O, let my sufferings be deemed a sufficient punishment, and
add not the insupportable weight of a parent's wrath. At present I
cannot see you. The effect of my crime is too obvious to be longer
concealed, to elude the invidious eye of curiosity. This night,
therefore, I leave your hospitable mansion. This night I become a
wretched wanderer from my paternal roof. O that the grave were this
night to be my lodging! Then should I lie down and be at rest. Trusting
in the mercy of God, through the mediation of his Son, I think I could
meet my heavenly Father with more composure and confidence than my
earthly parent.
Let not the faults and misfortunes of your daughter oppress your mind.
Rather let the conviction of having faithfully discharged your duty to
your lost child support and console you in this trying scene.
Since I wrote the above, you have kindly granted me your forgiveness,
though you knew not how great, how aggravated was my offence. You
forgive me, you say. O, the harmonious, the transporting sound! It has
revived my drooping spirits, and will enable me to encounter, with
resolution, the trials before me.
Farewell, my dear mamma! Pity and pray for your ruined child; and be
assured that affection and gratitude will be the last sentiments which
expire in the breast of your repenting daughter,
ELIZA WHARTON.
LETTER LXIX.
TO MISS JULIA GRANBY.
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