 | The coquette, or, The history of Eliza Wharton : a novel, founded on fact |  |
LETTER XXVI.
New-Haven.
I am perplexed and embarrassed, my
friend, by the assiduous attentions of this Major
Sanford. I shall write circumstantially, and
frankly to you, that I may have the benefit of
your advice. He came here, last Monday, in
company with Mr. Laurence, his wife, and
daughter, to make us a visit. While they were
present, a Mr. Selby, a particular friend of Mr.
Boyer, came in, and delivered me a letter from
him. I was really happy in the reception of this
proof of his affection. His friend gave a very
flattering account of his situation and prospects.
The watchful eye of Major Sanford traced
every word and action, respecting Mr. Boyer,
with an attention, which seemed to border on
anxiety. That, however, did not restrain, but
rather accellerate my vivacity and inquisitiveness
on the subject; for I wished to know
whether it would produce any real effect upon
him, or not.
After Mr. Selby's departure, he appeared pensive,
and thoughtful, the remainder of the
of speaking to me aside; which I studiously
avoided. Miss Laurence and I formed
an engagement to take an airing in the
morning on horseback; attended by a relation
of hers, who is now with them. They
called for me about ten, when we immediately
set out upon our preconcerted excursion. We
had not proceeded far, before we were met by
Major Sanford. He was extremely polite, and
finding our destination was not particular, begged
leave to join our party. This was granted,
and we had an agreeable tour for several miles;
the time being passed in easy, and unstudied remarks
upon obvious occurrences. Maj. Sanford
could not, however, conceal his particular attention
to me, which rather nettled Miss Laurence.
She grew somewhat serious, and declined
riding so far as we had intended; alledging
that she expected company to dine.
Major Sanford understanding that she was
going to the assembly in the evening with Mr.
Gordon, solicited me to accept a ticket and form
a party with them. The entertainment was
alluring, and I consented. When we had parted
with Miss Laurence, Major Sanford insisted
on my riding a little farther; saying, he must
converse with me on a particular subject; and
if I refused him this opportunity, that he must
visit me, at my residence, let it offend whom it
would. I yielded to his importunity; and we
rode on. He then told me that his mind was
very painful to bear; and which I only could
relieve; that my cheerful reception of Mr. Boyer's
letter, yesterday, and deportment respecting
him, had awakened in his breast all the pangs
of jealousy, which the most ardent love could
feel; that my treatment of Mr. Boyer's friend
convinced him that I was more interested in his
affairs than I was willing to own; that he foresaw
himself to be condemned to an eternal separation;
and the total loss of my favor and society,
as soon as time and circumstances would
allow.
His zeal, his pathos, alarmed me. I begged
him to be calm. To you, said I, as a friend,
I have intrusted my situation in relation to Mr.
Boyer. You know that I am under no special
obligation to him; and I do not intend to form
any immediate connection. Mr. Boyer must
have different ideas, madam; and he has reason
for them, if I may judge by appearances. When
do you expect another visit from him? In about
a fortnight. And is my fate to be then decided;
and so decided, as I fear it will be, through
the influence of your friends, if not by your
own inclination? My friends, sir, will not control;
they will only advise to what they think
most for my interest; and I hope, that my conduct
will not be unworthy of their approbation.
Pardon me, my dear Eliza, said he, if I am
impertinent; it is my regard for you which impels
me to the presumption. Do you intend to
to give my hand to any man at present. I
have but lately entered society; and wish, for
a while, to enjoy my freedom, in the participation
of pleasures, suited to my age and sex.
These, said he, you are aware, I suppose, when
you form a connection with that man, you must
renounce; and content yourself with a confinement
to the tedious round of domestic duties,
the pedantic conversation of scholars, and the invidious
criticisms of a whole town. I have
been accustomed, said I, and am therefore attached
to men of letters; and as to the praise
or censure of the populace, I hope always to
enjoy that approbation of conscience, which will
render me superior to both. But you forget
your promise, not to talk in this style; and
have deviated far from the character of a friend
and brother, with which you consented to
rest satisfied. Yes, but I find myself unequal
to the task. I am not stoic enough, tamely to
make so great a sacrifice. I must plead for an
interest in your favor, till you banish me from
your presence, and tell me plainly that you
hate me. We had by this time reached the
gate; and as we dismounted, were unexpectedly
accosted by Mr. Selby, who had come agreeably
to his promise, to dine with us, and receive
my letter to Mr. Boyer.
