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my dear madam, is much beyond my power of doing justice to. You will soon, I earnestly hope, know her thoroughly yourself.⁠—No description can describe her. She must tell you herself what she is⁠—yet not by word, for never was there a human creature who would so designedly suppress her own merit.⁠—Since I began this letter, which will be longer than I foresaw, I have heard from her.⁠—She gives a good account of her own health; but as she never complains, I dare not depend. I want to have your opinion of her looks. I know you will soon call on her; she is living in dread of the visit. Perhaps it is paid already. Let me hear from you without delay; I am impatient for a thousand particulars. Remember how few minutes I was at Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state: and I am not much better yet; still insane either from happiness or misery. When I think of the kindness and favour I have met with, of her excellence and patience, and my uncle’s generosity, I am mad with joy: but when I recollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her, and how little I deserve to be forgiven, I am mad with anger. If I could but see her again!⁠—But I must not propose it yet. My uncle has been too good for me to encroach.⁠—I must still add to this long letter. You have not heard all that you ought to hear. I could not give any connected detail yesterday; but the suddenness, and, in one light, the unseasonableness with which the affair burst out, needs explanation; for though the event of the 26th ult. , as you will conclude, immediately opened to me the happiest prospects, I should not have presumed on such early measures, but from the very particular circumstances, which left me not an hour to lose. I should myself have shrunk from anything so hasty, and she would