heart. Mine! who from that moment, or rather from the fatal and guilty
moment when I confided in an unprincipled man, have never known that
cheerfulness and peace, which once were the inmates of my bosom!'

'You astonish me, madam! Wakefield?'

'Wakefield! Him have I to thank for loss of self-respect, a brother's
love, and perhaps a parent's life! I was my mother's companion,
consolation, and pride. How can I estimate a mother's grief? She died
within a year. Have I not reason to believe her days were shortened by
her daughter's guilt?'

The pain of recollection was agonizing. She burst into a flood of
tears: nor could every effort she made keep down the deep sobs that
for some minutes impeded speech. I used every endeavour to appease
and calm her mind: she seemed sensibly touched by that sympathy which
intensely pervaded me; and, as soon as she could recover herself, thus
continued.

'The kind part you take in my affliction, Mr. Trevor, affords me
greater relief than any that perhaps I have felt for years. It is
true the faithful Mary, good creature, has almost shed tear for tear:
but she herself is the daughter of misfortune, and from her, though
grateful, it is something like expected. You are a man; you perhaps
have been accustomed to the society of those whose pleasure is the
most exquisite when they can most contribute to the miseries of woman:
that you should be virtuous enough to contemn such instruction, does
more than sooth feelings like mine: and I think we esteem benefits the
more the less we expect them.'