ABSTRACT
I again resume the subject, my dear Dubois, and go on where I left off in my last.
“When St. Far had been absent about a fortnight, continued Maria, as I was sitting in the garden, ruminating on what could be the cause of this strange silence, a servant brought me a letter: the superscription told me it came from my lover. I opened it hastily; it was truly obscure. He lamented the loss of his mother in the most pathetic terms, but gave some dark hints of a misfortune which touched him still nearer than her death. The conclusion was such as I could by no means fathom. These were his words: “Oh! Maria, how hard to renounce sentiments so dear, and once so cherished! Alas! must that passion which I looked on as my glory, now become my shame! Horror shocks my soul. Oh, Maria! when you are acquainted with my misfortunes, your tender mind will feel all the distress with which mine is overwhelmed. I can no more pity, but do not condemn St. Far.”
