LETTER IX.

_From the same to the same._

Your letter of Thursday, my dear Lucy, is in my hands twenty-four hours sooner than I expected it; but good news cannot travel too fast, and I sit down as blithe as a bird to thank you for the contents of an epistle which has renewed my spirits, and which will render me the “best creature in the world with Miss Lucretia;” for whose summons I am prepared in order to take an airing, and which allows me only time at present to tell you, that I am happy to find you do not any longer think your compliance with your brother’s request, is indispensible on the ground of duty. Why should he not be indulged with the sight of my gossiping letters from hence? Erase, expunge what you please; but gratify him with the details which you find amuse yourself. Let him see that his sister contrives to make in this dull portion of her life, those exertions which prevent her mind from stagnating. Do not think you err by deviating from the _letter_ of your father’s harsh law, whilst you so carefully adhere to the _spirit of it_. I would no more tempt my Lucy to sin, than I would sin myself. Horace knows that I am not a spiritless, whining, love-sick girl; but he well knows what I have to sustain in my separation from you, and in my removal from Heathcot. Have no fears, I beseech you, as to the final event of such an attachment as the one which binds me to Horace Hardcastle. When he ceases to be worthy of my esteem and affection, I shall despise him; and when I forget myself, he will despise me. Neither your father’s scruples, nor the maxims of the world will lesson the ties which unite our hearts; of this be assured.——I am summoned, the coach drives up.