ABSTRACT
I have your letter now by me, my dear Maria: I know not how to give way to the delusive hopes you would have me entertain: is it possible my Zilia can love again? and can that passion be renewed in favour of Deterville? Transporting thought! Ah! let me not deceive myself; it is not the first time I have been betrayed by hope. Be watchful, my good friend; in your hands is my destiny: let me not proceed too far, till I have a certainty what that destiny is.
