University of Virginia Library

LETTER III.

I am glad I left not word how soon I meant
to return, for here has been, it seems, during
my short absence, a pair of gossips. They
have just gone, lamenting the disappointment,
and leaving me a world of complimentary condolances.

I shall take care to prevent future interruption
by shutting up the house and retiring to my
chamber, where I am resolved to remain till I
have fully disburthened my heart. Disburthen
it, said I? I shall load it, I fear, with sadness,
but I will not regret an undertaking which my
duty to you makes indispensible.

One of the earliest incidents that I remember,
is an expostulation with my father. I saw

several strange people enter the chamber where
my mother was. Somewhat suggested to my
childish fancy that these strangers meant to
take her away, and that I should never see her
again. My terror was violent, and I thought of
nothing but seizing her gown or hand, and
holding her back from the rude assailants. My
father detained me in his arms, and endeavoured
to soothe my fears, but I would not be appeased.
I struggled and shrieked, and, hearing
some movements in my mothers room, that
seemed to betoken the violence I so much
dreaded, I leaped, with a sudden effort from
my father's arms, but fainted before I reached
the door of the room.

This may serve as a specimen of the impetuosity
of my temper. It was always fervent
and unruly; unacquainted with moderation in
its attachments, violent in its indignation, and
its enmity, but easily persuaded to pity and forgiveness.

When I recovered from my swoon, I ran to
my mother's room, but she was gone. I rent
the air with my cries, and shocked all about
me with importunities to know whither they
had carried her. They had carried her to the
grave, and nothing would content me, but to
visit the spot three or four times a day, and to
sit in the room in which she died, in stupid
and mopeful silence all night long.

At this time I was only five years old, an
age at which, in general, a deceased parent is
quickly forgotten; but, in my attachment to my
mother, I shewed none of the volatility of childhood.
While she livid, I was never at ease but

when seated at her knee, or with my arms
round her neck. When dead, I cherished her
remembrance for years, and have paid, hundreds
of times, the tribute of my tears at the foot of
her grave.

My brother, who was three years older than
myself, behaved in a very different manner. I
used to think the difference between us was
merely that of sex; that every boy was boisterous,
ungrateful, imperious, and inhuman, as
every girl was soft, pliant, affectionate. Time
has cured me of that mistake, and as it has
shewn me females, unfeeling and perverse, so
it has introduced me to men full of gentleness
and sensibility. My brother's subsequent conduct
convinced me that he was at all times,
selfish and irascible beyond most other men,
and that his ingratitude and insolence to his
mother were only congenial parts of the character
he afterwards displayed at large.

My brother and I, passed our infancy in one
unintermitted quarrel. We were never together,
but he played some cruel and mischievous
prank, which I never failed to resent
to the utmost of my little power. I soon found
that my tears only increased his exultation,
and my complaints only grieved my mother. I,
therefore, gave word for word and blow for
blow, but being always worsted in such conflicts
I shunned him whenever it was possible, and
whatever his malice made me suffer, I endeavoured
to conceal it from her.

My mother, on her death-bed, was anxious
to see him, but he had strolled away after
some boyish amusement, with companions as

thoughtless as himself. The news of her death
scarcely produced an hour's seriousness. He
made my affliction a topic of sarcasm and contempt.

To soften my grief, my father consented to
my living under the care of her whom I now
call my mother. Mrs. Fielder was merely the
intimate from childhood of my own mother,
with whom, however, since her marriage, contracted
against Mrs. Fielder's inclination and
remonstrances, she had maintained but little
intercourse. My mother's sudden death and
my helpless age, awakened all her early tenderness,
and induced her to offer an asylum to
me. Having a considerable fortune and no
family, her offer, notwithstanding ancient
jealousies, was readily accepted by my father.

My new residence was, in many respects,
the reverse of my former one. The treatment
I received from my new parent, without erasing
the memory of the old one, quickly excited
emotions as filial and tender as I had ever experienced.
Comfort and quiet, peace and harmony,
obsequious and affectionate attendants
and companions, I had never been accustomed
to under the paternal roof.

