horred the sinner as well as the sin; now, I flatter myself I am more charitable and considerate; but am I not becoming more indifferent and insensate too? Fool that I was to dream that I had strength and purity enough to save myself and him! Such vain presumption would be rightly served, if I should perish with him in the gulf from which I sought to save him! Yet, God preserve me from it!—and him too. Yes, poor Arthur, I will still hope and pray for you; and though I write as if you were some abandoned wretch, past hope and past reprieve, it is only my anxious fears—my strong desires that make me do so; one who loved you less would be less bitter—less dissatisfied.
His conduct has of late, been what the world calls irreproachable; but then I know his heart is still unchanged;—and I know that spring is approaching, and deeply dread the consequences.
As he began to recover the tone and vigour
