_To Jane Talbot_
New York, October 19.
You need not come to see me, Jane. I will not see you. Lay me not under
the cruel necessity of shutting my door against you, for _that_ must
be the consequence of your attempt.
After reading your letter, and seeing full proof of your infatuation, I
resolved to throw away my care no longer upon you; to think no more of
you; to act just as if you never had existence; whenever it was possible,
to shun you; when I met you, by chance, or perforce, to treat you merely
as a stranger. I write this letter to acquaint you with my resolution.
Your future letters cannot change it, for they shall all be returned to
you unopened.
I know you better than to trust to the appearance of half-yielding
reluctance which your letter contains. Thus it has always been, and as
often as this duteous strain flattered me with hopes of winning you to
reason, have I been deceived and disappointed.
I trust to your discernment, your seeming humility, no longer. No child
are you of mine. You have, henceforth, no part in my blood; and may I very
soon forget that so lost and betrayed a wretch ever belonged to it!