From this period till I was nearly sixteen
years of age, I merely paid occasional visits to
my father. He loved me with as much
warmth as his nature was capable of feeling,
which I repaid him in gratitude and reverence.
I never remitted my attention to his affairs,
and studied his security and comfort as far as
these were within my power.

My brother was not deficient in talents, but
he wanted application. Very early he shewed

strong propensities to active amusements and
sensual pleasures. The school and college were
little attended to, and the time that ought to
have been appropriated to books and study, was
wasted in frolics and carousals. As soon as he
was able to manage a gun and a horse, they
were procured, and these and the company to
which they introduced him, afforded employment
for all his attention and time.

My father had devoted his early years to
the indefatigable pursuit of gain. He was
frugal and abstemious, though not covetous,
and amassed a large property. This property
he intended to divide between his two children
and to secure my portion to his nephew, whom
his parents had left an orphan in his infancy,
and whom my father had taken and treated as
his own child by marrying him to me. This nephew
passed his childhood among us. His temper
being more generous than my brother's, and
being taught mutually to regard each other as
destined to a future union, our intercourse was
cordial and affectionate.

We parted at an age at which nothing like
passion could be felt. He went to Europe, in
circumstances very favourable to his improvement,
leaving behind him the expectation of
his returning in a few years. Meanwhile, my
father was anxious that we should regard each
other, and maintain a correspondence as persons
betrothed. In persons at our age, this
scheme was chimerical. As soon as I acquired
the power of reflection, I perceived the folly of
such premature bonds, and though I did not
openly oppose my father's wishes, held myself

entirely free to obey any new impulse
which circumstances might produce. My
mother, so let me still call Mrs. Fielder, fully
concurred in my views.

You are acquainted, my friend, with many
events of my early life. Most of those not connected
with my father and his nephew, I have
often related. At present, therefore, I shall
omit all collateral and contemporary incidents,
and confine myself entirely to those connected
with these two persons.

My father, on the death of his wife, retired
from business, and took a house in an airy
and secluded situation. His household consisted
of an house keeper, and two or three
servants, and apartments were always open for
his son.

My brother's temper grew more unmanageable
as he increased in years. My father's
views with regard to him were such as parental
foresight and discretion commonly dictate.
He wished him to acquire all possible advantages
of education, and then to betake himself
to some liberal profession, in which he might
obtain honor as well as riches. This sober
scheme by no means suited the restless temper
of the youth. It was his maxim that all restraints
were unworthy of a lad of spirit, and
that it was far more wise to spend freely what
his father had painfully acquired, than by
the same plodding and toilsome arts, to add to
the heap.

I scarcely know how to describe my feelings
in relation to this young man. My affection
for him was certainly without that tenderness

which a good brother is sure to excite: I do
not remember a single direct kindness that I
ever received from him, but I remember innumerable
ill offices and contempts. Still there
was some inexplicable charm in the mere tie of
kindred, which made me more deplore his
errors, exult in his talents, rejoice in his success,
and take a deeper interest in his concerns
than in those of any other person.

As he advanced in age, I had new cause for
my zeal in his behalf. My father's temper was
easy and flexible: my brother was at once vehement
and artful. Frank's arguments and
upbraidings created in his father an unnatural
awe, an apprehension and diffidence in thwarting
his wishes and giving advice which usually
distinguish the filial character. The youth
perceived his advantages, and employed them
in carrying every point on which his inclination
was set.

For a long time this absurd indulgence was
shewn in allowing his son to employ his time
as he pleased: in refraining from all animadversions
on his idleness and dissipation, and
supplying him with a generous allowance of
pocket money. This allowance required now
and then to be increased. Every year and
every month, by adding new sources of expense,
added something to the stipend.

My father's revenue was adequate to a very
splendid establishment, but he was accustomed
to live frugally, and thought it wise to add
his savings to the principal of his estate. These
savings gradually grew less and less, till at
length my brother's numerous excursions, a

French girl whom he maintained in expensive
lodgings, his horses, dogs, and friends, consumed
the whole of it.

