be sensible that it would be unnatural. You must not expect news
for we see no one with whom we are in the least acquainted, or in
whose proceedings we have any Interest. You must not expect
scandal for by the same rule we are equally debarred either from
hearing or inventing it.--You must expect from me nothing but
the melancholy effusions of a broken Heart which is ever
reverting to the Happiness it once enjoyed and which ill supports
its present wretchedness. The Possibility of being able to
write, to speak, to you of my lost Henry will be a luxury to me,
and your goodness will not I know refuse to read what it will so
much releive my Heart to write. I once thought that to have what
is in general called a Freind (I mean one of my own sex to whom I
might speak with less reserve than to any other person)
independant of my sister would never be an object of my wishes,
but how much was I mistaken! Charlotte is too much engrossed by
two confidential correspondents of that sort, to supply the place
of one to me, and I hope you will not think me girlishly
romantic, when I say that to have some kind and compassionate
Freind who might listen to my sorrows without endeavouring to
console me was what I had for some time wished for, when our
acquaintance with you, the intimacy which followed it and the
particular affectionate attention you paid me almost from the
first, caused me to entertain the flattering Idea of those
attentions being improved on a closer acquaintance into a
Freindship which, if you were what my wishes formed you would be
the greatest Happiness I could be capable of enjoying. To find
that such Hopes are realised is a satisfaction indeed, a
satisfaction which is now almost the only one I can ever
experience.--I feel myself so languid that I am sure were you
with me you would oblige me to leave off writing, and I cannot