P.S. You do not think, Louisa, no I am sure you cannot think that all
the ardour I felt for the recovery of a mind like Mr. Clifton's is
lost. Far, far otherwise! I still hope to see him even more than my
fondest reveries have imagined! But I am not the agent; or at least
this is not the moment; or which is still more probable no agent now is
wanted. His mind has been obliged to enquire, and though passion may
for a time suppress truth, its struggles will be incessant; must be so
in a mind of such activity, and must at last be victorious. The grand
enemy of truth is the torpid state of error; for the beginning of doubt
is always the beginning of discovery. Let us then continue to love this
man of wonderful genius; not for what he is, but what he shall be.