It is inexpressibly disagreeable to me to be obliged to enter again on a
subject, that has already raised a tumult of _indignant_ emotions in my
bosom, which I was labouring to suppress when I received your letter. I
shall now _condescend_ to answer your epistle; but let me first tell
you, that, in my _unprotected_ situation, I make a point of never
forgiving a _deliberate insult_—and in that light I consider your late
officious conduct. It is not according to my nature to mince matters—I
will then tell you in plain terms, what I think. I have ever considered
you in the light of a _civil_ acquaintance—on the word friend I lay a
peculiar emphasis—and, as a mere acquaintance, you were rude and
_cruel_, to step forward to insult a woman, whose conduct and
misfortunes demand respect. If my friend, Mr. Johnson, had made the
proposal—I should have been severely hurt—have thought him unkind and
unfeeling, but not _impertinent_. The privilege of intimacy you had no
claim to, and should have referred the man to myself—if you had not
sufficient discernment to quash it at once. I am, sir, poor and
destitute. Yet I have a spirit that will never bend, or take indirect
methods, to obtain the consequence I despise; nay, if to support life it
was necessary to act contrary to my principles, the struggle would soon
be over. I can bear any thing but my own contempt.
In a few words, what I call an insult, is the bare supposition that I
could for a moment think of _prostituting_ my person for a maintenance;
for in that point of view does such a marriage appear to me, who
consider right and wrong in the abstract, and never by words and local
opinions shield myself from the reproaches of my own heart and
understanding.
It is needless to say more—Only you must excuse me when I add, that I
wish never to see, but as a perfect stranger, a person who could so
grossly mistake my character. An apology is not necessary—if you were
inclined to make one—nor any further expostulations. I again repeat, I
cannot overlook an affront; few indeed have sufficient delicacy to
respect poverty, even where it gives lustre to a character——and I tell
you sir, I am poor, yet can live without your benevolent exertions.