Zilia to Deterville.

Ever since the misfortune which happened to me, in the loss of Aza, I could not have imagined, Sir, that any poignant affliction could have reached my heart; but fatal experience has convinced me of the contrary, from a discovery I accidentally made, and which has given me the most cruel uneasiness. Your sister came yesterday to see me, and after she had left me, I found a paper in my chamber. I opened it, but how great was my surprise to find it her hand, in a letter addressed to you; in which, after condemning you for refusing my proffered friendship, she endeavours to persuade you to it, from motives very contrary to my thoughts.

Who could have imagined, that the ever tender, the ever generous Celina, the only comfort of my afflicted soul, would have proved unfriendly, after I had given myself entirely up to her, and had not the least reserve in the sincere love I felt? But I find her love to me is not without suspicion. Though your sister, at the beginning of this shocking letter, loads me with praises, yet surely they cannot flow so much from her own sentiments, as from her fear of displeasing you. For, on what pretences does she ground your hope, but the want of stability in those virtues which she allows appear in me. In betraying to you the secrets of her sex: Her art, or I will say artifice, does not turn to the advantage of her own mind: Mistaken girl! does she think the Virgins devoted to the Sun, and educated in his Temple, are to be looked on in that general light in which she makes women appear? Is there but one model for them, and but one rule to form a judgment by? The Creator, who gives endless variety to his works; who distinguishes every country by some particular property; who gives to us all faces so alike, and yet so different; has he decreed that the characters of the mind should be in every nation similar, and that all reasonable beings should think in the same manner; I own this is what I cannot believe.