disentangle myself. All the appearances of violent attachment, and of agonising distress at the idea of a relinquishment, were played with a most imposing art. This, though it did not make me entirely the dupe of the plot, yet kept me in a state of irresolution. My sensibility, perhaps my vanity, admitted the possibility of a real fondness; and led me to adopt the plan of a gradual discontinuance rather than of a sudden interruption, as least calculated to give pain, if a real partiality existed.
Mrs. Reynolds, on the other hand, employed every effort to keep up my attention and visits—Her pen was freely employed, and her letters were filled with those tender and pathetic effusions which would have been natural to a woman truly fond and neglected.
One day, I received a letter from her, which is in the appendix (No. I. b) intimating a discovery by her husband. It was matter of doubt with me whether there had really been a discovery by accident, or whether the time for the catastrophe of the plot was arrived.
The same day, being the 15th of December 1791,
