LETTER XLII.
To Mrs. Fielder.
Baltimore, Dec. 5.
Madam,
I pretend not to be raised above any of the infirmities
of human nature, but am too sensible
of the errors of my past conduct, and the defects
which will ever cleave to my character, to be
either surprised or indignant at the disapprobation
of a virtuous mind. So far from harbouring
resentment against you, it is with reluctance
I decline the acceptance of your bill. I cannot
consider it in any other light than as an alms
which my situation is far from making necessary,
and by receiving which I should defraud those
whose poverty may plead a superior title.
I hasten to give you pleasure by informing
you of my intention to leave America immediately.
My destiny is far from being certain,
but, at present, I both desire and expect never
to re visit my native land.
I design not to solicit another interview with
Mrs. Talbot. You dissuade me from making any
reply to her letter, from the fear, no doubt,
that my influence will be exerted to change her
resolution. Dismiss, I entreat you, madam, every
apprehension of that kind. Your daughter
has deliberately made her election. If no advantage
be taken of her tenderness and pity,
she will be happy in her new scheme. Shall I,
who pretend to love her, subject her to new
trials and mortifications? Am I able to reward
her, by my affection, for the loss of every other
comfort. What can I say in favour of my own
attachment to her, which may not be urged in
favour of her attachment to her mother. The
happiness of one or other must be sacrificed,
and shall I not rather offer, than demand the
sacrifice! and how poor and selfish should I be
if I did not strive to lessen the difficulties of her
choice, and persuade her that in gratifying her
mother, she inflicts no lasting misery on me?
I regard in its true light, what you say with
respect to reconcilement with my father, and
am always ready to comply with your wishes in
the only way that a conviction of my own rectitude
will permit. I have patiently endured revilings
and blows, but I shall not needlessly expose
myself to new insults. Though willing to
accept apology and grant an oblivion of the past,
I will never avow a penitence which I do not feel,
or confess that I deserved the treatment I received.
Truly can I affirm that your daughter's happiness
is of all earthly things moft dear to me.
I fervently thank Heaven that I leave her exempt
from all the hardships of poverty, and in
the bosom of one who will guard her safety with
a zeal equal to my own. All that I fear is, that
your efforts to console her will fail. I know the
heart, which, if you thought me worthy of the
honour, I should account it my supreme felicity
to call mine. Let it be a precious deposit in your
hands.
And now, Madam, permit me to conclude
with a solemn blessing on your head, and on
her's, and with an eternal farewell to you both.
