_To James Montford_
December 9.
Once more, after a night of painful musing or troubled repose, I am at
the pen. I am plunged into greater difficulties and embarrassments than
ever.
It was scarcely daylight, when a slumber into which I had just fallen
was interrupted by a servant of the inn. A girl was below, who wanted to
see me. The description quickly proved it to be Molly. I rose and directed
her to be admitted.
She brought two letters from her mistress, and was told to wait for an
answer. Jane traversed her room, half distracted and sleepless during most
of the night. Towards morning she sat down to her desk, and finished a
letter, which, together with one written a couple of days before, was
despatched to me.
My heart throbbed--I was going to say with transport; but I am at a
loss to say whether anguish or delight was uppermost on reading these
letters. She recalls every promise of eternal separation; she consents to
immediate marriage as the only wise expedient; proposes ten o'clock
_this night_ to join our hands; will conceal her purpose from her
mother, and resigns to me the providing of suitable means.
I was overwhelmed with surprise and--shall I not say?--delight at this
unexpected concession. An immediate and _consenting_ answer was
required. I hurried to give this answer, but my tumultuous feelings would
not let me write coherently. I was obliged to lay down the pen, and take a
turn across the room to calm my tremors. This gave me time to reflect.
"What," thought I, "am I going to do? To take advantage of a momentary
impulse in my favour. To violate my promises to Mrs. Fielder: my letter to
her may be construed into promises not to seek another interview with
Jane, and to leave the country forever. And shall I betray this impetuous
woman into an irrevocable act, which her whole future life may be
unavailingly consumed in repenting? Some delay, some deliberation, cannot
be injurious.
"And yet this has always been my advice. Shall I reject the hand that
is now offered me? How will she regard these new-born scruples, this
drawing back when the door spontaneously opens and solicits my
entrance?
"Is it in my power to make Jane Talbot _mine_? my wife? And shall
I hesitate? Ah! would to Heaven it were a destiny as fortunate for her as
for me!--that no tears, no repinings, no compunctions, would follow!
Should I not curse the hour of our union when I heard her sighs? and,
instead of affording consolation under the distress produced by her
mother's displeasure, should I not need that consolation as much as
she?"
These reflections had no other effect than to make me irresolute. I
could not return my assent to her scheme, I could not reject so bewitching
an offer. This offer was the child of a passionate, a desperate moment.
Whither, indeed, should she fly for refuge from a scene like that which
she describes?
Molly urged me to come to some determination, as her mistress would
impatiently wait her return. Finding it indispensable to say something, I
at length wrote:--
"I have detected the author of the forgery which has given us so much
disquiet. I propose to visit your mother this morning, when I shall claim
admission to you. In that interview may our future destiny be discussed
and settled. Meanwhile, still regard me as ever ready to purchase your
true happiness by every sacrifice."
With this billet Molly hastened away. What cold, repulsive terms were
these! My conscience smote me as she shut the door. But what could I
do?
I had but half determined to seek an interview with Mrs. Fielder. What
purpose would it answer while the truth respecting the counterfeit letter
still remained imperfectly discovered? And why should I seek an interview
with Jane? Would her mother permit it? and should I employ my influence to
win her from her mother's side or rivet her more closely to it?
What, my friend, shall I do? You are too far off to answer me, and you
leave me to my own destiny. You hear not, and will not seasonably hear
what I say. Today will surely settle all difficulties, one way or another.
This night, if I will, I may be the husband of this angel, or I may raise
obstacles insuperable between us. Our interests and persons may be united
forever, or we may start out into separate paths and never meet again.
Another messenger! with a letter for me! Miss Jessup's servant it is,
perhaps. But let me read it.