"Places and honors have been bought for gold,Esteem and love were never to be sold."
I look upon the vicious habits and abandoned character of Major Sanford to have more pernicious effects on society than the perpetrations of the robber and the assassin. These, when detected, are rigidly punished by the laws of the land. If their lives be spared, they are shunned by society, and treated with every mark of disapprobation and contempt. But, to the disgrace of humanity and virtue, the assassin of honor, the wretch who breaks the peace of families, who robs virgin innocence of its charms, who triumphs over the ill-placed confidence of the inexperienced, unsuspecting, and too credulous fair, is received and caressed, not only by his own sex, to which he is a reproach, but even by ours, who have every conceivable reason to despise and avoid him. Influenced by these principles, I am neither ashamed nor afraid openly to avow my sentiments of this man, and my reasons for treating him with the most pointed neglect.
I write warmly on the subject; for it is a subject in which I think the honor and happiness of my sex concerned. I wish they would more generally espouse their own cause. It would conduce to the public, weal, and to their personal respectability. I rejoice, heartily, that you have had resolution to resist his allurements, to detect and repel his artifices. Resolution in such a case is absolutely necessary; for,
"In spite of all the virtue we can boast,The woman that deliberates is lost."
As I was riding out yesterday I met your mamma. She wondered that I was not one of the party at our new neighbor's. "The reason, madam," said I, "is, that I do not like the character of the man." "I know nothing of him," said she; "he is quite a stranger to me, only as he called at my house last week to pay me his respects, as he said, for the sake of my late husband, whose memory he revered, and because I was the mother of Miss Eliza Wharton, with whom he had the honor of some little acquaintance. His manners are engaging, and I am sorry to hear that his morals are corrupt."
This, my dear, is a very extraordinary visit. I fear that he has not yet laid aside his arts. Be still on your guard, is the advice of your sincere and faithful friend,
I am really banished and rejected—desired nevermore to think of the girl I love with a view of indulging that love or of rendering it acceptable to its object. You will perhaps dispute the propriety of the term, and tell me it is not love—it is only gallantry, and a desire to exercise it with her as a favorite nymph. I neither know nor care by what appellation you distinguish it; but it truly gives me pain. I have not felt one sensation of genuine pleasure since I heard my sentence; yet I acquiesced in it, and submissively took my leave; though I doubt not but I shall retaliate the indignity one time or other.
I have taken possession of my new purchase—an elegant and delightful residence. It is rendered more so by being in the vicinity of my charmer's native abode. This circumstance will conduce much to my enjoyment, if I can succeed in my plan of separating her from Mr. Boyer. I know that my situation and mode of life are far more pleasing to her than his, and shall therefore trust to my appearance and address for a reëstablishment in her favor. I intend, if possible, to ingratiate myself with her particular friends. For this purpose I called last week at her mother's to pay my respects to her (so I told the good woman) as an object of my particular regard, and as the parent of a young lady whom I had the honor to know and admire. She received me very civilly, thanked me for my attention, and invited me to call whenever I had opportunity; which was the very thing I wanted. I intend, likewise, to court popularity. I don't know but I must accept, by and by, some lucrative office in the civil department; yet I cannot bear the idea of confinement to business. It appears to me quite inconsistent with the character of a gentleman; I am sure it is with that of a man of pleasure. But something I must do; for I tell you, in confidence, that I was obliged to mortgage this place because I had not wherewithal to pay for it. But I shall manage matters very well, I have no doubt, and keep up the appearance of affluence till I find some lady in a strait for a husband whose fortune will enable me to extricate myself from these embarrassments. Do come and see me, Charles; for, notwithstanding all my gayety and parade, I have some turns of the hypo, some qualms of conscience, you will call them; but I meddle not with such obsolete words. And so good by to you, says
My dear friend: I believe I must begin to assume airs of gravity; and they will not be quite so foreign to my feelings now as at some other times. You shall know the reason. I have been associated for three days with sentiment and sobriety in the person of Mr. Boyer. I don't know but this man will seduce me into matrimony. He is very eloquent upon the subject; and his manners are so solemn that I am strongly tempted—yet I dare not—to laugh. Really, Lucy, there is something extremely engaging, and soothing, too, in virtuous and refined conversation. It is a source of enjoyment which cannot be realized by the dissolute and unreflecting. But then this particular theme of his is not a favorite one to me; I mean as connected with its consequences—care and confinement. However, I have compounded the matter with him, and conditioned that he shall expatiate on the subject, and call it by what name he pleases,platonicorconjugal, provided he will let me take my own time for the consummation. I have consented that he shall escort me next week to see my mamma and my Lucy. O, how the idea of returning to that revered mansion, to those beloved friends, exhilarates my spirits!
General Richman's politeness to me has induced him to invite a large party of those gentlemen and ladies who have been particularly attentive to me during my residence here to dine and take tea to-morrow. After that, I expect to be engaged in making farewell visits till I leave the place. I shall, therefore, forego the pleasure of telling you any occurrences subsequent to this date until you see and converse with your sincere friend,
Dear madam: The day after I left your hospitable dwelling brought me safe to that of my honored mamma; to the seat of maternal and filial affection; of social ease and domestic peace; of every species of happiness which can result from religion and virtue, from refinement in morals and manners.
I found my brother and his wife, with Lucy Freeman and Mr. Sumner, waiting to receive and bid me welcome. I flew with ecstasy to the bosom of my mamma, who received me with her accustomed affection, testified by the expressive tears of tenderness which stole silently down her widowed cheek. She was unable to speak. I was equally so. We therefore indulged a moment the pleasing emotions of sympathizing sensibility. When disengaged from her fond embrace, I was saluted by the others in turn; and, having recovered myself, I presented Mr. Boyer to each of the company, and each of the company to him. He was cordially received by all, but more especially by my mamma.
The next day I was called upon and welcomed by several of my neighboring acquaintance; among whom I was not a little surprised to see Major Sanford. He came in company with Mr. Stoddard and lady, whom he overtook, as he told me, near by; and, as they informed him that the design of their visit was to welcome me home, he readily accepted their invitation to partake of the pleasure which every one must receive on my return. I bowed slightly at his compliment, taking no visible notice of any peculiarity of expression either in his words or looks.
His politeness to Mr. Boyer appeared to be the result of habit; Mr. Boyer's to him to be forced by respect to the company to which he had gained admission. I dare say that each felt a conscious superiority—the one on the score of merit, the other on that of fortune. Which ought to outweigh the judicious mind will easily decide. The scale, as I once observed to you, will turn as fancy or reason preponderates. I believe the esteem which I now have for Mr. Boyer will keep me steady; except, perhaps, some little eccentricities now and then, just by way of variety. I am going to-morrow morning to spend a few days with Lucy Freeman, to assist in the preparation for, and the solemnization of, her nuptials. Mr. Boyer, in the mean time, will tarry among his friends in town. My mamma is excessively partial to him, though I am not yet jealous that she means to rival me. I am not certain, however, but it might be happy for him if she should; for I suspect, not withstanding the disparity of her age, that she is better calculated to make him a good wife than I am or ever shall be.
