University of Virginia Library

SARAH RAMSAY TO FRANK OMAR.

I know the contents of the letter—no matter how.—
Enough for our purpose, that I know them; and foreseeing
the consequences, have written as I have.

Be not rash, my friend. There is more meaning in
Molton's offer than you have been aware of. You have
fallen into the pit that he dug for you. You have forever
abandoned—what you ought to have clung to, as your
life and blood—Juliet. Nay, have you not dishonoured
her in your thought? What is the conspiracy that he alludes
to? There is meaning in it. Who are the plotters?
Be not precipitate. But, as you value me—as you value
Juliet—O, avoid Molton. Your reply—I know not what
it was—but it has parched his heart up. He has devoted
you. Be a hero, for once—O, do! my beloved cousin,
and avoid the murderer. What have you to fear? He
is a coward. I have said so from the beginning,—have
I not? But a coward may assassinate, or poison. Yet,
if you do meet—which righteous heaven avert—before
you join battle, throw my defiance in his teeth. Woman
as I am, I contemn and dare him, to his utmost. Once
I did this before Jane. Why? Because I saw her turn
pale. I never shall forget her looks. We were not friends,
then. “Much as I hate thee, Sarah,” said she to me, “I
would not have Molton hear that, for the wide world.—

It would be thy destruction. He never was braved with
impunity. Nay, woman—thy eyes may flash, and thy
lip curl;---but I have seen a mightier than thou—a
haughtier one, too—at his feet, in tears, for having said
less of him.” I remember her words. I remember her
looks. They awed and intimidated me. There was a
mystery and a terrour in them. But I forget them, now
—I forget every thing. Thy safety only do I consult.
I have a secret champion ready for him. I know not who
he is;—but there is his gauntlet—(a packet was enclosed)—and
I will vouch for him. Give that to Molton, if
you ever meet. I am assured of the power;—it is a
charm, a spell, a talisman, before which, his arm will
fall lifeless. I know not what it is—I do not even imagine.
But carry it forever about you;—let nothing tempt
you to lay it aside;—for he may fall upon you in the
darkness and solitude—he may—(of that I am assured.)

In my next to John, I will enclose one of several notes,
that I have received, lately, from—I know not whom.—
I have never answered them. I knew not who it is, or
what; but no guardian angel ever did his ministering
more diligently. I have Molton's whole life before me.

know every spring of his heart;—and, terrible as he is,
I almost pant to encounter him, that I may open the
mysterious packet, and confound him, forever, and at
once.

Am I not strangely altered? I know not what possesses
me. What should I have thought, six months ago,
had any one said, that I should live to receive anonymous
letters—treasure them as I do these—doat on them—and
even—my hand trembles, and I blush to the ends of my
fingers, at the thought—even begin to meditate a reply.
Yes, there are some things that I must ask. I will—if
it be only to detect all the villany of Molton. Ha!—
would any other theme have so excited me, so impelled
me, headlong, as this has? Cousin, I cannot pray. It distresses
me. Gradually, have I left off the habit;—yet, O!
it had become cold—cold and sad, long before I dared
to omit it. There was a time; but ah, that time has passed—when

I could not sleep, if I had omitted my prayers.
But now—alas, I cannot sleep, do what I will; and I
dare not—cannot pray—.