LETTER XLVIII
TO MRS. LUCY SUMNER.
Hartford.
Health, placid serenity, and every
domestic pleasure, are the lot of my friend;
while I, who once possessed the means of each,
and the capacity of tasting them, have been
tossed upon the waves of folly, ti'l I am shipwrecked
on the shoals of despair!
Oh my friend, I am undone! I am slighted,
rejected by the man who once sought my hand,
by the man who still retains my heart! and
what adds an insupportable poignancy to the reflection,
is self-condemnation! From this inward
torture, where shall I flee? Where shall I
seek that happiness which I have madly trifled
away?
The inclosed letters,[1]
will show you whence
this tumult of soul arises. But I blame not Mr.
Boyer. He has acted nobly. I approve his
conduct, though it operates my ruin!
He is worthy of his intended bride, and she
is what I am not, worthy of him. Peace and
joy be their portion, both here and hereafter!
But what are now my prospects? what are to
be the future enjoyments of my life?
Oh that I had not written to Mr. Boyer!
by confessing my faults, and by avowing my
partiality to him, I have given him the power
of triumphing in my distress; of returning to
my tortured heart all the pangs of slighted love!
and what have I now to console me? my bloom
is decreasing; my health is sensibly impaired.
Those talents, with the possession of which I have
been flattered, will be of little avail when unsupported
by respectability of character!
My mamma, who knows too well the distraction
of my mind, endeavors to sooth and
compose me, on christian principles; but they
have not their desired effect. I dare not converse
freely with her on the subject of my present
uneasiness, lest I should distress her. I am
therefore, obliged to conceal my disquietude, and
appear as cheerful as possible in her company,
though my heart is ready to burst with grief!
Oh that you were near me, as formerly, to
share and alleviate my cares! to have some friend
in whom I could repose confidence, and with
whom I could freely converse, and advise, on
this occasion, would be an unspeakable comfort!
Such a one, next to yourself, I think Julia
Granby to be. With your leave and consent
I should esteem it a special favor if she would
come and spend a few months with me. My
mamma joins in this request. I would write
to her on the subject, but cannot compose myself
at present. Will you prefer my petition
for me?
If I have not forfeited your friendship, my
dear Mrs. Sumner, write to me, and pour its
healing balm into the wounded mind of your
Eliza Wharton.
