excluded from Belmont,
they look on themselves as exiles, though
at home. The horrors of mind under
which my son labors are unutterable; he
entreats to see Colonel Mandeville; to obtain
his pardon for that involuntary crime,
which has destroyed all the happiness of
his life.
Will you, my friend, once more admit
us? Allow us one interview with yourself
and Colonel Mandeville? I ask no more,
nor will ever repeat the visit: I could not
support the sight of Lady Belmont.
I am, my Lord,
Your Lordship's most faithful,
though wretched friend,
Rochdale.