But to be sober. Please, madam, to make my compliments acceptable to those of your neighbors, whose politeness and attention to me while at your house have laid me under particular obligations of gratitude and respect. My best regards attend General Richman. Pray tell him that, though I never expect to be so good a wife as he is blessed with, yet I intend, after a while, (when I have sowed all my wild oats,) to make a tolerable one.
I am anxious to hear of a wished-for event, and of your safety. All who know you feel interested in your health and happiness, but none more warmly than your obliged and affectionate
I write a line, at Mrs. Richman's request, just to inform you, Eliza, that, yesterday, that lovely and beloved woman presented me with a daughter. This event awakens new sensations in my mind, and calls into exercise a kind of affection which had before lain dormant. I feel already the tenderness of a parent, while imagination fondly traces the mother's likeness in the infant form. Mrs. Richman expects to receive your congratulations in a letter by the next post. She bids me tell you, moreover, that she hopes soon to receive an invitation, and be able to attend, to the consummation you talk of. Give Mrs. Richman's and my particular regards to your excellent mother and to the worthy Mr. Boyer. With sentiments of esteem and friendship, I am, &c.,
From the scenes of festive mirth, from the conviviality of rejoicing friends, and from the dissipating amusements of the gay world, I retire with alacrity, to hail my beloved friend on the important charge which she has received; on the accession to her family, and, may I not say, on the addition to her care? since that care will be more than counterbalanced by the pleasure it confers. Hail, happy babe! ushered into the world by the best of mothers; entitled by birthright to virtue and honor; defended by parental love from the weakness of infancy and childhood, by guardian wisdom from the perils of youth, and by affluent independence from the griping hand of poverty in more advanced life! May these animating prospects be realized by your little daughter, and may you long enjoy the rich reward of seeing her all that you wish.
Yesterday, my dear friend, Lucy Freeman, gave her hand to the amiable and accomplished Mr. George Sumner. A large circle of congratulating friends were present. Her dress was such as wealth and elegance required. Her deportment was every thing that modesty and propriety could suggest. They are, indeed, a charming couple. The consonance of their dispositions, the similarity of their tastes, and the equality of their ages are a sure pledge of happiness. Every eye beamed with pleasure on the occasion, and every tongue echoed the wishes of benevolence. Mine only was silent. Though not less interested in the felicity of my friend than the rest, yet the idea of a separation, perhaps of an alienation of affection, by means of her entire devotion to another, cast an involuntary gloom over my mind. Mr. Boyer took my hand after the ceremony was past. "Permit me, Miss Wharton," said he, "to lead you to your lovely friend; her happiness must be heightened by your participation of it." "O, no," said I, "I am too selfish for that. She has conferred upon another that affection which I wished to engross. My love was too fervent to admit a rival." "Retaliate, then," said he, "this fancied wrong by doing likewise." I observed that this was not a proper time to discuss that subject, and, resuming my seat, endeavored to put on the appearance of my accustomed vivacity. I need not relate the remaining particulars of-the evening's entertainment. Mr. Boyer returned with my mamma, and I remained at Mrs. Freeman's.
We are to have a ball here this evening. Mr. Boyer has been with us, and tried to monopolize my company; but in vain. I am too much engaged by the exhilarating scenes around for attending to a subject which affords no variety. I shall not close this till to-morrow.
I am rather fatigued with the amusements of last night, which were protracted to a late hour. Mr. Boyer was present; and I was pleased to see him not averse to the entertainment, though his profession prevented him from taking an active part. As all the neighboring gentry were invited, Mr. Freeman would by no means omit Major Sanford, which his daughter earnestly solicited. It happened (unfortunately, shall I say?) that I drew him for a partner. Yet I must own that I felt very little reluctance to my lot. He is an excellent dancer, and well calculated for a companion in the hours of mirth and gayety. I regretted Mr. Boyer's being present, however, because my enjoyment seemed to give him pain. I hope he is not inclined to the passion of jealousy. If he is, I fear it will be somewhat exercised.
Lucy Freeman, now Mrs. Sumner, removes next week to Boston. I have agreed to accompany her, and spend a month or two in her family. This will give variety to the journey of life. Be so kind as to direct your next letter to me there.
Kiss the dear little babe for me. Give love, compliments, &c., as respectively due; and believe me, with every sentiment of respect, your affectionate
Dear Charles: My hopes begin to revive. I am again permitted to associate with my Eliza—invited to the same entertainment. She does not refuse to join with me in the mazy dance, and partake the scenes of festive mirth. Nay, more; she allows me to press her hand to my lips, and listens to the sighing accents of love. Love her I certainly do. Would to Heaven I could marry her! Would to Heaven I had preserved my fortune, or she had one to supply its place! I am distracted at the idea of losing her forever. I am sometimes tempted to solicit her hand in serious earnest; but if I should, poverty and want must be the consequence. Her disappointment in the expectation of affluence and splendor, which I believe her ruling passion, would afford a perpetual source of discontent and mutual wretchedness.
She is going to Boston with her friend, Mrs. Sumner. I must follow her.I must break the connection which is rapidly forming between her and Mr.Boyer, and enjoy her society a while longer, if no more.
I have had a little intimation from New Haven that Miss Lawrence is partial to me, and might easily be obtained, with a handsome property into the bargain. I am neither pleased with nor averse to the girl; but she has money, and that may supply the place of love, by enabling me to pursue independent pleasures. This she must expect, if she marries a man of my cast. She, doubtless, knows my character; and if she is so vain of her charms or influence as to think of reforming or confining me, she must bear the consequences.
However, I can keep my head up at present without recourse to the noose of matrimony, and shall therefore defer any particular attention to her till necessity requires it. I am, &c.,
You commanded me, my dear mamma, to write to you. That command I cheerfully obey, in testimony of my ready submission and respect. No other avocation could arrest my time, which is now completely occupied in scenes of amusement.
Mrs. Sumner is agreeably settled and situated. She appears to be possessed of every blessing which can render life desirable. Almost every day since our arrival has been engrossed by visitants. Our evenings we have devoted to company abroad; and that more generally than we should otherwise have done, as my stay is limited to so short a period. The museum, the theatres, the circus, and the assemblies have been frequented.
Mrs. Sumner has made me several presents; notwithstanding which, the articles requisite to a fashionable appearance have involved me in considerable expense. I fear that you will think me extravagant when you are told how much.
Mr. Boyer tarried in town about a week, having business. He appeared a little concerned at my taste for dissipation, as he once termed it. He even took the liberty to converse seriously on the subject.
