P.S. Indeed, my dear Lucy, I am getting well. They tell me, the wind is
still against the Lisbon packet’s sailing. How fortunate I am! There!
the whole junto are rising! and the inkstand has vanished. Your’s! your
own R. Cowley is, indeed, only too weak to mutiny against this
authority.
LETTER LXX.
_From Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle._
It is with gratitude to Heaven, that I find my dear friends at Heathcot,
are relieved from their too tender anxieties and apprehensions on my
account, yet wherefore do I say “too tender,” I recall the words, my
Lucy, which my heart does not sanction, and I will not assume a virtue I
have not; I give you joy, that death has spared to you your Rachel
Cowley. I rejoice in your love; and I participate in your present
feelings. Your goodness to Horace has contributed towards my
restoration. I should have died, had you mentioned your terrors to him.
I have written to him the state of affairs here. He will be satisfied,
that the recent events, in which I have been engaged, occasioned the
brevity of my letter.
Mrs. Heartley sends her love to you with the enclosed: she insists, that
you will be better pleased with it, than with _my labours_. They have,
amongst them, annihilated the self will of your