I Several times asked Mrs. Lafew, how it was possible for her to forgive the injury I had done her, as she seemed to do; and not to hate, instead of pitying me for any thing I suffered. She declined answering me, till I was much recovered; and then, on my repeating the question, replied, ‘I will not pretend to say, that if I had seen you in no other light than the object of my husband's tenderest affections, and the cause of his inconstancy, I could have thought you more worthy of my compassion than of my resentment; but as gratitude had taught me to love you enough to be sincerely interested in your welfare, my own misfortune did not engross all my thoughts. I considered what I suffered was but for a time. You indeed seemed to have a present advantage over me; but how dreadful were the threatened consequences! The short triumph of a few years must, if unrepented of, be succeeded by eternal misery. The heart must be very hard, which, in such a situation, could be void of compassion for one, who possibly might be on the brink of the most dreadful eternity, but from whom, at least, it could not be far distant; for the longest life is short while passing, and still shorter in reflection.’

‘I acknowlege,’ continued she, 'that Mr. Lafew was the more immediate object of my concern, as he was most dear to me; and so great have been my apprehensions for him, that I can with truth say, I have suffered much more on his account than on my own. All my worldly happiness is indeed come to its period; but death promises me certain relief; it may for some years delay its healing balm; but at last it will not fail of yielding me a certain cure.