The novels of Charles Brockden Brown :: :: University of Virginia Library

I shall take care to prevent future interruption by shutting
up the house and retiring to my chamber, where I am resolved
to remain till I have fully disburthened my heart.
Disburthen it, said I? I shall load it, I fear, with sadness,
but I will not regret an undertaking which my duty to you
makes indispensable.

One of the earliest incidents that I remember, is an expostulation
with my father. I saw several strange people
enter the chamber where my mother was. Somewhat suggested
to my childish fancy that these strangers meant to
take her away, and that I should never see her again. My
terror was violent, and I thought of nothing but seizing her
gown or hand, and holding her back from the rude assailants.
My father detained me in his arms, and endeavored to
sooth my fears, but I would not be appeased. I struggled
and shrieked, and, hearing some movements in my mother's
room, that seemed to betoken the violence I so much dreaded,
I leaped, with a sudden effort, from my father's arms,
but fainted before I reached the door of the room.

This may serve as a specimen of the impetuosity of my
temper. It was always fervent and unruly; unacquainted with
moderation in its attachments, violent in its indignation, and
its enmity, but easily persuaded to pity and forgiveness.

When I recovered from my swoon, I ran to my mother's
room, but she was gone. I rent the air with my cries, and
shocked all about me with importunities to know whither
they had carried her. They had carried her to the grave, and
nothing would content me, but to visit the spot three or four
times a day, and to sit in the room in which she died, in
stupid and mopeful silence all night long.

At this time I was only five years old, an age at which,
in general, a deceased parent is quickly forgotten; but, in
my attachment to my mother, I shewed none of the volatility
of childhood. While she lived, I was never at ease but
when seated at her knee, or with my arms round her neck.
When dead, I cherished her remembrance for years, and
have paid, hundreds of times, the tribute of my tears at the
foot of her grave.

My brother, who was three years older than myself, behaved
in a very different manner. I used to think the difference
between us was merely that of sex; that every boy
was boisterous, ungrateful, imperious, and inhuman, as
every girl was soft, pliant, affectionate. Time has cured
me of that mistake, and as it has shewn me females, unfeeling
and perverse, so it has introduced me to men full of
gentleness and sensibility. My brother's subsequent conduct
convinced me that he was at all times, selfish and irascible
beyond most other men, and that his ingratitude and
insolence to his mother were only congenial parts of the
character he afterwards displayed at large.

My brother and I passed our infancy in one unintermitted
quarrel. We were never together, but he played
some cruel and mischievous prank, which I never failed to
resent to the utmost of my little power. I soon found that
my tears only increased his exultation, and my complaints
only grieved my mother. I, therefore, gave word for word
and blow for blow, but being always worsted in such conflicts
I shunned him whenever it was possible, and whatever
his malice made me suffer, I endeavored to conceal it
from her.

My mother, on her death-bed, was anxious to see him,
but he had strolled away after some boyish amusement,
with companions as thoughtless as himself. The news of
her death scarcely produced an hour's seriousness. He
made my affliction a topic of sarcasm and contempt.

To soften my grief, my father consented to my living
under the care of her, whom I now call my mother. Mrs.
Fielder was merely the intimate from childhood of my own
mother, with whom, however, since her marriage, contracted
against Mrs. Fielder's inclination and remonstrances,
she had maintained but little intercourse. My mother's
sudden death and my helpless age, awakened all her early
tenderness, and induced her to offer an asylum to me.
Having a considerable fortune and no family, her offer, notwithstanding
ancient jealousies, was readily accepted by my
father.

My new residence was, in many respects, the reverse of
my former one. The treatment I received from my new
parent, without erasing the memory of the old one, quickly

excited emotions as filial and tender as I had ever experienced.
Comfort and quiet, peace and harmony, obsequious
and affectionate attendants and companions, I had
never been accustomed to under the paternal roof.

