After acquitting myself of my duty towards my deceas'd
benefactor, and paying him a tribute of unfeign'd sorrow,
which a little time chang'd into a most tender, grateful
memory of him that I shall ever retain, I grew somewhat com-
forted by the prospect that now open'd to me, if not of hap-
piness at least of affluence and independence.
I saw myself then in the full bloom and pride of youth
(for I was not yet nineteen) actually at the head of so large
a fortune, as it would have been even the height of impudence
in me to have raised my wishes, much more my hopes, to; and
that this unexpected elevation did not turn my head, I ow'd
to the pains my benefactor had taken to form and prepare me
for it, as I ow'd his opinion of my management of the vast
possessions he left me, to what he had observ'd of the pru-
dential economy I had learned under Mrs. Cole, of which the
reserve he saw I had made was a proof and encouragement to
him.
But, alas! how easily is the enjoyment of the greatest
sweets in life, in present possession, poisoned by the regret
of an absent one! but my regret was a mighty and just one,
since it had my only truly beloved Charles for its object.
Given him up I had, indeed, compleatly, having never once
heard from him since our separation; which, as I found after-
wards, had been my misfortune, and not his neglect, for he
wrote me several letters which had all miscarried; but for-
gotten him I never had.
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