University of Virginia Library

JOHN TO FRANK OMAR.

It may lighten my brother's heart, to know, that the
story which he has heard of Molton's baseness, toward
Marion, M. P. is untrue; and that, to have felt a regard
for him, is not so terrible a reproach, to a modest woman,
as he has thought. I have made particular inquiries,
and have been so fortunate, as to find the very
gentleman, at last, who, it was said, came so near being
deceived by Molton. The facts, as related by him, are

these:—“Molton never loved her, and never affected to
love her: on the contrary, she, herself, has always spoken
of him, as having conducted himself in the most
honourable manner. She was an ambitious, smart, showy
woman, and Molton was on intimate terms with her, for
years;—but, while I knew that he had no intention of marrying
her,” said this gentleman, “because he, more than
once, left off visiting her, on account of such a report,
informing her of the reason, at the time—I knew, also,
that their acquaintance was not only perfectly innocent,
but discreet. Nay, ask Molton himself. What he tells
you, you may depend upon. It is true, that I loved Marion—devoutly—to
infatuation;—and, it is also true, that
I became acquainted with her, through the means of Molton;
and that, after we separated, she was seriously ill,
and went, for a few days, into the country, accompanied
by Molton. Here, my knowledge of Marion and him
terminated. There never was a more cruel and murderous
slander, than this, of which you speak; and, were it
not as ridiculous, as cruel, I should be tempted to hunt up
the author. I have heard it before;—but I laughed at it.
There is not one word of truth, from beginning to end,
in the induction that has been so wickedly drawn, from
a few simple facts. The lady was imprudent, I have no
doubt; for all women are so, to a degree, when in love.
But she was innocent. I'll stake my life on that. Molton
was always too high minded, with all his faults, to
deceive a friend, so basely. I was his friend; and he
spoke to me of her faults, and virtues, without disguise.
Nay, he told me all their acquaintance. She deceived
me. She told me that he had, repeatedly, offered himself
to her. I doubted this;—and, when I told him, he denied
it in such a way, and with such evidence, as left me in
no kind of doubt. No—the truth was, that she liked Molton.
I do not believe that she loved him;—and, I believe,
that she would have won him, if she could. I know that
she tried hard,” Thus much for his story. From another
quarter, I learn, that the rest of the slander is as
base a fabrication. Yet, the facts are nearly the same.
“She did not die in childbed. She is living yet. But
her husband was, probably, induced to address her, in
consequence of what Molton said to him. Nor, is it true,
that there was any secret cause, for the interruption of
the acquaintance between Molton and the family. It was
a plain matter of fact. He is haughty, bitter, and sarcastick;
and, when once provoked, difficult to appease.
He affronted her, deliberately; and, as deliberately, repented
of it. The first cause of their coolness was accidental;
but it soon became so serious, that the father was
obliged to interfere. Molton has since been sensible of
his unmanly and unworthy conduct; and, I am sure, if he
ever have an opportunity, he will make an atonement
proportioned to his transgression. Perhaps the birth of
the child may be premature. The story abroad is so, I
confess. But I would pledge my soul, for the innocence
of Molton;—and he, I am sure, would put his against
the man, that would dare to insinuate aught against the
purity of his acquaintance with that woman.” Nay, brother,
you may depend upon this; for Molton, himself, has
told me, in plain language, the whole extent of her imprudence
with him. It amounted only to a few tears;—
but, he declares, that he never even kissed her, in his life;
and I believe him. “No,” says he, “she is an innocent
and wronged creature, so far as I know anything of her;
and I have been very intimate with her, and for a long
time.” Farewell. I shall direct this to Messrs. Fairman
and Baits, of New-Orleans, with leave to forward it, if
you should have left there. Juliet is well. Sarah, I imagine,
is somewhat in love!—with a deaf-and-dumb man,
too!—but that is hardly to be wondered at, where one is
so able and willing to talk enough for two:—it would be
no serious objection to her, that he could not speak—nor
to him, that he could not hear! I shall tell her so, next.