She always reconciled the necessity under which these interventions, as she called them, laid her, of now-and-then breaking into some of her appropriations; saying, ’That was good sense, and good manners too, in the common lesson, When at Rome, do as they do at Rome.  And that to be easy of persuasion, in matters where one could oblige without endangering virtue, or worthy habits, was an apostolical excellency; since, if a person conformed with a view of making herself an interest in her friend’s affections, in order to be heeded in greater points, it was imitating His example, who became all things to all men, that He might gain some.’  Nor is it to be doubted, had life been spared her, that the sweetness of her temper, and her cheerful piety, would have made virtue and religion appear so lovely, that her example would have had no small influence upon the minds and manners of those who would have had the honour of conversing with her.

O Mr. Belford!  I can write no further on this subject.  For, looking into the account-book for other particulars, I met with a most affecting memorandum; which being written on the extreme edge of the paper, with a fine pen, and in the dear creature’s smallest hand, I saw not before.—­ This it is; written, I suppose, at some calamitous period after the day named in it—­help me to curse, to blast the monster who gave occasion for it!——­

      April 10.  The account concluded! 
      And with it all my worldly hopes and prospects!

***

I take up my pen; but not to apologize for my execration.—­Once more I pray to God to avenge me of him!—­Me, I say—­for mine is the loss—­her’s the gain.

O Sir! you did not—­you could not know her, as I knew her!  Never was such an excellence!—­So warm, yet so cool a friend!—­So much what I wish to be, but never shall be!—­For, alas! my stay, my adviser, my monitress, my directress, is gone!—­for ever gone!—­She honoured me with the title of The Sister of her Heart; but I was only so in the love I bore her, (a love beyond a sister’s—­infinitely beyond her sister’s!) in the hatred I have to every mean and sordid action; and in my love of virtue; for, otherwise, I am of a high and haughty temper, as I have acknowledged heretofore, and very violent in my passions.

In short, she was the nearest perfection of any creature I ever knew.  She never preached to me lessons which she practised not herself.  She lived the life she taught.  All humility, meekness, self-accusing, others acquitting, though the shadow of the fault was hardly hers, the substance their’s, whose only honour was their relation to her.

To lose such a friend—­such a guide.—­If ever my violence was justifiable, it is upon this recollection!  For she lived only to make me sensible of my failings, but not long enough to enable me to conquer them; as I was resolved to endeavour to do.

Once more then let me execrate—­but now violence and passion again predominate!—­And how can it be otherwise?