I never met my brother but by accident.
These interviews were, for the most part, momentary,
either in the street or at my father's
house, but I was too much interested in all that
befel him, not to make myself, by various
means, thoroughly acquainted with his situation.

I had no power to remedy the evil, as my
elder brother and as a man he thought himself
entitled to govern and despise me. He always
treated me as a frivolous girl, with whom it
was waste of time to converse, and never spoke
to me at all except to direct or admonish.
Hence I could do nothing but regret his
habits. Their consequences to himself it was
beyond my power to prevent.

For a long time I was totally unaware of the
tendencies of this mode of life. I did not
suspect that my brother's passions would carry
him beyond the bound of vulgar prudence, or
induce him to encroach on those funds, from
which his present enjoyments were derived. I
knew him to be endowed with an acute understanding,
and imagined that this would point
out, with sufficient clearness, the wisdom of
limiting his expences to his income.

In my daily conversations with my father, I
never voluntarily introduced Frank as our
topic, unless by the harmless and trite questions
of “when was he here?” “where has he
gone?” and the like. We met only by accident,
at his lodgings: when I entered the room

where he was, he never thought of bestowing
more than a transient look on me, just to
know who it was that approached. Circumstances,
at length, however, occurred, which
put an end to this state of neutrality.

I heard, twice or thrice a year, from my cousin
Risberg. One day a letter arrived in which
he obscurely intimated that the failure of remittances
from my father, for more than half a year,
had reduced him to great distress. My father
had always taught him to regard himself as entitled
to all the privileges of a son; had sent him
to Europe, under express conditions of supplying
him with a reasonable stipend, till he should
come of age, at which period it was concerted
that Risberg should return and receive a portion
with me, enabling him to inter advantageously
on the profession of the law, to which he
was now training. This stipend was far from being
extravagant; or more than sufficient for
the decent maintenance of a student at the temple,
and Risberg's conduct had always been represented
by those under whose eye he had been
placed, as regular and exemplary.

This intimation surprised me a good deal, I
could easily imagine the embarrassments to
which a failure of this kind must subject a generous
spirit, and thought it my duty to remove
them as soon as possible. I supposed that some
miscarriage or delay had happened to the money
and that my father would instantly rectify any
error or supply any deficiency. I hastened, therefore,
to his house, with the opened letter. I found
him alone and immediately shewed him that page
of the letter which related to this affair. I anxiously
watched his looks while he read it.

I observed marks of great surprise in his
countenance, and as soon as he laid down the
Letter I began to expatiate on the inconveniences
which Risberg had suffered. He listened
to me, in gloomy silence, and when I had done,
made no answer but by a deep sigh and downcast
look.

Pray, dear sir, continued I, what could have
happened to the money which you sent. You
had not heard, I suppose, of its miscarriage.

No, I had not heard of it before. I will look
into it and see what can be done. Here further
conversation was suspended by a visitant. I
waited with impatience till the guest had retired,
but he had scarcely left the room when my
brother entered. I supposed my father would
have immediately introduced this subject, and
as my brother usually represented him in every
affair of business, and could of course throw some
light upon the present mystery, I saw no reason
why I should be excluded from a coference
in which I had some interest, and was,
therefore, somewhat surprised when my father
told me he had no need of my company for the
rest of the day, and wished to be alone with
Francis. I rose, instantly to depart, but said,
pray, sir, tell my brother what has happened.
Perhaps he can explain the mystery.

What, cryed my Brother, with a laugh, has
thy silly brain ingendered a mystery which I am
to solve? Thou mayest save thyself the trouble
of telling me, for, really, I have no time to
throw away on thee or thy mysteries.

There was always something in my brother's
raillery which my infirm soul could never support,
I ought always to have listened and replied

without emotion, but a fluttering indignation
usually deprived me of utterance. I found my best
expedient was flight, when I could fly, and silence
when obliged to remain; I therefore, made
no answer to this speech, but hastily withdrew.

