“Brighthelmstone, 16th November 1782.—­For him I have been contented to reverse the laws of nature, and request of my child that concurrence which, at my age and a widow, I am not required either by divine or human institutions to ask even of a parent.  The life I gave her she may now more than repay, only by agreeing to what she will with difficulty prevent; and which, if she does prevent, will give her lasting remorse; for those who stab me shall hear me groan:  whereas if she will—­but how can she?—­gracefully or even compassionately consent; if she will go abroad with me upon the chance of his death or mine preventing our union, and live with me till she is of age—­ ... perhaps there is no heart so callous by avarice, no soul so poisoned by prejudice, no head so feather’d by foppery, that will forbear to excuse her when she returns to the rich and the gay—­for having saved the life of a mother thro’ compliance, extorted by anguish, contrary to the received opinions of the world.”

“Brighthelmstone, 19th November, 1782.—­What is above written, though intended only to unload my heart by writing it, I shewed in a transport of passion to Queeney and to Burney.  Sweet Fanny Burney cried herself half blind over it; said there was no resisting such pathetic eloquence, and that, if she was the daughter instead of the friend, she should be tempted to attend me to the altar; but that, while she possessed her reason, nothing should seduce her to approve what reason itself would condemn:  that children, religion, situation, country, and character—­besides the diminution of fortune by the certain loss of 800_l._ a year, were too much to sacrifice for any one man.  If, however, I were resolved to make the sacrifice, a la bonne heure! it was an astonishing proof of an attachment very difficult for mortal man to repay.”

“I will talk no more about it.”

What comes next was written in London: 

“Nov. 27, 1782.—­I have given my Piozzi some hopes—­dear, generous, prudent, noble-minded creature; he will hardly permit himself to believe it ever can be—­come quei promessi miracoli, says he, che non vengono mai.  For rectitude of mind and native dignity of soul I never saw his fellow.”

“Dec. 1, 1782.—­The guardians have met upon the scheme of putting our girls in Chancery.  I was frighted at the project, not doubting but the Lord Chancellor would stop us from leaving England, as he would certainly see no joke in three young heiresses, his wards, quitting the kingdom to frisk away with their mother into Italy:  besides that I believe Mr. Crutchley proposed it merely for a stumbling-block to my journey, as he cannot bear to have Hester out of his sight.