I was displeased with his freedom, and reminded him that I had the disposal of my own time as yet, and that, while I escaped the censure of my own heart, I hoped that no one else would presume to arraign it. He apologized, and gave up his argument.
I was much surprised, the first time I went to the play, to see Major Sanford in the very next box. He immediately joined our party; and wherever I have been since, I have been almost sure to meet him.
Mr. Boyer has taken his departure; and I do not expect to see him again till I return home.
O mamma, I am embarrassed about this man. His worth I acknowledge; nay, I esteem him very highly. But can there be happiness with such a disparity of dispositions?
I shall soon return to the bosom of domestic tranquillity, to the arms of maternal tenderness, where I can deliberate and advise at leisure about this important matter. Till when, I am, &c.,
Dear sir: I believe that I owe you an apology for my long silence. But my time has been much engrossed of late, and my mind much more so. When it will be otherwise I cannot foresee. I fear, my friend, that there is some foundation for your suspicions respecting my beloved Eliza. What pity it is that so fair a form, so accomplished a mind, should be tarnished in the smallest degree by the follies of coquetry! If this be the fact, which I am loath to believe, all my regard for her shall never make me the dupe of it.
When I arrived at her residence at New Haven, where I told you in my last I was soon to go, she gave me a most cordial reception. Her whole behavior to me was correspondent with those sentiments of esteem and affection which she modestly avowed. She permitted me to accompany her to Hartford, to restore her to her mother, and to declare my wish to receive her again from her hand. Thus far all was harmony and happiness. As all my wishes were consistent with virtue and honor, she readily indulged them. She took apparent pleasure in my company, encouraged my hopes of a future union, and listened to the tender accents of love.
But the scenes of gayety which invited her attention reversed her conduct. The delightful hours of mutual confidence, of sentimental converse, and of the interchange of refined affection were no more. Instead of these, parties were formed unpleasing to my taste, and every opportunity was embraced to join in diversions in which she knew I could not consistently take a share. I, however, acquiesced in her pleasure, though I sometimes thought myself neglected, and even hinted it to her mother. The old lady apologized for her daughter, by alleging that she had been absent for a long time; that her acquaintances were rejoiced at her return, and welcomed her by striving to promote her amusement.
One of her most intimate friends was married during my stay, and she appeared deeply interested in the event. She spent several days in assisting her previous to the celebration. I resided, in the mean time, at her mamma's, visiting her at her friend's, where Major Sanford, among others, was received as a guest. Mrs. Sumner acquainted me that she had prevailed on Miss Wharton to go and spend a few weeks with her at Boston, whither she was removing, and urged my accompanying them. I endeavored to excuse myself, as I had been absent from my people a considerable time, and my return was now expected. But their importunity was so great, and Eliza's declaration that it would be very agreeable to her so tempting, that I consented. Here I took lodgings, and spent about a week, taking every opportunity to converse with Eliza, striving to discover her real disposition towards me. I mentioned the inconvenience of visiting her so often as I wished, and suggested my desire to enter, as soon as might be, into a family relation. I painted, in the most alluring colors, the pleasures resulting from domestic tranquillity, mutual confidence, and conjugal affection, and insisted on her declaring frankly whether she designed to share this happiness with me, and when it should commence. She owned that she intended to give me her hand, but when she should be ready she could not yet determine. She pretended a promise from me to wait her time, to consent that she should share the pleasures of the fashionable world as long as she chose, &c.
I then attempted to convince her of her mistaken ideas of pleasure; that the scenes of dissipation, of which she was so passionately fond, afforded no true enjoyment; that the adulation of the coxcomb could not give durability to her charms, or secure the approbation of the wise and good; nor could the fashionable amusements of brilliant assemblies and crowded theatres furnish the mind with
"That which nothing earthly gives or can destroy—The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy."
These friendly suggestions, I found, were considered as the theme of a priest, and my desire to detach her from such empty pursuits as the selfishness of a lover. She was even offended at my freedom, and warmly affirmed that no one had a right to arraign her conduct. I mentioned Major Sanford, who was then in town, and who (though she went to places of public resort with Mr. and Mrs. Sumner) always met and gallanted her home. She rallied me upon my jealousy, as she termed it, wished that I would attend her myself, and then she should need no other gallant. I answered that I had rather resign that honor to another, but wished, for her sake, that he might be a gentleman whose character would not disgrace the company with which he associated. She appeared mortified and chagrined in the extreme. However, she studiously suppressed her emotions, and even soothed me with the blandishments of female softness. We parted amicably. She promised to return soon and prepare for a compliance with my wishes. I cannot refuse to believe her. I cannot cease to love her. My heart is in her possession. She has a perfect command of my passions. Persuasion dwells on her tongue. With all the boasted fortitude and resolution of our sex, we are but mere machines. Let love once pervade our breasts, and its object may mould us into any form that pleases her fancy, or even caprice.
I have just received a letter from Eliza, informing me of her return to Hartford. To-morrow I shall set out on a visit to the dear girl; for, my friend, notwithstanding all her foibles, she is very dear to me. Before you hear from me again I expect that the happy day will be fixed—the day which shall unite in the-most sacred bands this lovely maid and your faithful friend,
I have returned; and the day, indeed, is fixed; but O, how different from my fond expectations! It is not the day of union, but the day of final separation; the day which divides me from my charmer; the day which breaks asunder the bands of love; the day on which my reason assumes its empire, and triumphs over the arts of a finished coquette. Congratulate me, my friend, that I have thus overcome my feelings, and repelled the infatuating wiles of a deceitful girl. I would not be understood to impeach Miss Wharton's virtue; I mean her chastity. Virtue, in the common acceptation of the term, as applied to the sex, is confined to that particular, you know. But in my view, this is of little importance where all other virtues are wanting.
When I arrived at Mrs. Wharton's, and inquired for Eliza, I was told that she had rode out, but was soon expected home. An hour after, a phaeton stopped at the door, from which my fair one alighted, and was handed into the house by Major Sanford, who immediately took leave. I met her, and offered my hand, which she received with apparent tenderness.