Next morning earlier than usual, I went to
my father. He was thoughtful and melancholy.
I introduced the subject that was nearest my
heart, but he answered me reluctantly, and in general
terms, that he had examined the affair,
and would take the necessary measures.

But dear sir, said I, how did it happen? How
did the money miscarry?

Never mind, said he, a little peevishly, we shall
see things put to rights, I tell you, and let that
satisfy you.

I am glad of it. Poor fellow! Young, generous,
disdaining obligation, never knowing the
want of money, how must he have felt on being
left quite destitute, penniless, running in arrear
for absolute necessaries: in debt to a good woman
who lived by letting lodgings, and who dunned
him after so long a delay, in so indirect and
delicate a manner—What must he have suffered,
accustomed to regard you as a father, and
knowing you had no personal calls for your
large revenue, and being so solemnly enjoined
by you not to stint himself in any rational
pleasure, for you would be always ready to exceed
your stated remittances, when there
should be just occasion. Poor fellow! my heart
bleeds for him. But how long will it be before
he hears from you? his letter is dated seven
weeks ago. It will be another six or eight
weeks before he receives an answer, at least

three months in all, and during all this time
he will be without money. But perhaps he will
receive it sooner.

My father frequently changed countenance,
and shewed great solicitude. I did not wonder
at this, as Risberg had always been loved as a
son. A little consideration therefore ought to
have shewed me the impropriety of thus
descanting on an evil without remedy: yet I
still persisted; at length, I asked to what causes
I might ascribe his former disappointments,
in the letter to Risberg, which I proposed
writing immediately.

This question threw him into much confusion.
At last he said, peevishly, “I wish, Jane,
you would leave these matters to me, I don't
like your interferance.”

This rebuke astonished me. I had sufficient
discernment to suspect something extraordinary,
but was for a few minutes quite puzzled
and confounded. He had generally treated me
with tenderness and even deferance, and I saw
nothing peculiarly petulent or improper in
what I had said.

“Dear sir, forgive me, you know I write to
my cousin, and as he stated his complaint to
me, it will be natural to allude to them in my
answer to his letter, but I will only tell him
that all difficulties are removed, and refer him
to your letter for further satisfaction; for you
will no doubt write to him.”

I wish you would drop the subject. If you
write, you may tell him—but tell him what
you please, or rather it would be best to say
nothing on the subject—but drop the subject I
beseech you.

Certainly, if the subject displeases you, I
will drop it.—Here a pause of mutual embarrasment
succeeded, which was, at length
broken by my father.

I will speak to you to-morrow, Jane, on this
subject. I grant your curiosity is natural, and
will then gratify it. To-morrow, I may possibly
explain why Risberg has not received what, I
must own, he had a right to expect. We'll
think no more of it at present, but play a game
at draughts.

I was impatient, you may be sure, to have a
second meeting. Next day my father's embarrassment
and perplexity was very evident. It
was plain that he had not forgot the promised
explanation, but that something made it a very
irksome task. I did not suffer matters to remain
long in suspense, but asked him in direct
terms what had caused the failure of
which my cousin complained, and whether he
was hereafter to receive the stipulated allowance?

He answered hesitatingly and with downcast
eyes—why—he did not know. He was sorry. It
had not been his fault. To say truth, Francis
had received the usual sums to purchase the
bills. Till yesterday, he imagined they had
actually been purchased and sent. He always
understood them to have been so from Francis.
He had mentioned, after seeing Risberg's complaining
letter, he had mentioned the affair to
Francis. Francis had confessed that he had
never sent the bills. His own necessities compelled
him to apply the money given him
for this purpose to his own use. To be
sure, Risberg was his nephew; had always

depended on him for his maintenance, but
some how or another the wants of Francis had
increased very much of late years, and swallowed
up all that he could rap and rend without
encroaching on his principal. Risberg was
but his nephew, Frank was his own and only son.
To be sure, he once thought that he had enough
for his three children, but times, it seems, were
altered. He did not spend on his own wants more
than he used to do; but Frank's expenses were
very great and swallowed up every thing. To
be sure he pitied the young man, but he was
enterprising and industrious, and could, no
doubt, shift for himself; yet he would be quite
willing to assist him, were it in his power, but
really it was no longer in his power.

