Smallridge’s, near Bristol, stared me in the face. I knew the name, the place, I knew all about it, and instantly saw what she had been doing. It was perfectly accordant with that resolution of character which I knew her to possess; and the secrecy she had maintained, as to any such design in her former letter, was equally descriptive of its anxious delicacy. For the world would not she have seemed to threaten me.⁠—Imagine the shock; imagine how, till I had actually detected my own blunder, I raved at the blunders of the post.⁠—What was to be done?⁠—One thing only.⁠—I must speak to my uncle. Without his sanction I could not hope to be listened to again.⁠—I spoke; circumstances were in my favour; the late event had softened away his pride, and he was, earlier than I could have anticipated, wholly reconciled and complying; and could say at last, poor man!