child, with every burthen that sorrow of heart and pain of body cou'd inflict on a poor being - and still thou tell'st me that thou art beginning to get ease, thy fever gone - thy sickness, the pain in thy side vanishing also -

May every evil so vanish, that thwarts Eliza's happiness, or but a-wakens her fears for a moment - Fear nothing, my dear, hope every thing, and the balm of this passion will shed it's influence on thy health, and make thee enjoy a spring of youth and chearfulness, more than thou hast hardly yet tasted -