I was, for a time, at a loss for words to express
my surprise and indignation at my brother's
unfeeling selfishness. I could no longer maintain
my usual silence on his conduct, but inveighed
against it, as soon as I could find
breath, with the utmost acrimony.

My father was embarrassed, confounded,
grieved. He sighed and even wept.—Francis,
said he, at last, to be sure has not acted quite
right. But what can be done? Is he not my
child, and if he has faults, is he altogether without
virtue? No, if he did not find a lenitent and
forgiving judge in me, his father, in whom could
he look for one. Besides the thing is done, and
therefore without remedy. This year's income
nearly exhausted, and I really fear before another
quarter comes round, I shall want myself.

I again described in as strong and affecting
terms as I could, Risbergs' expectations and

disappointment, and insinuated to him, that, in a
case like this, there could be no impropriety in
selling a few shares of his bank stock.

This hint was extremely displeasing, but I urged
him so vehemently that he said, Francis
will perhaps consent to it; I will try him this
evening.

Alas! said I, my brother will never consent
to such a measure. If he has found occafion
for the money you had designed for my poor
cousin, and of all your current income, his necessities
will not fail to lay hold of this.

Very true, (glad, it seemed of an excuse for
not thwarting his son's will,) Frank will never
consent. So you see, it will be impossible to
do any thing.

I was going to propose that he should execute
this business without my brother's knowledge,
but instantly perceived the impossibility of that.
My father had for some years devolved on his
son the management of all his affairs, and habit
had made him no longer qualified to act for
himself. Frank's opinion of what was proper
to be done, was infallible, and absolute in all
cases.

I returned home with a very sad heart. I was
deeply afflicted with this new instance of my
brother's selfishness and of my father's infatuation—poor
Risberg! faid I, what will become of
thee. I love thee as my brother. I feel for thy
distresses. Would to heaven I could remove
them. And cannot I remove them? As to contending
with my brother's haughtiness in thy
favour, that is an hopeless task. As to my father,
he will never fubmit to my guidance.

After much fruitless meditation, it occurred
to me that I might supply Risberg's wants from
my own purse. My mother's indulgence to me
was without bounds. She openly considered and
reprefented me as the heiress of her fortunes,
and confided fully in my difcretion. The chief
ufes I had hitherto found for money were charitable
ones. I was her almoner. To stand in the
place of my father, with respect to Risberg, and
supply his customary stipend from my own
purse, was an adventrous undertaking for a young
creature like me. It was impossible to do this
clandestinely; at leaft, without the knowledge
and consent of Mrs. Fielder. I therefore resolved
to declare what had happened, and request
her counsel. An opportunity suitable to this did
not immediately offer.

Next morning, as I was sitting alone in the
parlour, at work, my brother came in. Never before
had I received a visit from him. My furprife,
therefore, was not fmall. I started up with
the confusion of a stranger, and requested him,
very formally, to be feated.

I instantly saw in his looks marks of displeasure,
and though unconscious of meriting it, my
trepidation increased. He took a seat without
speaking, and after some pause addressed me
thus.

So girl, I hear you have been meddling with
things that do not concern you; sowing dissention
between the old man and me; presuming
to dictate to us how we are to manage our own
property. He retailed to me, last night, a parcel
of impertinence with which you had been
teazing him about, this traveller Risberg, assuming,

long before your time, the province of
his care-taker. Why, do you think, continued
he, contemptuously, he'll ever return to marry
you? Take my word for't, he's no such fool. I
know that he never will.

The infirmity of my temper, has been a subject
of eternal regret to me; yet it never displayed
itself with much force, except under the
lash of my brother's sarcasms. My indignation
on those occasions had a strange mixture of fear
in it, and both together suffocated my speech.
I made no answer to this boistrous arrogance.

