[London, Nov. 1795] Monday Morning. I am compelled at last to say that you treat me ungenerously. I agree with you, that ******** But let the obliquity now fall on me.—I fear neither poverty nor infamy. I am unequal to the task of writing—and explanations are not necessary. ******** My child may have to blush for her mother’s want of prudence—and may lament that the rectitude of my heart made me above vulgar Mary. |