This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them.
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