Philadelphia, October 7.
It is with extreme reluctance that I venture to address you in this
manner. I cannot find words to account for or apologize. But, if you be
indeed the sister of Henry Golden, you cannot be ignorant of me, and of
former transactions between us, and especially the circumstance that now
compels me to write: you can be no stranger to his present situation.
Can you forgive this boldness in an absolute stranger to your person
but not to your virtues? I have heard much of you, from one in whom I once
had a little interest; who honoured me with his affection.
I know that you lately possessed a large share of that affection. I
doubt not that you still retain it, and are able to tell me what has
become of him.
I have a long time struggled with myself and my fears in silence. I
know how unbecoming this address must appear to you, and yet, persuaded
that my character and my relation to your brother are well known to you, I
have been able to curb my anxieties no longer.
Do then, my dearest madam, gratify my curiosity, and tell me, without
delay, what has become of your brother.