But come, continued he, pray let us hear
your very wise objections to a man's applying
his own property to his own use. To rob himself,
and spend the spoil upon another is thy
sage maxim, it seems, for which, thou deservest
to be dubbed a she Solomon, but let's see if thou
art as cunning in defending as in coining maxims.
Come, there is a chair; lay it on the
floor, and suppose it a bar or rostrum, which
thou wilt, and stand behind it, and plead the
cause of foolish prodigality against common
sense.

I endeavoured to muster up a little spirit,
and replied, I could not plead before a more
favourable judge. An appeal to my brother
on behalf of foolish prodigality, could hardly
fail of success. Poor common sense must look
for justice at some other tribunal.

His eyes darted fire. Come, girl, none of
your insolence. I did not come here to be insulted.

No, you rather came to commit than receive
an insult.

Paltry distinguisher! to jest with you, and
not chide you for your folly, is to insult you, is
it? Leave off romance, and stick to common
sense, and you will never receive any thing but
kindness from me. But come, if I must humour
you, let me hear how you have found yourself
out to be wiser than your father and brother.

I do not imagine, brother, any good will result
frem our discussing this subject. Education,
or sex, if you please, has made a difference
in our judgments, which argument will never
reconcile.

With all my heart. A truce everlasting let
there be, but in truth, I merely came to caution
you against intermeddling in my affairs, to
tell you to beware of sowing jealousy and ill
will between the old man and me. Prate away
on other subjects as much as you please, but on
this affair of Risberg's, hold your tongue for
the future.

I thank you for your brotherly advice, but I
am afraid I never shall bring myself to part with
the liberty of prating on every subject that
pleases me: at least, my forbearance will flow
from my own discretion, and not from the imperious
prohibition of another.

He laughed. Well said, oddity. I am not
displeased to see you act with some spirit: but
I repeat my charge: be quiet. Your interferance
will do no good.

Indeed, I firmly believe that it will not; and
that will be a motive for my silence, that shall
always have its due weight within me. Risberg,
I see, must look elsewhere for a father and a
brother.

Poor thing! do; put its finger in its eye and
weep. Ha! ha! ha! poor Risberg! how would
he laught to see these compassionate tears. It
seems he has written in a very doleful strain to
thee: talked very pathetically about his debts,
to his laundress and his landlady. I have a
good mind to leave thee in this amiable ignorance,
but I'll prove for once a kind brother,
by telling you that Risberg is a profligate and
prodigal; that he neglects every study, but
that of dice: that this is the true reason why
I have stood in the way of the old man's bounty
to him. I have unquestionable proofs of his
worthlessness, and see no reason to throw away
money upon London prostitutes and gamblers.
I never mentioned this to the old man, because
I would not needlessly distress him, for I
know he loves Jack at least as well as his own
children. I tell it you to justify my conduct,
and hope that I may for once trust to your
good sense not to disclose it to your father.

My heart could not restrain its indignation
at these words.

'Tis false, I exclaimed, 'tis an horrid calumny
against one who cannot defend himself; I will
never believe the depravity of my absent
brother, till I have as good proof of it, as my
present brother has given me of his.

Bravo! my girl, who could have thought
you could give the lie with such a grace? why
don't you spit in the face of the vile calumnia
tor?—But I am not angry with you, Jane: I
only pity you: yet I'll not leave you before I
tell you my mind. I have no doubt Risberg
means to return. He knows on what footing

you are with Mrs. Fielder, and will take care
to return; but, mind me; Jane, you shall never
throw yourself and your fortune away upon
Risberg, while I have a voice or an arm to
prevent it; and now—good bye to you.

So ended this conversation. He left me in
an hurry and confusion of spirits not to be described.
For a time I felt nothing but indignation
and abhorrence for what, I thought, a
wicked and cruel calumny, but in proportion
as I regained my tranquillity, my reflections
changed. Did not my brother speak truth?
Was there not something in his manner very
different from those of an impostor? How unmoved
was he by the doubts which I ventured to
insinuate of his truth? Alas! I fear 'tis too true.

