LETTER XIX.
TO E. HARTLEY.
New-York, May 6.
Ah hah! give them to me. Two letters
at once. This is unexpected happiness.
Charming papers! Lie there and still the little
rebel, that will not allow me speech.
And thinkest thou my lips said this, as
my father threw thy letters into my lap? No
such thing. My heart was mutinous, 'tis true,
but no one present....there were many present
....was aware of its tumults, except, indeed,
my mother. Her observant eye saw what
was passing within. Or rather she guessed,
from the superscription, what I felt, and therefore,
considerately furnished me with an excuse
for retiring.
“Clara, my dear, I imagine your good woman
has come. I think I saw her go down the
steps. My friends will excuse you for a moment.”
I hastily withdrew; and then, Edward, having
gained the friendly covert of my chamber,
I eagerly, rapturously, kissed and read thy
letters.
I thought it would prove a mere slander;
and yet I was uneasy. The mere possibility
of its truth, shocked and distressed me, more
than I can tell; but thy intelligence has not
only removed the disquiet which thy foregoing
letter had produced, but, in reality, has
given me uncommon pleasure. I flatter myself
that your letter to Mrs. Valentine will
receive a speedy and satisfactory answer.
Human life, Edward, is a motley scene.
Thou wilt not thank me for the novelty of that
remark, but the truth of it I think has received
new illustration in the little incidents on
which thy last letters have commented. Had
not the old nurse's tale incited thee to inquiry,
thou would'st not, at this moment, have been
in the way to gain any knowledge of poor
Mary. Had not thy sad prognostics filled me
with melancholy, my mother's attention would
not have been excited to the cause of my uneasiness.
I did not conceal from her the cause. I
made her pretty well acquainted with the history
of Mary. She was deeply interested in
the story I told, and suggested many inquiries
respecting her, which I had overlooked.
She has made me extremely anxious as to
some particulars, on which perhaps you can
give me the desired information.
Pray tell me what you know of the history
of her family before her father's leaving Europe.
Where was he born? Where lived he?
What profession did he follow? What know
you of the history of Mary's mother?
Excuse me for confining myself, at present,
to these inquiries. Tell me all you
know on this subject, and I will then acquaint
you with the motive of my inquisitiveness.
I shall expect to hear from you, on Thursday
morning.
Adieu. Be careful of thyself, if thou lovest
thy