When the family had retired after supper, and left us to talk on our particular affairs, I found the same indecision, the same loathness to bring our courtship to a period, as formerly. Her previous excuses were renewed, and her wishes to have a union still longer delayed were zealously urged. She could not bear the idea of confinement to the cares of a married life at present, and begged me to defer all solicitation on that subject to some future day. I found my temper rise, and told her plainly that I was not thus to be trifled with; that if her regard for me was sincere, if she really intended to form a connection with me, she could not thus protract the time, try my patience, and prefer every other pleasure to the rational interchange of affection, to the calm delights of domestic life. But in vain did I argue against her false notions of happiness, in vain did I represent the dangerous system of conduct which she now pursued, and urge her to accept, before it was too late, the hand and heart which were devoted to her service. That, she said, she purposed ere long to do, and hoped amply to reward my faithful love; but she could not fix the time this evening. She must consider a little further, and likewise consult her mother. "Is it not Major Sanford whom you wish to consult, madam?" said I. She blushed, and gave me no answer. "Tell me, Eliza," I continued, "tell me frankly, if he has not supplanted me in your affections—if he be not the cause of my being thus evasively, thus cruelly, treated." "Major Sanford, sir," replied she, "has done you no harm. He is a particular friend of mine, a polite gentleman, and an agreeable neighbor, and therefore I treat him with civility; but he is not so much interested in my concerns as to alter my disposition towards any other person." "Why," said I, "do you talk of friendship with a man of his character? Between his society and mine there is a great contrast. Such opposite pursuits and inclinations cannot be equally pleasing to the same taste. It is, therefore, necessary that you renounce the one to enjoy the other; I will give you time to decide which. I am going to a friend's house to spend the night, and will call on you to-morrow, if agreeable, and converse with you further upon the matter." She bowed assent, and I retired.
The next afternoon I went, as agreed, and found her mamma and her alone in the parlor. She was very pensive, and appeared to have been in tears. The sight affected me. The idea of having treated her harshly the evening before disarmed me of my resolution to insist on her decision that day. I invited her to ride with me and visit a friend, to which she readily consented. We spent our time agreeably. I forbore to press her on the subject of our future union, but strove rather to soothe her mind, and inspire her with sentiments of tenderness towards me. I conducted her home, and returned early in the evening to my friend's, who met me at the door, and jocosely told me that he expected that I should now rob them of their agreeable neighbor. "But," added he, "we have been apprehensive that you would be rivalled if you delayed your visit much longer." "I did not suspect a rival," said I. "Who can the happy man be?" "I can say nothing from personal observation," said he; "but fame, of late, has talked loudly of Major Sanford and Miss Wharton. Be not alarmed," continued he, seeing me look grave; "I presume no harm is intended; the major is a man of gallantry, and Miss Wharton is a gay lady; but I dare say that your connection will be happy,if it be formed" I noticed a particular emphasis on the wordif; and, as we were alone, I followed him with questions till the whole affair was developed. I informed him of my embarrassment, and he gave me to understand that Eliza's conduct had, for some time past, been a subject of speculation in the town; that, formerly, her character was highly esteemed; but that her intimacy with a man of Sanford's known libertinism, more especially as she was supposed to be engaged to another, had rendered her very censurable; that they were often together; that wherever she went he was sure to follow, as if by appointment; that they walked, talked, sung, and danced together in all companies; that some supposed he he would marry her; others, that he only meditated adding her name to the black catalogue of deluded wretches, whom he had already ruined!
I rose, and walked the room in great agitation. He apologized for his freedom; was sorry if he had wounded my feelings; but friendship alone had induced him frankly to declare the truth, that I might guard against duplicity and deceit.
I thanked him for his kind intensions; and assured him that I should not quit the town till I had terminated this affair, in one way or another.
I retired to bed, but sleep was a stranger to my eyes. With the dawn I rose; and after breakfast walked to Mrs. Wharton's, who informed me, that Eliza was in her chamber, writing to a friend, but would be down in a few minutes. I entered into conversation with the old lady on the subject of her daughter's conduct; hinted my suspicions of the cause, and declared my resolution of knowing my destiny immediately. She endeavored to extenuate, and excuse her as much as possible; but frankly owned that her behavior was mysterious; that no pains had been wanting, on her part, to alter and rectify it; that she had remonstrated, expostulated, advised and entreated, as often as occasion required. She hoped that my resolution would have a good effect, as she knew that her daughter esteemed me very highly.
In this manner we conversed till the clock struck twelve; and, Eliza not appearing, I desired her mamma to send up word that I waited to see her. The maid returned with an answer that she was indisposed, and had lain down. Mrs. Wharton observed that she had not slept for several nights, and complained of the headache in the morning. The girl added that she would wait on Mr. Boyer in the evening. Upon this information I rose, and abruptly took my leave. I went to dine with a friend, to whom I had engaged myself the day before; but my mind was too much agitated to enjoy either the company or the dinner. I excused myself from tarrying to tea, and returned to Miss Wharton's. On inquiry, I was told that Eliza had gone to walk in the garden, but desired that no person might intrude on her retirement. The singularity of the request awakened my curiosity, and determined me to follow her. I sought her in vain in different parts of the garden, till, going towards an arbor, almost concealed from sight by surrounding shrubbery, I discovered her sitting in close conversation with Major Sanford! My blood chilled in my veins, and I stood petrified with astonishment at the disclosure of such baseness and deceit. They both rose in visible confusion. I dared not trust myself to accost them. My passions were raised, and I feared that I might say or do something unbecoming my character. I therefore gave them a look of indignation and contempt, and retreated to the house. I traversed the parlor hastily, overwhelmed with chagrin and resentment. Mrs. Wharton inquired the cause. I attempted to tell her, but my tongue refused utterance. While in this situation, Eliza entered the room. She was not less discomposed than myself. She sat down at the window and wept. Her mamma wept likewise. At length she recovered herself, in a degree, and desired me to sit down. I answered, No, and continued walking. "Will you," said she, "permit me to vindicate my conduct, and explain my motives?" "Your conduct," said I, "cannot be vindicated; your motives need no explanation; they are too apparent. How, Miss Wharton, have I merited this treatment from you? But I can bear it no longer. Your indifference to me proceeds from an attachment to another, and, forgive me if I add, to one who is the disgrace of his own sex and the destroyer of yours. I have been too long the dupe of your dissimulation and coquetry—too long has my peace of mind been sacrificed to the arts of a woman whose conduct has proved her unworthy of my regard; insensible to love, gratitude, and honor.
"To you, madam," said I, turning to her mother, "I acknowledge my obligations for your friendship, politeness, and attention. I once hoped for the privilege of rocking for you the cradle of declining age. I am deprived of that privilege; but I pray that you may never want a child whose love and duty shall prove a source of consolation and comfort.
"Farewell. If we never meet again in this life, I hope and trust we shall in a better—where the parent's eye shall cease to weep for the disobedience of a child, and the lover's heart to bleed for the infidelity of his mistress."
I turned to Eliza, and attempted to speak; but her extreme emotion softened me, and I could not command my voice. I took her hand, and bowing, in token of an adieu, went precipitately out of the house. The residence of my friend, with whom I lodged, was at no great distance, and thither I repaired. As I met him in the entry, I rushed by him, and betook myself to my chamber. The fever of resentment and the tumult of passion began now to give place to the softer emotions of the soul. I found myself perfectly unmanned. I gave free scope to the sensibility of my heart; and the effeminate relief of tears materially lightened the load which oppressed me.
After this arduous struggle I went to bed, and slept more calmly than for several nights before. The next morning I wrote a farewell letter to Eliza, (a copy of which I shall enclose to you,) and, ordering my horse to be brought, left town immediately.
