ABSTRACT
When Dorothea had perused her husband's note, in doing which she was much impeded by her tears, she hesitated how to act, her gratitude adding fresh weight to the regret which already oppressed her mind: most anxiously did she wish to throw herself into the arms of her husband, and there, acknowledging her mistakes, seek the happiness and security of her future life. 'Ah,' said she, 'did it depend only on me, how simple would be the commands I should transmit; but kind and considerate as he is, still for me there is no place in his heart; I cannot have mistaken mere resentment for aversion. Alas! no: the absurdity of my notions has alienated his heart; let me not flatter / myself; Sir Charles, reflecting on the situation of a weak and unprotected woman, has hastened to my relief; but that being so far accomplished, (as he truly observes), his business is at an end; and this glimpse of hope is only calculated to leave me in more gloomy and impenetrable darkness when it disappears; but shall I not, then, thank him for his care? Ah! how I wish I knew if those thanks would be acceptable.'
