O Letty, what shall I do?—where shall I turn for advice and consolation? Shall I implore the protection of my uncle, who has been always kind and compassionate? This must be my last resource. I dread the thoughts of making him uneasy; and would rather suffer a thousand deaths than live the cause of dissension in the family. I cannot perceive the meaning of Wilson’s coming hither: perhaps, he was in quest of us, in order to disclose his real name and situation: but wherefore pass without staying to make the least inquiry? My dear Willis, I am lost in conjecture. I have not closed an eye since I saw him. All night long have I been tossed about from one imagination to another. The reflection finds no resting place. I have prayed, and sighed, and wept plentifully. If this terrible suspence continues much longer, I shall have another fit of illness, and then the whole family will be in confusion. If it was consistent with the wise purposes of Providence, would I were in my grave. But it is my duty to be resigned. My dearest Letty, excuse my weakness—excuse these blots—my tears fall so fast that I cannot keep the paper dry; yet I ought to consider that I have as yet no cause to despair; but I am such a faint-hearted timorous creature!

Thank God, my uncle is much better than he was yesterday. He is resolved to pursue our journey straight to Wales. I hope we shall take Gloucester in our way; that hope chears my poor heart; I shall once more embrace my best beloved Willis, and pour all my griefs into her friendly bosom. O heaven! is it possible that such happiness is reserved for

The dejected and forlorn
LYDIA MELFORD.