LETTER XVI.
O MY lost child! In thy humiliations at this
moment I can sympathize. The shame that
must follow the detection of it is more within
my thoughts at present, than the negligence
or infatuation that occasioned thy faults.
I know all. Thy intended husband knew it
all. It was from him that the horrible tidings
of thy unfaithfulness to marriage vows first came.
He visited this city on purpose to obtain an
interview with me. He entered my apartment
with every mark of distress. He knew well the
effect of such tidings on my heart. Most eagerly
would I have laid down my life to preserve
thy purity spotless.
He demeaned himself as one who loved thee,
with a rational affection, and who, however
deeply he deplored the loss of thy love, accounted
thy defection from virtue of infinitely greater
moment.
I was willing to discredit even his assertion.
Far better it was that the husband should prove
the defamer of his wife, than that my darling child
should prove a profligate? but he left me no
room to doubt by shewing me a letter
He shewed it me on condition of my being everlastingly
silent to you in regard to its contents.
He yielded to a jealousy which would
not be conquered, and had gotten this letter by
surreptitious means. He was ashamed of an
action which his judgment condemned as ignoble
and deceitful.
Far more wise and considerate was this excellent
and injured man than I. He was afraid,
by disclosing to you the knowledge he had thus
gained, of rendering you desperate and hardened.
As long as reputation was not gone, he
thought your errors were retrievable. He distrusted
the success of his own efforts, and besought
me to be your guardian: As to himself
he resigned the hope of even gaining your love,
and entreated me to exert myself for dissolving
your connection with Colden, merely for your
own sake.
To show me the necessity of my exertions
he had communicated this letter, believing
that my maternal interest in your happiness,
would prevent me from making any but a salutary
use of it. Yet he had not put your safety
into my hands, without a surety. He was so
fully persuaded of the ill consequences of your
knowing how much was known, that he had
given me the proofs of your guilt, only on my
solemn promise to conceal them from you.
I saw the generosity and force of his representations,
and while I endeavoured by the
most earnest remonstrances, to break your union
with Colden, I suffered no particle of the
truth to escape me. But you were hard as a
rock. You would not forbid his visits, nor reject
his letters.
I need not repeat to you what followed; by what
means I endeavoured to effect that end, which
your obstinate folly refused.
When I gave this promise to Talbot, I foresaw
not his speedy death and the consequences
to Colden and yourself. I have been affrighted
at the rumour of your marriage, and to justify
the conduct I mean to pursue, I have revealed
to you, what I promised to conceal, merely because
I foresaw not the present state of your
affairs.
You will not be surprised that on your marriage
with this man, I should withdraw from
you what you now hold from my bounty. No
faultiness in you shall induce me to leave you without
the means of decent subsistence, but I owe
no benevolence to Colden. My duty will not
permit me to give any thing to your paramour.
When you change your name you must change
your habitation and leave behind you whatever
you found.
Think not, Jane, that I cease to love thee.
I am not so inhuman as to refuse my forgiveness
to a penitent; yet I ask not thy penitence
to insure thee my affection. I have told thee
my conditions and adhere to them still.
To preclude all bickerings and cavils, I enclose
the letter which attests your fall.
