LETTER XXXVIII.
Myrato Mrs.Holmes.
Boston.
ACCEPT my warmest acknowledgment, my good friend, for your kindness.—Your letter sufficiently explains your former anxiety—it has removed all ambiguities.
YOUR servant entered hastily with the letter—and gave it me with evident tokens of its containing a matter of importance.—My father was present—I broke it open, not without agitation—I read it—but the shock was too severe—it fell from my hands, and I sunk into the chair.
MY fainting was not of any duration. I opened my eyes and found my father supporting me—but the idea ofHarriotwas still engraven deeply in my heart.—I inquired for my sister—the tear rolled down his cheek—it was a sufficient answer to my inquiry.—He said nothing—there was no necessity of his saying a word.
COULD I ask him to explain your letter? No—my heart anticipated his feelings—the impropriety struck me at once. “You have a tale to unfold.” Do not delay to unfold it.
Adieu!
Adieu!
Adieu!
Adieu!