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will, you say, return to the home from whence he has so long and
so cruelly absented himself. Oh Celestine why can I not receive him
as I would have received him but a few days since. Why does
not my heart open to receive the dear wanderer--for such he was,
in spite of all his neglect and unkindness. But now I feel as if
that heart was closed, never again to open to those kindly and forgiving
feelings which have so long kept alive my affection for my husband.
What then, is offended pride, more enexorable than offended
love? And am I of a proud and vindictive temper? --I whom you
have so often called the most humble and placable of human
beings. You, who have studied and anatomized the human
heart, do you explain this to me. I have endevoured
to { ?} myself into a forgiveness of my husband. In vain,
that proposition at which you say I was "unnecessarily shocked,"
has broken the tie which bound me to him--an { ?} the
tenderness of a fond and almost broken heart and filled my bosom with
an unconquerable resentment, contempt and disgusts.
What! would he have reprieved his honor by the sacrifice
of my honor? Cowardly, selfish--base!--Oh- Celestine com-
pared to these dispiccable traits of character, his love of
pleasure, seems almost a virtue. Noble sentiments, generous
dispositions and ardent affections have been often led into the excesses
of sensual pleasure and in spite of his inconstancy--I still loved my
husband and with open arms would have welcomed the
repentant prodigal home. But noble sentiments--generous
dispositions--ardent affections--are incompatible with baseness
and selfishness. The tie is broken Celestine--I have no
longer a husband. But even yet--I will receive the
Father of my children--altho' my heart is closed--his
home is open to receive him, and I shall now do from
a principle of duty, what I should once have done from
a sentiment of affection--Endeavour to make his house
agreeable to him and thus to wean him from the
resorts of vice.--But to succeed in this, dear Celestine,
I depend more on you than on myself--Come then ,
and while you soothe my too weak { } sorrows,
entice by your charming powers the wanderer home.----Julia

This letter was even beyond Madam Luneville"s
most sanguine hopes. Every obstacle seemed to yield
to her daring of fertile genius--Capt Mirvan admitted