From this period till I was nearly sixteen years of age, I
merely paid occasional visits to my father. He loved me
with as much warmth as his nature was capable of feeling,
which I repaid him in gratitude and reverence. I never
remitted my attention to his affairs, and studied his security
and comfort as far as these were within my power.

My brother was not deficient in talents, but he wanted
application. Very early he shewed strong propensities to
active amusements and sensual pleasures. The school and
college were little attended to, and the time that ought
to have been appropriated to books and study, was wasted
in frolics and carousals. As soon as he was able to manage
a gun and a horse, they were procured, and these and the
company to which they introduced him, afforded employment
for all his attention and time.

My father had devoted his early years to the indefatigable
pursuit of gain. He was frugal and abstemious, though
not covetous, and amassed a large property. This property
he intended to divide between his two children, and to
secure my portion to his nephew, whom his parents had
left an orphan in his infancy, and whom my father had taken
and treated as his own child by marrying him to me. This
nephew passed his childhood among us. His temper being
more generous than my brother's, and being taught mutually
to regard each other as destined to a future union, our
intercourse was cordial and affectionate.

We parted at an age at which nothing like passion could
be felt. He went to Europe, in circumstances very favorable
to his improvement, leaving behind him the expectation
of his returning in a few years. Meanwhile, my father
was anxious that we should regard each other, and
maintain a correspondence as persons betrothed. In persons
at our age, this scheme was chimerical. As soon as
I acquired the power of reflection, I perceived the folly of
such premature bonds, and though I did not openly oppose
my father's wishes, held myself entirely free to obey any
new impulse which circumstances might produce. My

mother, so let me still call Mrs. Fielder, fully concurred in
my views.

You are acquainted, my friend, with many events of my
early life. Most of those not connected with my father and
his nephew, I have often related. At present, therefore, I
shall omit all collateral and contemporary incidents, and
confine myself entirely to those connected with these two
persons.

My father, on the death of his wife, retired from business,
and took a house in an airy and secluded situation.
His household consisted of a housekeeper, and two or three
servants, and apartments were always open for his son.

My brother's temper grew more unmanageable as he increased
in years. My father's views with regard to him
were such as parental foresight and discretion commonly
dictate. He wished him to acquire all possible advantages
of education, and then to betake himself to some liberal
profession, in which he might obtain honor as well as riches.
This sober scheme by no means suited the restless temper
of the youth. It was his maxim that all restraints were
unworthy of a lad of spirit, and that it was far more wise
to spend freely what his father had painfully acquired, than
by the same plodding and toilsome arts, to add to the heap.

I scarcely know how to describe my feelings in relation
to this young man. My affection for him was certainly
without that tenderness which a good brother is sure to excite.
I do not remember a single direct kindness that I ever
received from him, but I remember innumerable ill offices
and contempts. Still there was some inexplicable charm
in the mere tie of kindred, which made me more deplore
his errors, exult in his talents, rejoice in his success, and
take a deeper interest in his concerns than in those of any
other person.

As he advanced in age, I had new cause for my zeal in
his behalf. My father's temper was easy and flexible; my
brother was at once vehement and artful. Frank's arguments
and upbraidings created in his father an unnatural
awe, an apprehension and diffidence in thwarting his wishes
and giving advice, which usually distinguish the filial character.
The youth perceived his advantages, and employed

them in carrying every point on which his inclination was
set.

For a long time this absurd indulgence was shewn in
allowing his son to employ his time as he pleased; in refraining
from all animadversions on his idleness and dissipation,
and supplying him with a generous allowance of pocket
money. This allowance required now and then to be increased.
Every year and every month, by adding new
sources of expense, added something to the stipend.

My father's revenue was adequate to a very splendid establishment,
but he was accustomed to live frugally, and
thought it wise to add his savings to the principal of his estate.
These savings gradually grew less and less, till at
length my brother's numerous excursions, a French girl
whom he maintained in expensive lodgings, his horses, dogs,
and friends, consumed the whole of it.

I never met my brother but by accident. These interviews
were, for the most part, momentary, either in the
street or at my father's house, but I was too much interested
in all that befel him, not to make myself, by various means,
thoroughly acquainted with his situation.