My resentment of her behavior has much assisted me in erasing her image from my breast. In this exertion I have succeeded beyond my most sanguine expectations. The more I reflect on her temper and disposition, the more my gratitude is enlivened towards the wise Disposer of all events for enabling me to break asunder the snares of the deluder. I am convinced that the gayety and extravagance of her taste, the frivolous levity of her manners, disqualify her for the station in which I wished to have placed her. These considerations, together with that resignation to an overruling Providence which the religion I profess and teach requires me to cultivate, induce me cheerfully to adopt the following lines of an ingenious poet:—
"Since all the downward tracts of timeGod's watchful eye surveys,O, who so wise to choose our lot,Or regulate our ways?
"Since none can doubt his equal love,Unmeasurably kind,To his unerring, gracious willBe every wish, resigned.
"Good when he gives, supremely good;Not less when he denies;E'en crosses from his sovereign handAre blessings in disguise."
I am, &c., J. BOYER.
[Enclosed in the foregoing.]
Madam: Fearing that my resolution may not be proof against the eloquence of those charms which has so long commanded me, I take this method of bidding you a final adieu. I write not as a lover,—that connection between us is forever dissolved,—but I address you as a friend; as a friend to your happiness, to your reputation, to your temporal and eternal welfare. I will not rehearse the innumerable instances of your imprudence and misconduct which have fallen under my observation. Your own heart must be your monitor. Suffice it for me to warn you against the dangerous tendency of so dissipated a life, and to tell you that I have traced (I believe aright) the cause of your dissimulation and indifference to me. They are an aversion to the sober, rational, frugal mode of living to which my profession leads; a fondness for the parade, the gayety, not to say the licentiousness, of a station calculated to gratify such a disposition; and a prepossession for Major Sanford, infused into your giddy mind by the frippery, flattery, and artifice of that worthless and abandoned man. Hence you preferred a connection with him, if it could be accomplished; but a doubt whether it could, together with the advice of your friends, who have kindly espoused my cause, has restrained you from the avowal of your real sentiments, and led you to continue your civilities to me. What the result of your coquetry would have been had I waited for it, I cannot say; nor have I now any desire or interest to know. I tear from my breast the idea which I have long cherished of future union and happiness with you in the conjugal state. I bid a last farewell to these fond hopes, and leave you forever.
For your own sake, however, let me conjure you to review your conduct, and, before you have advanced beyond the possibility of returning to rectitude and honor, to restrain your steps from the dangerous path in which you now tread.
Fly Major Sanford. That man is a deceiver. Trust not his professions. They are certainly insincere, or he would not affect concealment; he would not induce you to a clandestine intercourse. Many have been the victims to his treachery. O Eliza, add not to the number. Banish him from your society if you wish to preserve your virtue unsullied, your character unsuspicious. It already begins to depreciate. Snatch it from the envenomed tongue of slander before it receive an incurable wound.
Many faults have been visible to me, over which my affection once drew a veil. That veil is now removed; and acting the part of a disinterested friend, I shall mention some few of them with freedom. There is a levity in your manners which is inconsistent with the solidity and decorum becoming a lady who has arrived to years of discretion. There is also an unwarrantable extravagance betrayed in your dress. Prudence and economy are such necessary, at least such decent, virtues, that they claim the attention of every female, whatever be her station or her property. To these virtues you are apparently inattentive. Too large a portion of your time is devoted to the adorning of your person.
Think not that I write thus plainly from resentment. No, it is from benevolence. I mention your foibles, not to reproach you with them, but that you may consider their nature and effects, and renounce them.
I wish you to regard this letter as the legacy of a friend, and to improve it accordingly. I shall leave town before you receive it. O, how different are my sensations at going from what they were when I came! But I forbear description. Think not, Eliza, that I leave you with indifference. The conquest is great, the trial more than I can calmly support; yet the consciousness of duty affords consolation—-a duty I conceive it to be which I owe to myself and to the people of my charge, who are interested in my future connection.
I wish not for an answer; my resolution is unalterably fixed. But should you hereafter be convinced of the justice of my conduct, and become a convert to my advice, I shall be happy to hear it.
That you may have wisdom to keep you from falling, and conduct you safely through this state of trial to the regions of immortal bliss, is the fervent prayer of your sincere friend and humble servant,
The retirement of my native home is not so gloomy, since my return from Boston, as I expected, from the contrast between them. Indeed, the customs and amusements of this place are materially altered since the residence of Major Sanford among us. The dull, old-fashioned sobriety which formerly prevailed is nearly banished, and cheerfulness, vivacity, and enjoyment are substituted in its stead. Pleasure is now diffused through all ranks of the people, especially the rich; and surely it ought to be cultivated, since the wisest of men informs us that a merry heart "doth good like a medicine." As human life hath many diseases which require medicines, are we not right in selecting the most agreeable and palatable? Major Sanford's example has had great influence upon our society in general; and though some of our old ones think him rather licentious, yet, for aught I can see, he is as strict an observer of decorum as the best of them. True, he seldom goes to church; but what of that? The Deity is not confined to temples made with hands. He may worship him as devoutly elsewhere, if he chooses; and who has a right to say he does not?
His return from Boston was but a day or two after mine. He paid me an early visit, and, indeed, has been very attentive ever since. My mamma is somewhat precise in her notions of propriety, and, of course, blames me for associating so freely with him. She says that my engagements to Mr. Boyer ought to render me more sedate, and more indifferent to the gallantry of mere pleasurehunters, to use her phrase. But I think otherwise. If I am to become a recluse, let me at least enjoy those amusements which are suited to my taste a short time first. Why should I refuse the polite attentions of this gentleman? They smooth the rugged path of life, and wonderfully accelerate the lagging wheels of time.
Indeed, Lucy, he has an admirable talent for contributing to vary and increase amusement. We have few hours unimproved. Some new plan of pleasure and sociability is constantly courting our adoption. He lives in all the magnificence of a prince: and why should I, who can doubtless share that magnificence if I please, forego the advantages and indulgences it offers, merely to gratify those friends who pretend to be better judges of my happiness than I am myself? I have not yet told my mamma that he entertains me with the lover's theme, or, at least, that I listen to it. Yet I must own to you, from whom I have never concealed an action or idea, that his situation in life charms my imagination; that the apparent fervor and sincerity of his passion affect my heart. Yet there is something extremely problematical in his conduct. He is very urgent with me to dissolve my connection with Mr. Boyer, and engage not to marry him without his consent, or knowledge, to say no more. He warmly applauds my wish still longer to enjoy the freedom and independence of a single state, and professedly adopts it for his own. While he would disconnect me from another, he mysteriously conceals his own intentions and views. In conversation with him yesterday, I plainly told him that his conduct was unaccountable; that, if his professions and designs were honorable, he could not neglect to mention them to my mamma; that I should no longer consent to carry on a clandestine intercourse with him; that I hourly expected Mr. Boyer, whom I esteemed, and who was the favorite of my friends; and that, unless he acted openly in this affair before his arrival, I should give my hand to him.
