Philadelphia, December 19.
I have just returned from a visit to my new friend. I begin to think
that if I had time to cultivate her good opinion I should gain as much of
it as I deserve. Her good-will, her sympathy at least, might be awakened
in my favour.
We have had a long conversation. Her distance and reserve are much less
than they were. She blames yet pities me. I have been very communicative,
and have offered her the perusal of all the letters that I have lately
received from Mrs. Talbot as vouchers for my sincerity.
She listened favourably to my account of the unhappy misapprehensions
into which Mrs. Fielder had fallen. She was disposed to be more severe on
Miss Jessup's imposture than even my irritated passions had been.
She would not admit that Mrs. Fielder's antipathy to my alliance with
her daughter was without just grounds. She thought that everlasting
separation was best for us both. A total change of my opinions on moral
subjects might perhaps, in time, subdue the mother's aversion to me; but
this change must necessarily be slow and gradual. I was indeed already,
from my own account, far from being principled against religion; but this
was only a basis whereon to build the hope of future amendment. No present
merit could be founded on my doubts.
I spared not myself in my account of former follies. The recital made
her very solemn. I had--I had, indeed, been very faulty; my present
embarrassments were the natural and just consequences of my misconduct. I
had not merited a different destiny. I was unworthy of the love of such a
woman as Jane. I was not qualified to make her happy. I ought to submit to
banishment, not only as to a punishment justly incurred, but in gratitude
to one whose genuine happiness, taking into view her mother's character
and the sacrifices to which her choice of me would subject her, would be
most effectually consulted by my exile.
This was an irksome lesson. She had the candour not to expect my
cordial concurrence in such sentiments, yet endeavoured in her artless
manner to enforce them. She did not content herself with placing the
matter in this light. She still continued to commend the design of a
distant voyage, even should I intend one day to return. The scheme was
likely to produce health and pleasure to me. It offered objects which a
rational curiosity must hold dear. The interval might not pass away
unpropitiously to me. Time might effect desirable changes in Mrs.
Fielder's sentiments and views. A thousand accidents might occur to level
those obstacles which were now insuperable. Pity and complacency might
succeed to abhorrence and scorn. Gratitude and admiration for the
patience, meekness, and self-sacrifices of the daughter might gradually
bring about the voluntary surrender of her enmities; besides, that event
must one day come which will place her above the influence of all mortal
cares and passions.
These conversations have not been without their influence. Yes, my
friend, my mind is less gloomy and tumultuous than it was. I look forward
to this voyage with stronger hopes.
Methinks I would hear once more from Jane. Could she be persuaded
cheerfully to acquiesce in her mother's will; reserve herself for
fortunate contingencies; confide in my fidelity; and find her content in
the improvement of her time and fortune, in befriending the destitute,
relieving, by her superfluities, the needy, and consoling the afflicted by
her sympathy, advice, and succour, would she not derive happiness from
these sources, though disappointed in the wish nearest her heart?
Might I not have expected a letter ere this? But she knows not where I
am,--probably imagines me at my father's house. Shall I not venture to
write? a last and long farewell? Yet have I not said already all that the
occasion will justify? But, if I would write, I know not how to address
her. It seems she has not gone to New York. Her mother has a friend in
Jersey, whither she prevailed on Jane to accompany her. I suppose it would
be no arduous undertaking to trace her footsteps and gain an interview,
and perhaps I shall find the temptation irresistible.
Stephen has just now told me, by letter, that he sails in ten days.
There will be time enough to comply with your friendly invitation. My
sister and you may expect to see me by Saturday night. In the arms of my
true friends, I will endeavour to forget the vexations that at present
prey upon the peace of