Letter LXXI
[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 precautions; but she shall not despise me for meanness.—You are now perfectly free.—God bless you.
Mary.