He appeared thunderstruck at this declaration. All his words and actions were indicative of the most violent emotions of mind. He entreated me to recall the sentence; for I knew not, he said, his motives for secrecy; yet he solemnly swore that they were honorable. I replied in the words of the poet,—
"Trust not a man; they are by nature cruel,False, deceitful, treacherous, and inconstant.When a man talks of love, with caution hear him;But if he swear, he'll certainly deceive you."
He begged that he might know by what means he had provoked my suspicions; by what means he had forfeited my confidence. His importunity vanquished my fortitude; and before we parted, I again promised to make him acquainted, from time to time, with the progress of my connection with Mr. Boyer.
Now, my dear friend, I want your advice more than ever. I am inadvertently embarrassed by this man; and how to extricate myself I know not. I am sensible that the power is in my hands; but the disposition (shall I confess it?) is wanting.
"I know the right; and I approve it too;I know the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue."
I have just received a card from Major Sanford, inviting me to ride this afternoon. At first I thought of returning a negative answer; but, recollecting that Mr. Boyer must soon be here, I concluded it best to embrace this opportunity of talking further with him. I must now prepare to go, but shall not close this letter, for I intend writing in continuation, as events occur, till this important business is decided.
Tuesday evening.—The little tour which I mentioned to you this afternoon was not productive of a final determination. The same plea was repeated over and over again without closing the cause. On my return I found Mr. Boyer waiting to receive me. My heart beat an involuntary welcome. I received him very cordially, though with a kind of pleasure mixed with apprehension. I must own that his conversation and manners are much better calculated to bear the scrutinizing eye of a refined understanding and taste than Major Sanford's. But whether the fancy ought not to be consulted about our settlement in life, is with me a question.
When we parted last I had promised Mr. Boyer to inform him positively, at this visit, when my hand should be given. He therefore came, as he told me in the course of our conversation, with the resolution of claiming the fulfilment of this promise.
I begged absolution, told him that I could not possibly satisfy his claim, and sought still to evade and put off the important decision. He grew warm, and affirmed that I treated him ungenerously and made needless delays. He even accused me of indifference towards him, and of partiality to another. Major Sanford, he believed, was the man who robbed him of the affection which he had supposed his due. He warned me against any intercourse with him, and insisted that I must renounce the society of the one or the other immediately.
He would leave me, he said, this evening, and call to-morrow to know the result of my determination. It was late before he bade me good night, since which I have written these particulars. It is now time to lay aside my pen, and deliberate what course to take.
Wednesday evening.—Last night I closed not my eyes. I rose this morning with the sun, and went into the garden till breakfast. My mamma doubtless saw the disorder of my mind, but kindly avoided any inquiry about it. She was affectionately attentive to me, but said nothing of my particular concerns. I mentioned not my embarrassment to her. She had declared herself in favor of Mr. Boyer; therefore I had no expectation that she would advise impartially. I retired to my chamber, and remained in a kind of revery for more than an hour, when I was roused by the rattling of a carriage at the door. I hastened to the window, and saw Major Sanford just driving away. The idea of his having been to converse with my mamma gave me new sensations. A thousand perplexities occurred to my mind relative to the part most proper for me to act in this critical situation. All these might have been avoided, had I gone down and inquired into the matter; but this I delayed till dinner. My mamma then informed me that Major Sanford had been with her, and inquired for me, but that she thought it unnecessary to call me, as she presumed I had no particular business with him. I knew the motives by which she was actuated, and was vexed at her evasions. I told her plainly that she would never carry her point in this way; that Thought myself capable of conducting my own affairs, and wished her not to interfere, except by her advice, which I should always listen to and comply with when I could possibly make it consistent with my inclination and interest. She wept at my undutiful anger, (of which I have severely repented since,) and affectionately replied, that my happiness was the object of her wishes and prayers; conformably to which she felt constrained freely to speak her mind, though it incurred my displeasure. She then went through again with all the comparative circumstances and merits of the two candidates for my favor, which have perpetually rung in my ears for months. I shed tears at the idea of my embarrassment; and in this condition Mr. Boyer found us. He appeared to be affected by my visible disorder, and, without inquiring the cause, endeavored to dissipate it. This was kindly done. He conversed upon indifferent subjects, and invited me to ride, and take tea with your mamma, to which I readily consented. We found her at home, and passed the time agreeably, excepting the alloy of your absence. Mr. Boyer touched lightly on the subject of our last evening's debate, but expatiated largely on the pleasing power of love, and hoped that we should one day both realize and exemplify it in perfection. When we returned he observed that it was late, and took his leave, telling me that he should call to-morrow, and begged that I would then relieve his suspense. As I was retiring to bed, the maid gave me a hint that Major Sanford's servant had been here and left a letter. I turned instantly back to my mamma, and, telling her my information, demanded the letter. She hesitated, but I insisted on having it; and seeing me resolute, she reluctantly gave it into my hand. It contained the following words:—
"Am I forsaken? am I abandoned? O my adorable Eliza, have you sacrificed me to my rival? have you condemned me to perpetual banishment without a hearing?
"I came this day to plead my cause at your feet, but was cruelly denied the privilege of seeing you. My mind is all anarchy and confusion. My soul is harrowed up with jealousy. I will be revenged on those who separate us, if that distracting event take place. But it is from your lips only that I can hear my sentence. You must witness its effects. To what lengths my despair may carry me I know not. You are the arbitress of my fate.
"Let me conjure you to meet me in your garden to-morrow at any hour you shall appoint. My servant will call for an answer in the morning. Deny me not an interview, but have pity on your faithful SANFORD."
I wrote for answer that I would meet him to-morrow, at five o'clock in the afternoon.
I have now before me another night for consideration, and shall pass it in that employment. I purpose not to see Mr. Boyer till I have conversed with Major Sanford.
Thursday morning.—The morning dawns, and ushers in the day—a day, perhaps, big with the fate of your friend. What that fate may be is wrapped in the womb of futurity—that futurity which a kind Providence has wisely concealed from the penetration of mortals.
After mature consideration, after revolving and re-revolving every circumstance on both sides of the question, I have nearly determined, in compliance with the advice of my friends and the dictates of my own judgment, to give Mr. Boyer the preference, and with him to tread the future round of life.
As to the despair of Major Sanford, it does not much alarm me. Such violent passions are seldom so deeply rooted as to produce lasting effects. I must, however, keep my word, and meet him according to promise.
Mr. Boyer is below. My mamma has just sent me word that he wished to see me. My reply was, that I had lain down, which was a fact.