I had no power to remedy the evil; as my elder brother
and as a man, he thought himself entitled to govern and despise
me. He always treated me as a frivolous girl, with
whom it was waste of time to converse, and never spoke to
me at all except to direct or admonish. Hence I could do
nothing but regret his habits. Their consequences to himself
it was beyond my power to prevent.

For a long time I was totally unaware of the tendencies
of this mode of life. I did not suspect that a brother's passions
would carry him beyond the bound of vulgar prudence,
or induce him to encroach on those funds, from which his
present enjoyments were derived. I knew him to be endowed
with an acute understanding, and imagined that this
would point out, with sufficient clearness, the wisdom of
limiting his expenses to his income.

In my daily conversations with my father, I never voluntarily
introduced Frank as our topic, unless by the harmless
and trite questions of "when was he here?" "where has
he gone?" and the like. We met only by accident, at his
lodgings; when I entered the room where he was, he never

thought of bestowing more than a transient look on me, just
to know who it was that approached. Circumstances, at
length, however, occurred, which put an end to this state
of neutrality.

I heard, twice or thrice a year, from my cousin Risberg.
One day a letter arrived in which he obscurely intimated
that the failure of remittances from my father, for more
than half a year, had reduced him to great distress. My
father had always taught him to regard himself as entitled
to all the privileges of a son; had sent him to Europe under
express conditions of supplying him with a reasonable stipend,
till he should come of age, at which period it was
concerted that Risberg should return and receive a portion
with me, enabling him to enter advantageously on the profession
of the law, to which he was now training. This stipend
was far from being extravagant; or more than sufficient for
the decent maintenance of a student at the temple, and
Risberg's conduct had always been represented, by those
under whose eye he had been placed, as regular and exemplary.

This intimation surprised me a good deal; I could easily
imagine the embarrassments to which a failure of this kind
must subject a generous spirit, and thought it my duty to
remove them as soon as possible. I supposed that some
miscarriage or delay had happened to the money, and that
my father would instantly rectify any error, or supply any
deficiency. I hastened, therefore, to his house, with the
opened letter. I found him alone, and immediately showed
him that page of the letter which related to this affair. I
anxiously watched his looks while he read it.

I observed marks of great surprise in his countenance,
and as soon as he laid down the letter, I began to expatiate
on the inconveniences which Risberg had suffered. He
listened to me, in gloomy silence, and when I had done,
made no answer but by a deep sigh and downcast look.

Pray, dear sir, continued I, what could have happened
to the money which you sent? You had not heard, I suppose,
of its miscarriage.

No, I had not heard of it before. I will look into it, and
see what can be done. Here further conversation was suspended
by a visitant. I waited with impatience till the guest

had retired, but he had scarcely left the room when my
brother entered. I supposed my father would have immediately
introduced this subject, and as my brother usually
represented him in every affair of business, and could of
course throw some light upon the present mystery, I saw
no reason why I should be excluded from a conference in
which I had some interest, and was, therefore, somewhat
surprised when my father told me he had no need of my
company for the rest of the day, and wished to be alone
with Francis. I rose, instantly to depart, but said, pray, sir,
tell my brother what has happened. Perhaps he can explain
the mystery.

What, cried my brother, with a laugh, has thy silly brain
engendered a mystery which I am to solve? Thou mayest
save thyself the trouble of telling me, for, really, I have no
time to throw away on thee or thy mysteries.

There was always something in my brother's raillery
which my infirm soul could never support. I ought always
to have listened and replied without emotion, but a fluttering
indignation usually deprived me of utterance. I found my
best expedient was flight, when I could fly, and silence
when obliged to remain; I therefore made no answer to
this speech, but hastily withdrew.

Next morning, earlier than usual, I went to my father.
He was thoughtful and melancholy. I introduced the subject
that was nearest my heart, but he answered me reluctantly,
and in general terms, that he had examined the affair, and
would take the necessary measures.

