Friday Morning.
I am sick with vexation, and wish I could knock my foolish head against
the wall, that bodily pain might make me feel less anguish from
self-reproach! To say the truth, I was never more displeased with
myself, and I will tell you the cause. You may recollect that I did not
mention to you the circumstance of —— having a fortune left to him; nor
did a hint of it dropt from me when I conversed with my sister; because
I knew he had a sufficient motive for concealing it. Last Sunday, when
his character was aspersed, as I thought, unjustly, in the heat of
vindication I informed ****** that he was now independent; but, at the
same time, desired him not to repeat my information to B——; yet, last
Tuesday, he told him all, and the boy at B——’s gave Mrs. —— an account
of it. As Mr. —— knew he had only made a confident of me (I blush to
think of it!) he guessed the channel of intelligence, and this morning
came (not to reproach me, I wish he had!) but to point out the injury I
have done him. Let what will be the consequence, I will reimburse him,
if I deny myself the necessaries of life—and even then my folly will
sting me. Perhaps you can scarcely conceive the misery I at this moment
endure—that I, whose power of doing good is so limited, should do harm,
galls my very soul. **** may laugh at these qualms—but, supposing Mr. ——
to be unworthy, I am not the less to blame.—Surely it is hell to despise
one’s self! I did not want this additional vexation—at this time I have
many that hang heavily on my spirits. I shall not call on you this
month, nor stir out. My stomach has been so suddenly and violently
affected, I am unable to lean over the desk.