One o'clock.—My mamma, alarmed by my indisposition, has visited my apartment. I soon convinced her that it was but trifling, owing principally to the want of sleep, and that an airing in the garden, which I intended towards night, would restore me.
Ten o'clock at night.—The day is past; and such a day it has been as I hope nevermore to see. At the hour appointed, I went, tolerably composed and resolute, into the garden. I had taken several turns, and retired into the little arbor, where you and I have spent so many happy hours, before Major Sanford entered. When he appeared, a consciousness of the impropriety of this clandestine intercourse suffused my cheek, and gave a coldness to my manners. He immediately penetrated the cause, and observed that my very countenance told him he was no longer a welcome guest to me. I asked him if he ought so to be, since his motives for seeking admission were unworthy of being communicated to my friends. That, he said, was not the case, but that prudence in the present instance required a temporary concealment. He then undertook to exculpate himself from blame, assuring me that as soon as I should discountenance the expectations of Mr. Boyer, and discontinue the reception of his address, his intentions should be made known. He was enlarging upon this topic, when we heard a footstep approaching us, and, looking up, saw Mr. Boyer within a few paces of the arbor. Confusion seized us both. We rose involuntarily from our seats, but were mute as statues. He spoke not a word, but casting a look of indignant accusation at me,—a glance which penetrated my very soul,—turned on his heel, and walked hastily back to the house.
I stood a few moments, considering what course to take, though shame and regret had almost taken from me the power of thought.
Major Sanford took my hand. I withdrew it from him. "Imustleave you," said I. "Where will you go?" said he. "I will go and try to retrieve my character. It has suffered greatly by this fatal interview."
He threw himself at my feet, and exclaimed, "Leave me not, Eliza; I conjure you not to leave me." "Let me go now," I rejoined, "or I bid you farewell forever." I flew precipitately by him, and went into the parlor, where I found Mr. Boyer and my mamma, the one traversing the room in the greatest agitation, the other in a flood of tears. Their appearance affected me, and I wept like an infant. When I had a little recovered myself, I begged him to sit down. He answered, No. I then told him that however unjustifiable my conduct might appear, perhaps I might explain it to his satisfaction if he would hear me; that my motives were innocent, though they doubtless wore the aspect of criminality in his view. He sternly replied, that no palliation could avail; that my motives were sufficiently notorious. He accused me of treating him ill, of rendering him the dupe of coquetting artifice, of having an intrigue with Major Sanford, and declared his determination to leave me forever, as unworthy of his regard, and incapable of love, gratitude, or honor. There was too much reason in support of his accusations for me to gainsay them, had his impetuosity suffered me to attempt it.
But, in truth, I had no inclination to self-defence. My natural vivacity had forsaken me, and I listened without interrupting him to the fluency of reproachful language which his resentment inspired. He took a very solemn and affectionate leave of my mamma, thanking her for her politeness, and wishing her much future felicity. He attempted to address me, I suppose, somewhat in the same way; but his sensibility somewhat overcame him, and he only took my hand, and, bowing in silence, departed.
The want of rest for two long nights together, the exercise of mind, and conflict of passions which now tortured my breast, were too much for me to support.
When I saw that he was gone, that he had actually forsaken me, I fainted. My mamma, with the assistance of the maid, soon restored me.
When I opened my eyes and beheld this amiable and tender parent watching and attending me with the most anxious concern, without one reproachful word, without one accusing look, my reflections upon the part I had acted, in defeating her benevolent wishes, were exquisitely afflictive. But we mutually forbore to mention the occasion of my illness; and I complied with her advice to take some refreshment, and retire to my chamber. I am so much fatigued by the exertions of the day that rest is absolutely necessary; and I lay aside my pen to seek it.
Friday morning.—When I shall again receive the balmy influence of sleep, I know not. It has absolutely forsaken me at present. I have had a most restless night. Every awakening idea presented itself to my imagination; whether I had sustained a real loss in Mr. Boyer's departure, reflections on my own misconduct, with the censure of my friends, and the ill-natured remarks of my enemies, excited the most painful anxiety in my mind.
I am going down; but how shall I see my mamma? To her I will confess my faults, in her maternal breast repose my cares, and by her friendly advice regulate my conduct. Had I done this before, I might have escaped this trouble, and saved both her and myself many distressing emotions.
Friday evening'.—I have had a long conversation with my mamma, which has greatly relieved my mind. She has soothed me with the most endearing tenderness.
Mr. Atkins, with whom Mr. Boyer lodged while in town, called here this afternoon. I did not see him; but he told my mamma that Mr. Boyer had returned home, and left a letter for me, which he had promised to convey with his own hand. By this I am convinced that the die is absolutely cast with respect to him, and that no attempts on my part to bring about a reconciliation would be either prudent or successful. He has penetrated the cause of my proceedings; and such is his resentment, that I am inclined not much to regret his avoiding another interview.
My excuses would be deemed utterly insufficient, and truth would not befriend and justify me.
As I know you are impatient to hear from me, I will now despatch this long letter without any other addition than that I am your sincere friend,
Well, Charles, the show is over, as we Yankees say, and the girl is my own; that is, if I will have her. I shall take my own time for that, however. I have carried my point, and am amply revenged on the whole posse of those dear friends of hers. She was entangled by a promise (not to marry this priest without my knowledge) which her conscience would not let her break. Thank God, I have no conscience. If I had, I believe it would make wretched work with me. I suppose she intended to have one or the other of us, but preferred me. I have escaped the noose this time, and I'll be fairly hanged if I ever get so near it again; for indeed, Charles, I was seriously alarmed. I watched all their motions, and the appearance of harmony between them awakened all my activity and zeal. So great was my infatuation, that I verily believe I should have asked her in marriage, and risked the consequences, rather than to have lost her.
I went to the house while Mr. Boyer was in town; but her mamma refused to call her, or to acquaint her that I was there. I then wrote a despairing letter, and obtained a conference with her in the garden. This was a fortunate event for me. True, Eliza was very haughty, and resolutely insisted on an immediate declaration or rejection; and I cannot say what would have been the result if Mr. Boyer had not surprised us together. He gave us a pretty harsh look, and retired without speaking a word.
I endeavored to detain Eliza, but in vain. She left me on my knees, which are always ready to bend on such occasions.
This finished the matter, it seems. I rose, and went into a neighbor's to observe what happened, and in about half an hour saw Mr. Boyer come out and go to his lodgings. "This," said I to myself, "is a good omen." I went home, and was informed, next day, that he had mounted his horse and departed.
I heard nothing more of her till yesterday, when I determined to know how she stood affected towards me. I therefore paid her a visit, her mamma being luckily abroad.
She received me very placidly, and told me, on inquiry, that Mr. Boyer's resentment at her meeting me in the garden was so great that he had bade her a final adieu. I congratulated myself on having no rival, hoped that her favor would now be unbiased, and that in due time I should reap the reward of my fidelity. She begged me not to mention the subject, said she had been perplexed by our competition, and wished not to hear any thing further about it at present. I bowed in obedience to her commands, and changed the discourse.