But, dear sir, said I, how did it happen? How did the
money miscarry?

Never mind, said he, a little peevishly, we shall see things
put to rights, I tell you, and let that satisfy you.

I am glad of it. Poor fellow! Young, generous, disdaining
obligation, never knowing the want of money, how must
he have felt on being left quite destitute, pennyless, running
in arrear for absolute necessaries; in debt to a good woman
who lived by letting lodgings, and who dunned him, after so
long a delay, in so indirect and delicate a manner.—What
must he have suffered, accustomed to regard you as a
father, and knowing you had no personal calls for your large
revenue, and being so solemnly enjoined by you not to stint

himself in any rational pleasure, for you would be always
ready to exceed your stated remittances, when there should
be just occasion. Poor fellow! my heart bleeds for him.
But how long will it be before he hears from you? His letter
is dated seven weeks ago. It will be another six or
eight weeks before he receives an answer, at least three
months in all, and during all this time he will be without
money. But perhaps he will receive it sooner.

My father frequently changed countenance, and shewed
great solicitude. I did not wonder at this, as Risberg had
always been loved as a son. A little consideration, therefore,
ought to have showed me the impropriety of thus descanting
on an evil without remedy; yet I still persisted. At
length, I asked to what causes I might ascribe his former
disappointments, in the letter to Risberg, which I proposed
writing immediately.

This question threw him into much confusion. At last
he said, peevishly, "I wish, Jane, you would leave these
matters to me; I don't like your interference."

This rebuke astonished me. I had sufficient discernment
to suspect something extraordinary, but was for a few minutes
quite puzzled and confounded. He had generally
treated me with tenderness and even deference, and I saw
nothing peculiarly petulant or improper in what I had said.

"Dear sir, forgive me, you know I write to my cousin,
and as he stated his complaints to me, it will be natural to
allude to them in my answer to his letter, but I will only tell
him that all difficulties are removed, and refer him to your
letter for further satisfaction; for you will no doubt write to
him."

I wish you would drop the subject. If you write, you
may tell him—but tell him what you please, or rather it
would be best to say nothing on the subject—but drop the
subject, I beseech you.

Certainly, if the subject displeases you, I will drop it.—
Here a pause of mutual embarrassment succeeded, which
was, at length, broken by my father.

I will speak to you tomorrow, Jane, on this subject. I
grant your curiosity is natural, and will then gratify it. To-morrow,
I may possibly explain why Risberg has not received

what, I must own, he had a right to expect. We'll
think no more of it at present, but play a game at draughts.

I was impatient, you may be sure, to have a second
meeting. Next day my father's embarrassment and perplexity
was very evident. It was plain that he had not forgot
the promised explanation, but that something made it a
very irksome task. I did not suffer matters to remain long
in suspense, but asked him, in direct terms, what had caused
the failure of which my cousin complained, and whether he
was hereafter to receive the stipulated allowance?

He answered hesitatingly, and with downcast eyes—why
—he did not know. He was sorry. It had not been
his fault. To say truth, Francis had received the usual
sums to purchase the bills. Till yesterday, he imagined
they had actually been purchased and sent. He always
understood them to have been so from Francis. He had
mentioned, after seeing Risberg's complaining letter, he had
mentioned the affair to Francis. Francis had confessed
that he had never sent the bills. His own necessities compelled
him to apply the money given him for this purpose
to his own use. To be sure, Risberg was his nephew; had
always depended on him for his maintenance, but somehow
or another the wants of Francis had increased very much
of late years, and swallowed up all that he could rap and
rend without encroaching on his principal. Risberg was but
his nephew, Frank was his own and only son. To be sure,
he once thought that he had enough for his three children,
but times, it seems, were altered. He did not spend on his
own wants more than he used to do; but Frank's expenses
were very great, and swallowed up every thing. To be
sure, he pitied the young man, but he was enterprising and
industrious, and could, no doubt, shift for himself; yet he
would be quite willing to assist him, were it in his power,
but really it was no longer in his power.

