LETTER XVII.
TO CLARA HOWARD.
Philadelphia, May 4.
I have just returned from Germantown,
and find your letter on my table. Thank heaven,
I have not merited all your rebukes. That
anxiety to ascertain the truth, and that unwillingness
to trust to such witnesses as gossips
and nurses, which you think I ought to feel, I
really have felt. My last was written in the
first tumult of my thoughts. The moment I
laid down the pen, and began more deliberately
to reflect upon the subject, doubts and
hopes thronged into my imagination. I resolved
to bend every nerve to discover the
retreat of Mary, and ascertain her true situation.
As Sedley was so well known to Mrs.
Kalm, I resolved to visit that lady. I had no
acquaintance with her, but I overlooked the
impropriety of my application, and set out immediately
to Germantown.
Being admitted to an apartment in which
I found that lady alone, I introduced myself
in some confused way, I scarcely know how,
and inquired whether she knew the person
whom Sedley was about to marry, and whether
she could afford me any information of
the place where Mary Wilmot was likely to be
found.
She answered, with great civility, that Sedley's
sister was her dear friend; that Mrs.
Valentine resided, at this time, in New-England;
that her brother, passing lately through
this city, in order to join her, had spent part
of a day with Mr. Kalm; that Sedley had given
his friends leave to consider him as upon the
eve of marriage, but had not thought proper to
disclose to them the name and family of the
lady; that they were totally in the dark on both
these heads, but were inclined to believe that
she was a woman of Boston; that as to Mary
Wilmot, she knew nothing of her or her affairs.
Mrs. Kalm's curiosity was somewhat excited
by the singularity of my introduction,
and she soon became inquisitive in her turn.
Encouraged by her frank and communicative
humour, I ventured to explain, unreservedly,
the motive of my inquiries. She smiled at
the impression which the tale of the nurse and
gossip had made on my fears.
Your uneasiness, said she, was without any
foundation. Perhaps we might have jestingly
talked of Miss Wilmot's elopement with Sedley,
because his pretensions to that girl are
pretty well known; but I am not now to be told
that your friend was, on that journey, the companion,
not of the brother, but the sister, and
that Miss Wilmot's reputation and virtue,
could not be safer under her own guardianship
than under Mrs. Valentine's. Besides, there
is not a man in the world, of stricter principles
than Sedley. What you have heard, or something
like it, might actually have passed at that
dinner, but no one could have construed it in
a way injurious to Sedley or your friend, but
who was wholly unacquainted with the parties,
or who was very hungry after slander.
Sedley certainly talked as if he knew more
of Miss Wilmot than he just then thought fit
to disclose. What he said was accompanied
with nods and smiles of some significance;
but I should just as readily have put an evil
construction on his hints, had he been talking
of his own sister. All the world knows that
a woman of merit would be sure to receive
from Sedley, exactly the treatment which an
affectionate brother would be disposed to give.
As to Miss Wilmot's disappearance, I never
knew, till now, there was any thing mysterious
or suspicious in her conduct. It is true,
she left her former residence, but, considering
in whose company she left it, and the privacy
and solitude in which she had previously lived,
I was inclined to think she had risen into sight
and notice, and instead of retiring from observation,
had come forth more conspicuously
than ever. This was necessarily the case, if
she lived, or associated, as she probably did,
with Mrs. Valentine.
When Sedley talked of the cause of her
journey being removed, and her reassuming
her station among us, I confess he was unintelligible
to me. I knew of no cause for her
journey, but her own pleasure, and perhaps,
Mrs. Valentine's intreaties. The construction
which a casual hearer seems to have put upon
his words, was foolish and preposterous. Indeed,
it is highly offensive to me, since it presupposed
that I could patiently hear any one
utter such insinuations at my table.
Mrs. Kalm seemed much hurt at the misapprehensions
of the nurse, and was very
earnest in vindicating Sedley's innocence. She
bore testimony to the undeviating and exemplary
propriety of Miss Wilmot's conduct, ever
since it had been within the reach of her observation.
Thou wilt imagine, Clara, with what unspeakable
delight I listened to her eulogy. I
was astonished at my own folly, in drawing
such extravagant conclusions. My own heart
pleads guilty to thy charges of credulity and
precipitation, but I hope I shall not be so grossly
or so easily deceived a second time.
Mrs. Kalm could give me no account of
the present situation of my friend, but she gave
me Mrs. Valentine's address. From her, no
doubt, I shall be able to obtain all the information
I want. I was a stupid wretch, not
sooner to inquire among that lady's numerous
friends, where she was to be found. I will
write to her immediately.
Congratulate me, my beloved, on this opening
of brighter prospects for one who is equally
and deservedly dear to both of us. Unless
you make haste to write, I shall receive your
congratulations in person, for I feel myself,
already, well enough to travel, in your company,
to the world's end. Adieu.