I informed her that I was about taking a tour to the southward; that I should be absent several months, and trusted that on my return her embarrassments would be over.
I left her with regret After all, Charles, she is thesummum bonumof my life. I must have her in some way or other. Nobody else shall, I am resolved.
I am making preparations for my journey, which, between you and me, is occasioned by the prospect of making a speculation, by which I hope to mend my affairs. The voyage will at least lessen my expenses, and screen me from the importunity of creditors till I can look about me.
My dear Eliza: Through the medium of my friends at Hartford, I have been informed of the progress of your affairs as they have transpired. The detail which my sister gave me of your separation from Mr. Boyer was painful, as I had long contemplated a happy union between you; but still more disagreeable sensations possessed my breast when told that you had suffered your lively spirits to be depressed, and resigned yourself to solitude and dejection.
Why, my dear friend, should you allow this event thus to affect you? Heaven, I doubt not, has happiness still in store for you—perhaps greater than you could have enjoyed in that connection. If the conviction of any misconduct on your part gives you pain, dissipate it by the reflection that unerring rectitude is not the lot of mortals; that few are to be found who have not deviated, in a greater or less degree, from the maxims of prudence. Our greatest mistakes may teach lessons which will be useful through life.
But I will not moralize. Come and see us, and we will talk over the matter once, and then dismiss it forever. Do prevail on your mamma to part with you a month or two at least. I wish you to witness how well I manage my nursery business. You will be charmed with little Harriet. I am already enough of the mother to think her a miniature of beauty and perfection.
How natural and how easy the transition from one stage of life to another! Not long since, I was a gay, volatile girl, seeking satisfaction in fashionable circles and amusements; but now I am thoroughly domesticated. All my happiness is centred within the limits of my own walls, and I grudge every moment that calls me from the pleasing scenes of domestic life. Not that I am so selfish as to exclude my friends from my affection or society. I feel interested in their concerns, and enjoy their company. I must own, however, that conjugal and parental love are the mainsprings of my life. The conduct of some mothers, in depriving their helpless offspring of the care and kindness which none but a mother can feel, is to me unaccountable. There are many nameless attentions which nothing short of maternal tenderness and solicitude can pay, and for which the endearing smiles and progressive improvements of the lovely babe are an ample reward.
How delightful to trace from day to day the expansion of reason and the dawnings of intelligence! O, how I anticipate the time when these faculties shall be displayed by the organs of speech, when the lisping accent shall heighten our present pleasure, and the young idea be capable of direction "how to shoot"! General Richman is not less interested by these enjoyments than myself. All the father beams in his eye; all the husband reigns in his heart and pervades his every action.
Miss Lawrence is soon to be married to Mr. Laiton. I believe he is a mere fortune hunter. Indeed, she has little to recommend her to any other. Nature has not been very bountiful either to her body or mind. Her parents have been shamefully deficient in her education, but have secured to her what they think the chief good—not considering that happiness is by no means the invariable attendant of wealth.
I hope this incoherent scrawl will amuse, while it induces you speedily to favor us with another visit.
My best wishes attend your honored mamma, while I subscribe myself, &c.,
I am extremely depressed, my dear Lucy. The agitating scenes through which I have lately passed have broken my spirits, and rendered me unfit for society. Major Sanford has visited me, and taken his leave. He is gone to the southward on a tour of two or three months. I declined any further conversation with him on the subject of love. At present I wish not to hear it mentioned by any one.
I have received a very friendly and consolatory letter from Mrs. Richman. She invites me to spend a few months with her, which, with my mamma's consent, I shall do. I hope the change of situation and company will dissipate the gloom which hangs over my mind.
It is a common observation, that we know not the value of a blessing but by deprivation. This is strictly verified in my case. I was insensible of my regard for Mr. Boyer till this fatal separation took place. His merit and worth now appear in the brightest colors. I am convinced of that excellence which I once slighted, and the shade of departed happiness haunts me perpetually. I am sometimes tempted to write to him and confess my faults; to tell him the situation of my mind, and to offer him my hand; but he has precluded all hopes of success by the severity of his letter to me. At any rate, I shall do nothing of the kind till my return from New Haven.
I am the more willing to leave home as my affairs are made a town talk. My mamma persuades me to disregard it; but how can I rise superior to "the world's dread laugh, which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn"?
Pray remember me to Mr. Sumner. You are happy, my friend, in the love and esteem of a worthy man, but more happy still in deserving them. Adieu.
I have returned to the once smiling seat of maternal affection; but I find not repose and happiness even here.
In the society of my amiable friends at New Haven, I enjoyed every thing that friendship could bestow; but rest to a disturbed mind was not in their power.
I was on various parties of pleasure, and passed through different scenes of amusement; but with me they have lost their charms. I relished them not as formerly.
Mrs. Richman advises me to write to Mr. Boyer, and I have concluded to act accordingly. If it answer no other purpose, it will be a relief to my mind. If he ever felt for me the tenderness and regard which he professed, I think they cannot be entirely obliterated. If they still remain, perhaps I may rekindle the gentle flame, and we may both be happy. I may at least recall his esteem, and that will be a satisfaction to my conscious mind.
I wonder what has become of Major Sanford. Has he, too, forsaken me? Is it possible for him wilfully to neglect me? I will not entertain so injurious a suspicion. Yet, if it were the case, it would not affect me like Mr. Boyer's disaffection; for I frankly own that my fancy, and a taste for gayety of life, induced me to cherish the idea of a connection with Major Sanford; while Mr. Boyer's real merit has imprinted those sentiments of esteem and love in my heart which time can never efface.
Instead of two or three, more than twelve months have elapsed, and I have not received a line from Major Sanford in all that time, which I fully expected, though he made no mention of writing; nor have I heard a syllable about him, except a report circulated by his servants, that he is on the point of marrying, which I do not believe. No; it is impossible. I am persuaded that his passion for me was sincere, however deceitful he may have been with others. But I will not bestow an anxious thought upon him. My design relative to Mr. Boyer demands my whole attention.
My hopes and fears alternately prevail, and my resolution is extremely fluctuating. How it finally terminates you shall hear in my next. Pray write to me soon. I stand in need of the consoling power of friendship. Nothing can beguile my pensive hours, and exhilarate my drooping spirits, like your letters.
Let me know how you are to be entertained this winter at the theatre. That, you know, is a favorite amusement of mine. You see I can step out of myself a little. Afford an assisting hand, and perhaps I may again be fit for society.
Sir: It is partly in compliance with your desire, in your last letter to me, in which you tell me "that when I am convinced of the justice of your conduct, and become a convert to your advice, you shall be happy to hear it," and partly from a wish to inform you that such is in truth my present state of mind, that I now write to you.