Sarah :: :: University of Virginia Library

WHY do you tarry so long from town, dear
Anne? Yet I need not inquire; you find health
and pleasure in the retired shades of Wiltshire,
nor once let your fancy wander to the smoke,
noise, and confusion of London. Not once, do I
say? Pardon me, Anne; you sometimes think
on me, mentally inquire how I do, what I am
about, and whether I am happy.

I want you in town, I want your advice—yet
cannot wait to receive it. I will tell you what
has happened, what I have heard, and what I am
about to do; and though before you receive this, I
shall have done it past recal, I pray you do not
spare me if you think I have erred, speak to me
in the language of sincerity, correct my faults,
severely lash and ridicule my follies, for it is my
firm opinion, Anne, that more than half the vices
and follies with which this sublunary sphere so
plentifully abounds, owe their origin to the want
of truth, in the intercourse between the animated
atoms with which it is peopled; every vice
that can disgrace humanity, is dignified with
some specious name, and decorated with such
tinsel finery, that it almost assumes the appearance
of a virtue. Why can we not speak plain,
openly avow the detestation we feel toward a
deviation from rectitude, and treat profligacy of
all kinds, with the contempt it deserves. But
this is not proceeding in a direct line with the
story I was about to commence; no matter, mariners
say there is more pleasure in traverse sailing,
when by dexterous management they reach
in safety the intended port, than in proceeding
in a straight course with a fair wind.

Last Monday evening, Darnley was gone to his
club. Anne, I don't like these clubs; they smoke,
drink and dispute, until they fancy themselves
statesmen, heroes, and demigods, and go home
to their wives in a state little removed from brutality;
preach about the prerogative and dignity

of man, the great lord of creation, and expect
their simply rational companions to bow with
submission, and acknowledge their supremacy.
Well, Darnley, was at his club. Mary Melbourn
had past the evening with me; she is
on a visit of two or three months to Darnley's
mother, and having a bad head ache, had retired
early. I had played until I was weary, and was
sitting in a kind of listless half sleep and awake
manner, when a single rap at the street door
made me start; the servant, who was sitting up
in the kitchen, ran to the door, but had the precaution
to put the chain across before she opened
it. “Does not Mr. George Darnley live here?”
said a faint female voice. Betty replied in the
affirmative. “Is he at home?” asked the same
voice. “No,” she replied, “but my mistress is.”
“Your mistress, what, Mr. Darnley's mother?”
“No, his wife.” “His wife?” she exclaimed shrilly,
and seemed choked with an hysteric affection,—then
pausing a moment or two, she said,
—“I am to blame—I have business of importance,
young woman, to transact with your master;
pray give him this letter, and request him
not to fail coming early in the morning, to the
place I have mentioned, for I am come off a long
journey,fatigued, ill, distressed, and can only look
to him for comfort and repose.” At every sentence
the agitated female uttered, I had drawn
nearer and nearer the head of the stairs, and when
she had finished the last, was actually half way
down, but before I could speak, she was gone,

having left the letter in Betty's hands. The girl
met me on the stairs, and offered to give me the
folded paper: that almost irresistible propensity,
which undid madam Eve, had nearly compelled
me to take it; but before I had touched it I recalled
my better reason. “Go,” said I, “put it
in the card racks in your master's counting house.
I will go to bed,”—and I actually did go to bed,
lest I might be tempted to pry into a letter which
might be only on business, and in no way whatever
concern me. There was something strange
in the woman's coming at that hour of the night,
for it was past ten o'clock; her voice, too, seemed
the voice of wounded sensibility. These reflections
kept me waking, and when Darnley
came home, I told him of the letter, and bade
the maid bring it to him. I am interrupted.

Adieu until next post.

SARAH.