I was, for a time, at a loss for words to express my surprise
and indignation at my brother's unfeeling selfishness. I could
no longer maintain my usual silence on his conduct, but inveighed
against it, as soon as I could find breath, with the
utmost acrimony.

My father was embarrassed, confounded, grieved. He
sighed, and even wept.—Francis, said he, at last, to be

sure, has not acted quite right. But what can done? Is
he not my child, and if he has faults, is he altogether without
virtue? No, if he did not find a lenient and forgiving
judge in me, his father, in whom could he look for one.
Besides, the thing is done, and therefore without remedy.
This year's income is nearly exhausted, and I really fear
before another quarter comes round, I shall want myself.

I again described, in as strong and affecting terms as I
could, Risberg's expectations and disappointment, and insinuated
to him, that, in a case like this, there could be no impropriety
in selling a few shares of his bank stock.

This hint was extremely displeasing, but I urged him
so vehemently that he said, Francis will perhaps consent to
it; I will try him this evening.

Alas! said I, my brother will never consent to such a
measure. If he has found occasion for the money you
had designed for my poor cousin, and of all your current
income, his necessities will not fail to lay hold of
this.

Very true, (glad, it seemed of an excuse for not thwarting
his son's will,) Frank will never consent. So you see,
it will be impossible to do any thing.

I was going to propose that he should execute this business
without my brother's knowledge, but instantly perceived
the impossibility of that. My father had for some
years devolved on his son the management of all his affairs,
and habit had made him no longer qualified to act for himself.
Frank's opinion of what was proper to be done, was
infallible, and absolute in all cases.

I returned home with a very sad heart. I was deeply
afflicted with this new instance of my brother's selfishness
and of my father's infatuation—poor Risberg! said I,
what will become of thee. I love thee as my brother. I
feel for thy distresses. Would to heaven I could remove
them. And cannot I remove them? As to contending
with my brother's haughtiness in thy favor, that is a hopeless
task. As to my father, he will never submit to my
guidance.

After much fruitless meditation, it occurred to me that I
might supply Risberg's wants from my own purse. My
mother's indulgence to me was without bounds. She openly

considered and represented me as the heiress of her fortunes,
and confided fully in my discretion. The chief uses
I had hitherto found for money were charitable ones. I
was her almoner. To stand in the place of my father,
with respect to Risberg, and supply his customary stipend
from my own purse, was an adventurous undertaking for a
young creature like me. It was impossible to do this clandestinely;
at least, without the knowledge and consent of
Mrs. Fielder. I therefore resolved to declare what had
happened, and request her counsel. An opportunity suitable
to this did not immediately offer.

Next morning, as I was sitting alone in the parlor, at
work, my brother came in. Never before had I received a
visit from him. My surprise, therefore, was not small.
I started up with the confusion of a stranger, and requested
him, very formally, to be seated.

I instantly saw in his looks marks of displeasure, and
though unconscious of meriting it, my trepidation increased.
He took a seat without speaking, and after some pause addressed
me thus.

So girl, I hear that you have been meddling with things
that do not concern you; sowing dissension between the
old man and me; presuming to dictate to us how we are
to manage our own property. He retailed to me, last night,
a parcel of impertinence with which you had been teazing
him, about this traveller Risberg, assuming, long before
your time, the province of his care taker. Why, do you
think, continued he, contemptuously, he'll ever return to
marry you? Take my word for't, he's no such fool. I
know that he never will.

The infirmity of my temper, has been a subject of eternal
regret to me; yet it never displayed itself with much
force, except under the lash of my brother's sarcasms.
My indignation on those occasions had a strange mixture of
fear in it, and both together suffocated my speech. I made
no answer to this boisterous arrogance.

