University of Virginia Library

LETTER LXIV.

I HAVE arrived in safety, to the
mansion of our once happy and social friends.
But I cannot describe to you, how changed,
how greatly changed this amiable family appears
since I left it. Mrs. Wharton met me
at the door; and tenderly embracing, bade me
a cordial welcome. You are come, Julia, said
she, I hope, to revive and comfort us. We
have been very solitary during your absence.
I am happy madam, said I, to return; and
my endeavors to restore cheerfulness and
content, shall not be wanting. But, where is
Eliza? By this time we had reached the
back parlor, whither Mrs. Wharton led me;
and the door being open, I saw Eliza, reclined
on a settee, in a very thoughtful posture.
When I advanced to meet her, she never moved;
but sat “like patience on a monument,
smiling at grief!”

I stopped involuntarily, and involuntarily
raising my eyes to heaven, exclaimed, is that
Eliza Wharton! She burst into tears; and
attempted to rise, but sunk again into her
feat. Seeing her thus affected, I sat down by
her; and throwing my arm about her neck,
why these tears? said I. Why this distress,
my dear friend? Let not the return of your
Julia give you pain! She comes to sooth you
with the consolations of friendship! It is not
pain, said she, clasping me to her breast; it is
pleasure, too exquisite for my weak nerves to
bear! See you not, Julia, how I am altered?
Should you have known me for the sprightly
girl, who was always welcome at the haunts
of hilarity and mirth? Indeed, said I, you appear
indisposed, but I will be your physician.
Company, and change of air will, I doubt not,
restore you. Will these cure disorders of the
mind, Julia? They will have a powerful tendency
to remove them, if rightly applied; and
I profess considerable skill in that art. Come,
continued I, we will try these medicines in the
morning. Let us rise early, and step into the
chaise; and after riding a few miles, call and
breakfast with Mrs. Freeman. I have some
commissions from her daughter. We shall be
agreeably entertained there, you know.

Being summoned to supper, I took her by
the hand, and we walked into another room,
where we found her brother, and his wife,

with her mamma waiting for us. We were all
very chatty; even Eliza resumed, in a degree,
her former sociability. A settled gloom, notwithstanding,
brooded on her countenance;
and a deep sigh often escaped her, in spite of
her evident endeavors to suppress it. She
went to bed before us; when her mamma informed
me that her health had been declining
for some months, that she never complained,
but studiously concealed every symptom of indisposition.
Whether it were any real disorder
of body, or whether it arose from her depression
of spirits, she could not tell; but supposed
they operated together, and mutually
heightened each other.

I inquired after Major Sanford; whether
he and Eliza had associated together during
my absence? Sometimes, she said, they seemed
on good terms; and he frequently called
to see her; at others, they had very little, if
any correspondence at all. She told me that
Eliza never went abroad, and was very loath
to see company at home; that her chief amusement
consisted in solitary walks; that the
dreadful idea of her meeting Major Sanford in
these walks, had now and then intruded upon
her imagination; that she had not the least
evidence of the fact, however; and indeed,
was afraid to make any inquiries into the matter,
lest her own suspicions should be discovered;
that the major's character was worse than

ever; that he was much abroad, and frequently
entertained large parties of worthiess
bacchanalians at his house; that common report
said he treated his wife with indifference,
neglect, and ill nature; with many other circumstances,
which it is not material to relate.

Adieu, my dear friend, for the present.
When occasion requires, you shall hear again
from your affectionate