She thanked me for my communication of the preceding night. I read to
her such parts of your letters as I could read to her; and I thought it
was a good test to distinguish the froth and whipt-syllabub in them from
the cream, in what one could and could not read to a woman of so fine a
mind; since four parts out of six of thy letters, which I thought
entertaining as I read them to myself, appeared to me, when I should have
read them to her, most abominable stuff, and gave me a very contemptible
idea of thy talents, and of my own judgment.
She as far from rejoicing, as I had done, at the disappointment her
letter gave you when explained.
She said, she meant only an innocent allegory, which might carry
instruction and warning to you, when the meaning was taken, as well as
answer her own hopes for the time. It was run off in a hurry. She was
afraid it was not quite right in her. But hoped the end would excuse (if
it could not justify) the means. And then she again expressed a good
deal of apprehension lest you should still take it into your head to
molest her, when her time, she said, was so short, that she wanted every
moment of it; repeating what she had once said before, that, when she
wrote, she was so ill that she believed she should not have lived till
now: if she had thought she should, she must have studied for an
expedient that would have better answered her intentions. Hinting at a
removal out of the knowledge of us both.
But she was much pleased that the conference between you and Colonel
Morden, after two or three such violent sallies, as I acquainted her you
had had between you, ended so amicably; and said she must absolutely
depend upon the promise I had given her to use my utmost endeavours to
prevent farther mischief on her account.
She was pleased with the justice you did her character to her cousin.
She was glad to hear that he had so kind an opinion of her, and that he
would write to her.
I was under an unnecessary concern, how to break to her that I had the
copy of Brand's vile letter: unnecessary, I say; for she took it just as
you thought she would, as an excuse she wished to have for the
implacableness of her friends; and begged I would let her read it
herself; for, said she, the contents cannot disturb me, be they what they
will.
I gave it to her, and she read it to herself; a tear now and then being
ready to start, and a sigh sometimes interposing.
She gave me back the letter with great and surprising calmness,
considering the subject.
There was a time, said she, and that not long since, when such a letter
as this would have greatly pained me. But I hope I have now go above all
these things: and I can refer to your kind offices, and to those of Miss
Howe, the justice that will be done to my memory among my friends. There
is a good and a bad light in which every thing that befalls us may be
taken. If the human mind will busy itself to make the worst of every
disagreeable occurrence, it will never want woe. This letter, affecting
as the subject of it is to my reputation, gives me more pleasure than
pain, because I can gather from it, that had not my friends been
prepossessed by misinformed or rash and officious persons, who are always
at hand to flatter or soothe the passions of the affluent, they could not
have been so immovably determined against me. But now they are
sufficiently cleared from every imputation of unforgivingness; for, while
I appeared to them in the character of a vile hypocrite, pretending to
true penitence, yet giving up myself to profligate courses, how could I
expect either their pardon or blessing?
But, Madam, said I, you'll see by the date of this letter, that their
severity, previous to that, cannot be excused by it.
It imports me much, replied she, on account of my present wishes, as to
the office you are so kind to undertake, that you should not think
harshly of my friends. I must own to you, that I have been apt sometimes
myself to think them not only severe but cruel. Suffering minds will be
partial to their own cause and merits. Knowing their own hearts, if
sincere, they are apt to murmur when harshly treated: But, if they are
not believed to be innocent, by persons who have a right to decide upon
their conduct according to their own judgments, how can it be helped?
Besides, Sir, how do you know, that there are not about my friends as
well-meaning misrepresenters as Mr. Brand really seems to be? But, be
this as it will, there is no doubt that there are and have been
multitudes of persons, as innocent as myself, who have suffered upon
surmises as little probable as those on which Mr. Brand founds his
judgment. Your intimacy, Sir, with Mr. Lovelace, and (may I say?) a
character which, it seems, you have been less solicitous formerly to
justify than perhaps you will be for the future, and your frequent visits
to me may well be thought to be questionable circumstances in my conduct.