ABSTRACT
My friend’s letter cost me a whole night’s repose. I could not read without emotion the expressions of an affection so ill repaid, – an affection now lost to me for ever. A thousand instances of my ingratitude forced themselves upon my recollection; and who can tell the bitterness of that pity which we feel for those whom we have injured, when we know that our pity can no longer avail! The mild form of Miss Mortimer perpetually rose to my fancy. I saw her alone in her solitary dwelling, suffering pain which was unsoothed by the voice of sympathy, and weakness which no friend was at hand to sustain. I saw her weep over the wounds of my unkindness, and bless me, though ‘the iron had entered into her soul!’ 158 ‘But she shall not weep, – she shall not be alone and comfortless,’ I cried, starting like one who has taken a sudden resolution: ‘I will go to her. I will shew her, that I am not altogether thankless. I will spend whole days with her. I will read to her, – sing to her, – amuse her a thousand ways. To-morrow I will go – no – tomorrow I am engaged at Lady G.’s, – how provoking! and the day after, we must dine with Mrs Sidney, – was ever anything so unfortunate? However, some day soon I will most certainly go.’ So with this opiate I lulled the most painful of my self-upbraidings.
