ABSTRACT
I date this, my dear friend, from Paris; it is the only letter you will receive before I see you, which I hope will be in a fortnight: it is the sole comfort I promise myself, after having parted with those who share my heart with yourself, and whom I left with more regret that I ever felt on the same occasion before. There was something in Zilia’s manner of taking leave, which, could I form any hopes of a change of her sentiments in my favour, would flatter such hopes.
