"Pray," (with much earnestness,) "are you married yet?"
The confusion with which I returned an answer to this did not escape
him.
"I asked Mrs. Fielder the same question, and she talked as if it were a
doubtful point. She could not tell, she said, with a rueful physiognomy.
Very probable it might be so. I could not bring her to be more explicit.
As I proposed to see you, she said, you were the fittest person to explain
your own situation. This made me the more anxious to see you. Pray, Jane,
how do matters stand between you and Mrs. Fielder? are you not on as good
terms as formerly?"
I answered, that some difference had unhappily occurred between us,
that I loved and revered her as much as ever, and hoped that we should
soon be mother and daughter again.
"But the cause?--the cause, Jane? Is a lover the bone of contention
between you? That's the rock on which family harmony is sure to be
wrecked. But tell me: what have you quarrelled about?"
How could I explain on such a subject, thus abruptly introduced to
_him_? I told him it was equally painful and useless to dwell on my
contentions with my mother, or on my own affairs. "Rather let me hear,"
said I, "how it fares with you; what fortunes you have met with in this
long absence."
"Pretty well; pretty well. Many a jade's trick did Fortune play me
before I left this spot, but ever since, it has been all smooth and bright
with me. But this marriage--Art thou a wife or not? I heard, I think, some
talk about a Talbot. What's become of him? They said you were engaged to
him."
"It is long since the common destiny has ended all Talbot's
engagements."
"Dead, is he? Well, a new aspirer, I suppose, has succeeded, and he is
the bone of contention. Who's he?"
I could not bear that a subject of such deep concern to me should be
discussed thus lightly, and therefore begged him to change the
subject.
"Change the subject? With all my heart, if we can find any more
important; but that's impossible. So we must even stick to this a little
longer. Come; what's his parentage; fortune; age; character; profession?
'Tis not likely I shall find fault where Mrs. Fielder does. Young men and
old women seldom hit upon the same choice in a husband; and, for my part,
I am easily pleased."
"This is a subject, brother, on which it is impossible that we should
think alike; nor is it necessary. Let us then talk of something in which
we have a common concern; something that has a claim to interest you."
"What subject, girl, can have a stronger claim on my attention than the
marriage of my sister? I am not so giddy and unprincipled as to be
unconcerned on that head, So make no more ado, but tell your
_brother_ candidly what are your prospects."
After some hesitation,--"My real brother--one who had the tenderness
becoming that relation--would certainly deserve my confidence. But----"
"But what? Come; never mince the matter, I scarcely been half a brother
hitherto, I grant you of an enemy, perhaps, than friend; but no reason
why I should continue hostile or indifferent. So tell me who the lad is,
and what are his pretensions."
I endeavoured to draw him off to some other subject, but he would not
be diverted from this. By dint of interrogatories, he at last extorted
from me a few hints respecting you. Finding that you were without fortune
or profession, and that my regard for you had forfeited all favour with my
mother, the inquiry was obvious, how we meant to live. It was impossible
to answer this question in any manner satisfactory to him. He has no
notion of existence unconnected with luxury and splendour.
"Have you made any acquisitions," continued he, "since I saw you? Has
any good old aunt left you another legacy?"--This was said with the utmost
vivacity and self-possession. A strange being is my brother. Could he have
forgotten by whom I was robbed of my former legacy?
"Come, come; I know thou art a romantic being,--one accustomed to
_feed on thoughts_ instead of pudding. Contentment and a cottage are
roast beef and a palace to thee; but, take my word for it, this inamorata
of thine will need a more substantial diet. By marrying him you will only
saddle him with misery. So drop all thoughts of so silly a scheme; write
him a 'good-by;' make up your little matters, and come along with me. I
will take you to my country, introduce you to a new world, and bring to
your feet hundreds of generous souls, the least of whom is richer, wiser,
handsomer, than this tame-spirited, droning animal--what's his name? But
no matter. I suppose I know nothing of him."
I was rash enough to tell him your name and abode, but I treated his
proposal as a jest. I quickly found that he was serious. He soon became
extremely urgent; recounted the advantages of his condition; the charming
qualities of his wife; the security and splendour of his new rank. He
endeavoured to seduce my vanity by the prospect of the conquest I should
make in that army of colonels, philosophers, and commissioners that formed
the circle of his friends. "Any man but a brother," said he, "must own
that you are a charming creature. So you need only come and see, in order
to conquer." His importunities increased as my reluctance became more
evident. Thoughtless as I supposed him to be, he said, the wish to find me
out, carry me to France, and put me in Fortune's way, was no
inconsiderable inducement with him to accept the commission which brought
him to America. He insinuated that brothership and eldership gave him
something like a title to paternal authority, and insisted on
obedience.
The contest became painful. Impatience and reproach on his side
awakened the like sentiments in me, and it cost me many efforts to
restrain my feelings. Alternately he commanded and persuaded; was willing
to be governed by my mother's advice; would carry me forthwith to New
York; would lay before her his proposal, and be governed by her decision.
The public vessel that brought him lay at Newport, waiting his return.
Every possible accommodation and convenience was possessed by the ship. It
was nothing but a sailing palace, in which the other passengers were
merely his guests, selected by himself.
I was a fool for refusing his offer. A simpleton. The child of caprice,
whom no time could render steadfast except in folly; into whom no counsel
or example could instil an atom of common sense. He supposed _my man_
was equally obstinate and stupid; but he would soon see of what stuff
_he_ was made. He would hurry to Baltimore, and take the boy to task
for his presumption and insolence in aspiring to Jane Talbot without her
brother's consent.
He snatched up his hat; but this intimation alarmed me. "Pray, stay one
moment, brother. Be more considerate. What right can you possibly have to
interfere with Mr. Colden's concerns? Talk to me as much and in what style
you please; but, I beseech you, insult not a man who never offended
you."
Perceiving my uneasiness on this head, he took advantage of it to renew
his solicitations for my company to France,--swore solemnly that no man
should have his sister without his consent, and that he would force the
boy to give me up.
This distressing altercation ended by his going away, declaring, in
spite of my entreaties, that he would see you, and teach your insolence a
lesson not easily forgotten.
To sleep after this interview was impossible. I could hardly still my
throbbing heart sufficiently to move the pen. You cannot hear from me in
time to avoid this madman, or to fortify yourself against an interview. I
cannot confute the false or cunning glosses he may make upon my conduct.
He may represent me to you as willing to accompany him; as detained only
by my obligation to you, from which it is in your power to absolve me.
Till I hear from you I shall have no peace. Would to Heaven there was
some speedier conveyance!