But come, continued he, pray let us hear your very wise
objections to a man's applying his own property to his own
use. To rob himself, and spend the spoil upon another is
thy sage maxim, it seems, for which, thou deservest to be
dubbed a she Solomon, but let's see if thou art as cunning

in defending as in coining maxims. Come there is a chair;
lay it on the floor, and suppose it a bar or rostrum, which
thou wilt, and stand behind it, and plead the cause of foolish
prodigality against common sense.

I endeavored to muster up a little spirit, and replied, I
could not plead before a more favorable judge. An appeal
to my brother on behalf of foolish prodigality, could hardly
fail of success. Poor common sense must look for justice
at some other tribunal.

His eyes darted fire. Come, girl, none of your insolence.
I did not come here to be insulted.

No, you rather came to commit than to receive an
insult.

Paltry distinguisher! to jest with you, and not chide you
for your folly, is to insult you, is it? Leave off romance, and
stick to common sense, and you will never receive any
thing but kindness from me. But come, if I must humor
you, let me hear how you have found yourself out to be
wiser than your father and brother.

I do not imagine, brother, any good will result from our
discussing this subject. Education, or sex, if you please, has
made a difference in our judgments, which argument will
never reconcile.

With all my heart. A truce everlasting let there be, but
in truth, I merely came to caution you against intermeddling
in my affairs, to tell you to beware of sowing jealousy and
ill will between the old man and me. Prate away on other
subjects as much as you please, but on this affair of Risberg's,
hold your tongue for the future.

I thank you for your brotherly advice, but I am afraid I
never shall bring myself to part with the liberty of prating
on every subject that pleases me; at least, my forbearance
will flow from my own discretion, and not from the imperious
prohibition of another.

He laughed. Well said, oddity. I am not displeased to
see you act with some spirit; but I repeat my charge; be
quiet. Your interference will do no good.

Indeed, I firmly believe that it will not; and that will be
a motive for my silence, that shall always have its due

weight with me. Risberg, I see, must look elsewhere for
a father and a brother.

Poor thing! do; put its finger in its eye and weep. Ha!
ha! ha! poor Risberg! how would he laugh to see these
compassionate tears. It seems he has written in a very
doleful strain to thee; talked very pathetically about his
debts, to his laundress and his landlady. I have a good
mind to leave thee in this amiable ignorance, but I'll prove
for once a kind brother, by telling you that Risberg is a profligate
and prodigal; that he neglects every study, but that
of dice; that this is the true reason why I have stood in
the way of the old man's bounty to him. I have unquestionable
proofs of his worthlessness, and see no reason to
throw away money upon London prostitutes and gamblers.
I never mentioned this to the old man, because I would not
needlessly distress him, for I know he loves Jack at least as
well as his own children. I tell it you to justify my conduct,
and hope that I may for once trust to your good
sense not to disclose it to your father.

My heart could not restrain its indignation at these words.

'Tis false, I exclaimed, 'tis a horrid calumny against
one who cannot defend himself; I will never believe the
depravity of my absent brother, till I have as good proof of
it, as my present brother has given me of his.

Bravo! my girl, who could have thought you could
give the lie with such a grace? why don't you spit in the
face of the vile calumniator?—But I am not angry with you,
Jane; I only pity you; yet I'll not leave you before I tell
you my mind. I have no doubt Risberg means to return.
He knows on what footing you are with Mrs. Fielder, and
will take care to return; but, mind me; Jane, you shall
never throw yourself and your fortune away upon Risberg,
while I have a voice or an arm to prevent it; and now—
good bye to you.

So ended this conversation. He left me in a hurry and
confusion of spirits not to be described. For a time I felt
nothing but indignation and abhorrence for what, I thought,
a wicked and cruel calumny, but in proportion as I regained
my tranquillity, my reflections changed. Did not my brother
speak truth? Was there not something in his manner
very different from that of an impostor? How unmoved

was he by the doubts which I ventured to insinuate of his
truth! Alas! I fear 'tis too true.

