LETTER LVI.
To Mrs. Montford.
Philadelphia, Oct. 7.
Madam,
It is with extreme reluctance that I venture to address
you in this manner. I cannot find words to account for or
apologize. But if you be, indeed, the sister of Henry Colden,
you cannot be ignorant of me, and of former transactions
between us; and especially, the circumstance that now
compels me to write—you can be no stranger to his present
situation.
Can you forgive this boldness, in an absolute stranger to
your person, but not to your virtues? I have heard much
of you, from one in whom I once had a little interest; who
honored me with his affection.
I know that you lately possessed a large share of that affection.
I doubt not that you still retain it, and are able to
tell me what has become of him.
I have a long time struggled with myself and my fears in
silence. I know how unbecoming this address must appear
to you, and yet, persuaded that my character and my relation
to your brother are well known to you, I have been
able to curb by anxieties no longer.
Do then, my dearest madam, gratify my curiosity, and
tell me without delay, what has become of your brother.
