The person who bears this letter comes nearer to perfection than any other woman I ever saw.

If you would trust my judgment (and, believe me, I am not to be mistaken in one of my own sex), if you could turn your heart toward her, she would make you very happy.

I am sure she could love you devotedly, if she only heard those words from your lips, which every woman requires to hear before she surrenders her affections.

Pray do not be angry with me; pray do not think it cost me little to give this strange but honest advice to one I admire so.

But I feel it would be so weak and selfish in me to cling to that, which, sooner or later, I must resign, and to make so many persons unhappy, when all might be happy, except perhaps myself.
"Once more, forgive me.