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Foster, Hannah Webster, 1758-1840

"The Coquette The History of Eliza Wharton"

I visited her again about four o'clock; when she appeared
more calm and tranquil.
"It is finished," said she, as I entered her apartment; "it is
finished." "What," said I, "is finished?" "No matter," replied she; "you
will know all to-morrow, Julia." She complained of excessive fatigue,
and expressed an inclination to lie down; in which I assisted her, and
then retired. Some time after, her mamma went up, and found her still on
the bed. She rose, however, and accompanied her down stairs. I met her
at the door of the parlor, and, taking her by the hand, inquired how she
did. "O Julia, miserably indeed," said she. "How severely does my
mother's kindness reproach me! How insupportably it increases my
self-condemnation!" She wept; she rung her hands, and walked the room in
the greatest agony. Mrs. Wharton was exceedingly distressed by her
appearance. "Tell me, Eliza," said she, "tell me the cause of your
trouble. O, kill me not by your mysterious concealment. My dear child,
let me by sharing alleviate your affliction." "Ask me not, madam," said
she; "O my mother, I conjure you not to insist on my divulging to-night
the fatal secret which engrosses and distracts my mind; to-morrow I will
hide nothing from you." "I will press you no further," rejoined her
mamma. "Choose your own time, my dear; but remember, I must participate
your grief, though I know not the cause.


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