[Editorial note: The observant reader will have noted there is no
Letter V. The original text did not contain one,
and we have chosen to let the letters retain their
original numbers, rather than renumber them.]
_To Henry Colden_
Thursday Morning, October 6.
As soon as my visitants had gone, I hastened to my father. I
immediately introduced the subject of which my heart was full. I related
the particulars of my late interview with my brother; entreated him with
the utmost earnestness to make the proper inquiries into the state of my
brother's affairs, with whose fate it was too plain that his own were
inextricably involved.
He was seized with extreme solicitude on hearing my intelligence. He
could not keep his chair one moment at a time, but walked about the floor
trembling. He called his servant, and directed him, in a faltering voice,
to go to my brother's house and request him to come immediately.
I was sensible that what I had done was violently adverse to my
brother's wishes. Nevertheless, I urged my father to an immediate
explanation, and determined to be present at the conference.
The messenger returned. My brother was not at home. We waited a little
while, and then despatched the messenger again, with directions to wait
till his return. We waited, in vain, till nine; ten; eleven o'clock. The
messenger then came back, informing us that Prank was still abroad. I was
obliged to dismiss the hope of a conference this night, and returned in an
anxious and melancholy mood to Mrs. Fielder's.
On my way, while ruminating on these events, I began to fear that I had
exerted an unjustifiable degree of caution. I knew that those who embark
in pecuniary schemes are often reduced to temporary straits and
difficulties; that ruin and prosperity frequently hang on the decision of
the moment; that a gap may be filled up by a small effort seasonably made,
which, if neglected, rapidly widens and irrevocably swallows up the
ill-fated adventurer.
It was possible that all my brother had said was literally true; that
he merited my confidence in this instance, and that the supply he demanded
would save both him and my father from the ruin that impended over them.
The more I pondered on the subject, the more dissatisfied I became with my
own scruples. In this state of mind I reached home. The servant, while
opening the door, expressed her surprise at my staying out so late,
telling me that my brother had been waiting my return for several hours,
with marks of the utmost impatience. I shuddered at this intelligence,
though just before I had almost formed the resolution of going to his
house and offering him the money he wanted.
I found him in my apartment. "Good God!" cried he; "where have you been
till this time of night?"
I told him frankly where I had been, and what had detained me. He was
thunder-struck. Instead of that storm of rage and invective which I
expected, he grew pale with consternation, and said, in a faint voice,--
"Jane, you have ruined me beyond redemption. Fatal, fatal rashness! It
was enough to have refused me a loan which, though useless to you, is as
indispensable to my existence as my heart's blood. Had you quietly lent me
the trifling pittance I asked, all might yet have been well,--my father's
peace have been saved and my own affairs been completely re-established."
All arrogance and indignation were now laid aside. His tone and looks
betokened the deepest distress. All the firmness, reluctance, and wariness
of my temper vanished in a moment. My heart was seized with an agony of
compunction. I came close to him, and, taking his hand involuntarily,
said, "Dear brother, forgive me."
Strange what influence calamity possesses in softening the character!
He made no answer, but, putting his arms around me, pressed me to his
breast, while tears stole down his cheek.
Now was I thoroughly subdued. I am quite an April girl, thou knowest,
Harry, and the most opposite emotions fill, with equal certainty, my eyes.
I could scarcely articulate, "Oh, my dear brother, forgive me. Take what
you ask. If it can be of any service to you, take all I have."
"But how shall I see my father? Infinite pains have I taken to conceal
from him a storm which I thought could be easily averted, which his
knowledge of it would only render more difficult to resist; but my cursed
folly, by saying more than I intended to you, has blasted my designs."
I again expressed my regret for the rashness of my conduct, and
entreated him to think better of my father than to imagine him invincible
to argument. I promised to go to him in the morning, and counteract, as
much as I could, the effects of my evening conversation. At length he
departed, with somewhat renovated spirits, and left me to muse upon the
strange events of this day.
I could not free myself from the secret apprehension of having done
mischief rather than good by my compliance. I had acted without consulting
my mother, in a case where my youth and inexperience stood in the utmost
need of advice. On the most trivial occasions I had hitherto held it a
sacred duty to make her the arbitress and judge of my whole conduct; and
now shame for my own precipitance and regard for my brother's feelings
seemed to join in forbidding me to disclose what had passed. A most
restless and unquiet night did I pass.
Next morning was I to go to my father, to repair as much as possible
the breach I had thoughtlessly made in his happiness. I knew not what
means to employ for this purpose. What could I say? I was far from being
satisfied, myself, with my brother's representations. I hoped, but had
very little confidence that any thing in my power to do would be of
permanent advantage.
These doubts did not make me defer my visit. I was greatly surprised to
find my father as cheerful and serene as usual, which he quickly accounted
for by telling me that he had just had a long conversation with Frank, who
had convinced him that there was no ground for the terrors I had inspired
him with the night before. He could not forbear a little acrimony on the
impropriety of my interference, and I tacitly acquiesced in the censure. I
found that he knew nothing of the sum I had lent, and I thought not proper
to mention it.
That day, notwithstanding his promises of payment, passed away without
hearing from my brother. I had never laid any stress upon the promise, but
drew a bad omen from this failure.
A few days elapsed without any material incident. The next occasion on
which my brother was introduced into conversation with Mrs. Fielder took
place one evening after my friend had returned from spending the day
abroad. After a pause, in which there was more significance than usual,--
"Pray, have you seen Frank lately?"