You know not what misery and illness I have suffered since last I wrote to you. My brother William—my kind guardian-angel—informed me to-day that you were in town, and as I am too ill to go out, and wish to consult you about publishing my journal, and many other things, would you do me the favour to call here to-morrow evening, or any time you please, between eight and eleven! Unless you meet my brother you will find no one, and, as I have four horses, I can send for you, and send you back when you like.
PS. I was rather grieved that you never answered my last imprudent letter; fear not, they have broken my heart—not my spirit; and if I will but sign a paper, all my rich relations will protect me, and I shall, no doubt, go with an Almack ticket to heaven.