I told you before that we parted at an age
when love could not be supposed to exist between
us. If I know myself, I felt no more for
him than for a mere brother; but then I felt
all the solicitude and tenderness of a sister. I
knew scarcely how to act in my present situation;
but at length determined to disclose the
whole affair to my mother. With her approbation
I enclosed an order on a London merchant
in a letter to this effect:

“I read your letter, my friend, with the sentiments
of one who is anxious for your happiness.
The difficulties you describe, will, I am afraid,
be hereafter prevented only by your own industry.
My father's and brother's expenses consume
the whole of that income in which you have
hitherto had a share, and I am obliged to apprize
you that the usual remittances will no longer be
made. You are now advancing to manhood, and,

I hope will soon be able to subsist upon the fruits
of your own learning and industry.

“I have something more to say to your, which
I scarcely know how to communicate. Somebody
here has loaded your character with very
heavy imputations. You are said to be addicted
to gaming, sensuality and the lowest vices. How
much grief this intelligence has given to all who
love you, you will easily imagine. To find you
innocent of these charges would free my heart
from the keenest solicitude it has hitherto felt.
I leave to you the proper means of doing this,
if you can do it, without violation of truth.

“I am very imperfectly acquainted with your
present views. You originally designed, after
having compleated your academical and legal
education, to return to America. If this should
still be your intention, the enclosed will obviate
some of your pecuniary embarrassments, and
my mother enjoins me to tell you that, as you
may need a few months longer to make the necessary
preparations for returning, you may
draw on her for an additional sum of five hundred
dollars. Adieu.”

My relation to Risberg was peculiarly delicate.
His more lively imagination had deceived him
already into belief that he was in love. At least,
in all his letters, he seemed fond of recognizing
that engagement which my father had established
between us, and exaggerated the importance to
his happiness of my regard. Experience had
already taught me to set their just value on such
professions. I knew that men are sanguine and
confident, and that the imaginary gracefulnefs
of passion naturally prompts them to make their

words outstrip their feelings. Though eager in
their present course, it is easy to divert them
from it, and most men of an ardent temper can
be dying of love for half a dozen different women
in the course of a year.

Women feel deeply, but boast not. The supposed
indecency of forwardness makes their
words generally fall short of their sentiments,
and passion, when once thoroughly imbibed, is
as hard to be escaped from, as it was difficultly
acquired. I felt no passion, and endeavoured
not to feel any for Risberg, till circumstances
should make it proper and discreet. My attachment
was to his interest, his happiness, and not
to his person, and to convince him of this, was
extremely difficult. To persuade him that his
freedom was absolute and entire: that no tie of
honour or compassion bound him to me, but that
on the contrary, to dispose of his affections elsewhere,
would probably be most conductive to the
interest of both.

These cautious proceedings were extremely
unpleasing to my Cousin, who pretended to be
deeply mortified at any thing betokening indifference
and terribly alarmed at the possibility of
losing me. On the whole, I confess to you that
I thought my Cousin and I were destined for
each other, and felt myself, if I may so speak,
not in love with him, but prepared, at the bidding
of discretion, to love him.

My brother's report therefore greatly distressed
me. Should my Cousin prove a reprobate,
no power on earth should compel me to be
his. If his character should prove blameless,
and my heart raise no obstacles, at a proper time,

I should act with absolute independence of my
brother's inclinations. The menace, that while
he had voice or arm he would hinder my choice
of Risberg, made the less impression as it related
to an event, necessarily distant and which
probably might never happen.

The next letter from Risberg put an end to
all further intercourse between us. It informed
us of his being on the eve of marriage into an opulent
family. It expressed much indignation
at the calumny which had prevailed with my father
to withdraw his protection: declared that he
deemed himself by no means equitably or respectfully
treated by him: Expressed gratitude
to my mother for the supply she had remitted,
which had arrived very seasonably and prevented
him from stooping to humiliations which might
have injured his present happy prospects; and
promised to repay the sum as soon as possible.
This promise was punctually performed, and Risberg
assured me that he was as happy as a lovely
and rich wife could make him.

I was satisfied with this result, and bestowed no
further thought on that subject. From morn
to midnight have I written, and have got but little
way in my story. Adieu.