he should meet. It was the fate of thy unhappy brother to encounter this ruffian, whose sagacity made him forbear to tear away the usual trophy from the dead, lest he should afford grounds for suspicion as to the authors of the evil.
Satisfied with this exploit, he rejoined his companions; and, after an interval of three weeks, returned with a more numerous party, to execute a more extensive project of destruction. They were counselled, and guided in all their movements, by Queen Mab, who now explained these particulars, and boldly defied her oppressors: her usual obstinacy and infatuation induced her to remain in her ancient dwelling, and prepare to meet the consequences.
This disclosure awakened anew all the regrets and anguish which flowed from that disaster. It has been productive, however, of some benefit: suspicions and doubts by which my soul was harassed, and which were injurious to the innocent, are now at an end. It is likewise some imperfect consolation, to reflect that the assassin has himself been killed, and probably by my own hand. The shedder of blood no longer lives to pursue his vocation, and justice is satisfied.
Thus have I fulfilled my promise to compose a minute relation of my sufferings. I remembered my duty to thee; and, as soon as I was able to hold a pen, employed it to inform thee of my welfare. I could not at that time enter into particulars, but reserved a more copious narrative till a period of more health and leisure.
On looking back, I am surprised at the length to which my story has run: I thought that a few days would suffice to complete it; but one page has insensibly been added to another, till I have consumed weeks and filled volumes. Here I will draw to a close. I will send you what I have written, and discuss with you in conversation my other immediate concerns, and my schemes for the future. As soon as I have seen Sarsefield I will visit you.—Farewell!
Solebury, November 10.
