LETTER XVI.
TO E. HARTLEY.
New-York, May 2.
Ah! my friend! art thou so easily misled?
Does slander find in thee a dupe of her
most silly and extravagant contrivances? An
old nurse's envious and incoherent tale! At
second hand, too! With all the deductions and
embellishments which must cleave to every
story, as it passes through the imagination of
two gossips.
Art thou not ashamed of thyself, Edward?
To impute black pollution to the heart, whose
fortitude, whose purity, so many years of trial
have attested, on the authority of a crazy beldame,
repeating the malignant inferences, and
embellishing the stupid hints of an old nurse.
Sedley is a villain and a slanderer. Had
I been
present when he thought proper to blast the
fame of the innocent and absent, I should not
have controuled my indignation. I should
have cast the furious
lie in his teeth.
And is it possible, my friend, that on such
evidence as this, you build your belief that
Mary has become an abandoned creature! I
am ashamed of such credulity. She is in the
same city, you believe, yet sit idly in your
chamber, lamenting that depravity which exists
only in your fancy, and finding in such absurd
and groundless suspicions, a reason for withholding
that property which, whether she be
vile as dirt, or bright as heaven, is equally her
right.
Seek her out this moment. Never rest till
you have found her. Restore to her, her own
property; tender her your counsel; your aid.
Mention me to her as one extremely anxious
to cultivate her good opinion, and enjoy her
friendship. Do this, Edward, instantly, I exhort,
I intreat, I command you; and let me
know the result?
