_To Henry Colden_
Tuesday Morning, 11 o'clock.
I am glad I left not word how soon I meant to return, for here has
been, it seems, during my short absence, a pair of gossips. They have just
gone, lamenting the disappointment, and leaving me a world of
complimentary condolences.
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 disburdened my heart. Disburden 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 endeavoured to soothe 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 showed 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 shown 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 endeavoured to conceal
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 showed strong propensities to active amusement 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 favourable 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 honour 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 shown 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 befell 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, penniless, 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 stir 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 showed great solicitude.
I did not wonder at this, as Risberg had always been loved as a son. A
little consideration, therefore, ought to have shown 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 to-morrow, 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 forgotten 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. Bat what can be 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 favour, 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 parlour, 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 teasing 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 endeavoured to muster up a little spirit, and replied, "I could not
plead before a more favourable 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 humour you, let me hear how you have found yourself out to
be wiser than your father and brother."
"I do not imagine, brother, that 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 inter-meddling 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 seem she
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 proof 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-by 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 endeavoured 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 honour 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.