I told you before that we parted at an age when love
could not be supposed to exist between us. If I know
myself, I felt no more for him than for a mere brother; but
then I felt all the solicitude and tenderness of a sister. I
knew not scarcely how to act in my present situation; but at
length determined to disclose the whole affair to my mother.
With her approbation I enclosed an order on a London merchant
in a letter to this effect:

"I read your letter my friend, with the sentiments of
one who is anxious for your happiness. The difficulties
you describe, will, I am afraid, be hereafter prevented only
by your own industry. My father's and brother's expenses
consume the whole of that income in which you have
hitherto had a share, and I am obliged to apprize you that
the usual remittances will no longer be made. You are
now advancing to manhood, and, I hope will soon be able
to subsist upon the fruits of your own learning and industry.

"I have something more to say to you, which I scarcely
know how to communicate. Somebody here has loaded
your character with very heavy imputations. You are said
to be addicted to gaming, sensuality and the lowest vices.
How much grief this intelligence has given to all who love
you, you will easily imagine. To find you innocent of these
charges would free my heart from the keenest solicitude it
has hitherto felt. I leave to you the proper means of doing
this, if you can do it, without violation of truth.

"I am very imperfectly acquainted with your present
views. You originally designed, after having completed
your academical and legal education, to return to America.
If this should still be your intention, the enclosed will obviate
some of your pecuniary embarrassments, and my
mother enjoins me to tell you that, as you may need a few
months longer to make the necessary preparations for returning,
you may draw on her for an additional sum of five
hundred dollars. Adieu."

My relation to Risberg was peculiarly delicate. His
more lively imagination had deceived him already into a belief
that he was in love. At least, in all his letters, he
seemed fond of recognising that engagement which my

father had established between us, and exaggerated the
importance to his happiness, of my regard. Experience
had already taught me to set their just value on such professions.
I knew that men are sanguine and confident, and
that the imaginary gracefulness of passion naturally prompts
them to make their words outstrip their feelings. Though
eager in their present course, it is easy to divert them from
it, and most men of an ardent temper can be dying of love
for half a dozen different women in the course of a year.

Women feel deeply, but boast not. The supposed indecency
of forwardness makes their words generally fall short
of their sentiments, and passion, when once thoroughly imbibed,
is as hard to be escaped from, as it was difficultly
acquired. I felt no passion, and endeavored not to feel
any for Risberg, till circumstances should make it proper
and discreet. My attachment was to his interest, his happiness,
and not to his person, and to convince him of this,
was extremely difficult. To persuade him that his freedom
was absolute and entire; that no tie of honor or compassion
bound him to me, but that, on the contrary, to dispose of
his affections elsewhere, would probably be most conducive
to the interests of both.

These cautious proceedings were extremely unpleasing
to my cousin, who pretended to be deeply mortified at any
thing betokening indifference, and terribly alarmed at the
possibility of losing me. On the whole, I confess to you,
that I thought my cousin and I were destined for each other,
and felt myself, if I may so speak, not in love with him,
but prepared, at the bidding of discretion, to love him.

My brother's report, therefore, greatly distressed me.
Should my cousin prove a reprobate, no power on earth
should compel me to be his. If his character should prove
blameless, and my heart raise no obstacles, at a proper
time, I should act with absolute independence of my brother's
inclinations. The menace, that while he had voice
or arm he would hinder my choice of Risberg, made the
less impression as it related to an event, necessarily distant,
and which probably might never happen.

The next letter from Risberg put an end to all further
intercourse between us. It informed us of his being on
the eve of marriage into an opulent family. It expressed

much indignation at the calumny which had prevailed with
my father to withdraw his protection; declared that he
deemed himself by no means equitably or respectfully
treated by him; expressed gratitude to my mother for the
supply she had remitted, which had arrived very seasonably
and prevented him from stooping to humiliations which
might have injured his present happy prospects; and promised
to repay the sum as soon as possible. This promise
was punctually performed, and Risberg assured me that he
was as happy as a lovely and rich wife could make him.

I was satisfied with this result, and bestowed no further
thought on that subject. From morn to midnight have I
written, and have got but little way in my story. Adieu.