LETTER LIV.
I have just returned from a visit to my new friend. I
begin to think that if I had time to cultivate her good opinion
I should gain as much of it as I deserve. Her good will;
her sympathy at least might be awakened in my favor.
We have had a long conversation. Her distance and reserve
are much less than they were. She blames, yet
pities me. I have been very communicative, and have
offered her the perusal of all the letters that I have lately
received from Mrs. Talbot as vouchers for my sincerity.
She listened favorably to my account of the unhappy
misapprehension into which Mrs. Fielder had fallen. She
was disposed to be more severe on Miss Jessup's imposture,
than even my irritated passions had been.
She would not admit that Mrs. Fielder's antipathy to my
alliance with her daughter, was without just grounds. She
thought that everlasting separation was best for us both. A
total change of my opinions on moral subjects, might, perhaps,
in time, subdue the mother's aversion to me, but this
change must necessarily be slow and gradual. I was indeed
already, from my own account, far from being principled
against religion, but this was only a basis whereon to
build the hope of future amendment. No present merit
could be founded on my doubts.
I spared not myself in my account of former follies.
The recital made her very solemn. I had—I had, indeed,
been very faulty; my present embarrassments were the natural
and just consequences of my misconduct. I had not
merited a different destiny. I was unworthy of the love of
such a woman as Jane. I was not qualified to make her
happy. I ought to submit to banishment, not only as to a
punishment justly incurred, but in gratitude to one whose
genuine happiness, taking into view her mother's character
and the sacrifices to which her choice of me would subject
her, would be most effectually consulted by my exile.
This was an irksome lesson. She had the candor not to
expect my cordial concurrence in such sentiments, yet endeavored
in her artless manner to enforce them. She did
not content herself with placing the matter in this light.
She still continued to commend the design of a distant
voyage, even should I intend one day to return. The
scheme was likely to produce health and pleasure to me.
It offered objects which a rational curiosity must hold dear.
The interval might not pass away unpropitiously to me.
Time might effect desirable changes in Mrs. Fielder's sentiments
and views. A thousand accidents might occur to
level those obstacles which were now insuperable. Pity
and complacency might succeed to abhorrence and scorn.
Gratitude and admiration for the patience, meekness and
self-sacrifices of the daughter, might gradually bring about
the voluntary surrender of her enmities; besides that event
must one day come, which will place her above the influence
of all mortal cares and passions.
These conversations have not been without their influence.
Yes, my friend, my mind is less gloomy and tumultuous
than it was. I look forward to this voyage with
stronger hopes.
Methinks, I would hear once more from Jane. Could
she be persuaded cheerfully to acquiesce in her mother's
will; reserve herself for fortunate contingencies; confide in
my fidelity; and find her content in the improvement of
her time and fortune; in befriending the destitute; relieving,
by her superfluities, the needy; and consoling the afflicted
by her sympathy, advice, and succor—would she not derive
happiness from these sources, though disappointed in
the wish nearest her heart.
Might I not have expected a letter ere this? But she
knows not where I am—probably imagines me at my father's
house. Shall I not venture to write? a last and long
farewell? Yet have I not said already all that the occasion
will justify? But, if I would write I know not how to address
her. It seems she has not gone to New York. Her
mother has a friend in Jersey, whither she prevailed on
Jane to accompany her. I suppose it would be no arduous
undertaking to trace her footsteps and gain an interview,
and perhaps, I shall find the temptation irresistible.
Stephen has just now told me, by letter, that he sails in ten
days. There will be time enough to comply with your
friendly invitation. My sister and you may expect to see
me by Saturday night. In the arms of my true friends, I
will endeavor to forget the vexations that at present prey
upon the peace of