Major Sanford took his leave as General
Richman appeared at the door. The General
and his lady rallied me on my change of company;
of Major Sanford, while Mr. Selby was
present. Nothing material occurred before, and
during dinner; soon after which, Mr. Selby
went away. I retired to dress for the assembly;
and had nearly completed the labor of the toilet,
when Mrs. Richman entered. My friendship for
you, my dear Eliza, said she, interests me so
much in your affairs, that I cannot repress my
curiosity to know who has the honor of your
hand, this evening. If it be any honor, said I,
it will be confered on Major Sanford. I think
it far too great to be thus bestowed, returned
she. It is perfectly astonishing to me, that the
virtuous part of my sex will countenance, caress,
and encourage those men, whose profession it is
to blast their reputation, destroy their peace, and
triumph in their infamy! Is this, madam, the
avowed design of Major Sanford? I know not
what he avows; but his practice too plainly
bespeaks his principles and views. Does he
now practice the arts you mention; or do you
refer to past follies? I cannot answer for his
present conduct; his past has established his
character. You, madam, are an advocate for
charity; that, perhaps, if exercised in this instance
might lead you to think it possible for
him to reform; to become a valuable member
of society; and, when connected with a lady of
virtue and refinement, to be capable of making
a good husband. I cannot conceive that such a
lady would be willing to risk her all upon the
slender prospect of his reformation. I hope the
to so hazardous, an experiment. Why,
not much. Not much! If you have any, why
do you continue to encourage Mr. Boyer's addresses?
I am not sufficiently acquainted with
either yet, to determine which to take. At present,
I shall not confine myself in any way. In
regard to these men, my fancy and my judgment
are in scales. Sometimes one preponderates,
sometimes the other. Which will finally
outweigh, time alone can reveal. O my cousin,
beware of the delusions of fancy! Reason must be
our guide, if we would expect durable happiness.
At this instant a servant opened the
door, and told me that Major Sanford waited in
the parlor. Being ready, I wished Mrs. Richman
a good evening, and went down. Neither
General Richman nor his lady appeared. He
therefore handed me immediately into his phaeton,
and we were soon in the assembly room.
I was surprised, on my entrance, to find Mr.
Selby there, as he did not mention, at dinner, his
intention of going. He attached himself to our
party; and, in the intervals of dancing, took every
opportunity of conversing with me. These,
however, were not many; for Major Sanford
assiduously precluded the possibility of my being
much engaged by any one else. We passed the
evening very agreeably; but the Major's importunity
was rather troublesome, as we returned
home. He insisted upon my declaring whether
Mr. Boyer really possessed my affections; and
whether I intended to confer myself on him or
I must despair; but if you have not absolutely
decided against me, I will still hope, that
my persevering assiduity, my faithful love, may
at last be rewarded. I told him that I was under
no obligation to give him any account of
my disposition towards another; and that he
must remember the terms of our present association,
to which he had subscribed. I therefore
begged him to wave the subject now, if not
forever. He asked my pardon, if he had been
impertinent; but desired leave to renew his request,
that I would receive his visits, his friendly
visits. I replied, that I could not grant this;
and that he must blame himself, not me, if he
was an unwelcome guest at General Richman's.
He lamented the prejudices which my friends
had imbibed against him; but flattered himself
that I was more liberal than to be influenced by
them, without any positive proof of demerit; as
it was impossible that his conduct towards me
should ever deviate from the strictest rules of
honor and love.
What shall I say now, my friend? This man,
to an agreeable person has superadded, graceful
manners, an amiable temper, and a fortune
sufficient to ensure the enjoyments of all the
pleasing varieties of social life. Perhaps a gay
disposition, and a lax education may have betrayed
him into some scenes of dissipation. But
is it not an adage generally received, that “a
reformed rake makes the best husband?” My
fancy leads me for happiness to the festive
know not but I ever shall be, too volatile for a
confinement to domestic avocations, and sedentary
pleasures. I dare not, therefore, place myself
in a situation where these must be indispensable.
Mr. Boyer's person, and character are
agreeable. I really esteem the man. My reason
and judgment, as I have observed before,
declare for a connection with him, as a state of
tranquillity and rational happiness. But the
idea of relinquishing those delightful amusements
and flattering attentions, which wealth and equipage
bestow, is painful. Why were not
the virtues of the one, and the graces and affluence
of the other combined? I should then have
been happy indeed! But, as the case now stands,
I am loath to give up either; being doubtful
which will conduce most to my felicity.
Pray write me impartially; let me know
your real sentiments, for I rely greatly upon
your opinion. I am, &c.
| The coquette, or, The history of Eliza Wharton : a novel, founded on fact | |