I mention not fortunes squandered, estates mortgaged or sold, and
posterity robbed--nor yet a multitude of other evils, too gross, too
shocking, to be mentioned to a person of your delicacy.
All these, my dear cousin, to be shunned, all the evils I have named to
be avoided; the power of doing all the good you have been accustomed to,
preserved, nay, increased, by the separate provision that will be made
for you: your charming diversions, and exemplary employments, all
maintained; and every good habit perpetuated: and all by one sacrifice,
the fading pleasure of the eye! who would not, (since every thing is not
to be met with in one man, who would not,) to preserve so many
essentials, give up to light, so unpermanent a pleasure!
Weigh all these things, which I might insist upon to more advantage, did
I think it needful to one of your prudence--weigh them well, my beloved
cousin; and if it be not the will of your parents that you should
continue single, resolve to oblige them; and let it not be said that the
powers of fancy shall (as in many others of your sex) be too hard for
your duty and your prudence. The less agreeable the man, the more
obliging the compliance. Remember, that he is a sober man--a man who has
reputation to lose, and whose reputation therefore is a security for his
good behaviour to you.
You have an opportunity offered you to give the highest instance that can
be given of filial duty. Embrace it. It is worthy of you. It is
expected from you; however, for your inclination-sake, we may be sorry
that you are called upon to give it. Let it be said that you have been
able to lay an obligation upon your parents, (a proud word, my cousin!)
which you could not do, were it not laid against your inclination!--upon
parents who have laid a thousand upon you: who are set upon this point:
who will not give it up: who have given up many points to you, even of
this very nature: and in their turn, for the sake of their own authority,
as well as judgment, expect to be obliged.
I hope I shall soon, in person, congratulate you upon this your
meritorious compliance. To settle and give up my trusteeship is one of
the principal motives of my leaving these parts. I shall be glad to
settle it to every one's satisfaction; to yours particularly.
If on my arrival I find a happy union, as formerly, reign in a family so
dear to me, it will be an unspeakable pleasure to me; and I shall perhaps
so dispose my affairs, as to be near you for ever.
I have written a very long letter, and will add no more, than that I am,
with the greatest respect, my dearest cousin,
Your most affectionate and faithful servant,
WM. MORDEN.
***
I will suppose, my dear Miss Howe, that you have read my cousin's letter.
It is now in vain to wish it had come sooner. But if it had, I might
perhaps have been so rash as to give Mr. Lovelace the fatal meeting, as I
little thought of going away with him.
But I should hardly have given him the expectation of so doing, previous
to the meeting, which made him come prepared; and the revocation of which
he so artfully made ineffectual.
Persecuted as I was, and little expecting so much condescension, as my
aunt, to my great mortification, has told me (and you confirm) I should
have met with, it is, however, hard to say what I should or should not
have done as to meeting him, had it come in time: but this effect I
verily believe it would have had--to have made me insist with all my
might on going over, out of all their ways, to the kind writer of the
instructive letter, and on making a father (a protector, as well as a
friend) of a kinsman, who is one of my trustees. This, circumstanced as
I was, would have been a natural, at least an unexceptionable protection!
--But I was to be unhappy! and how it cuts me to the heart to think, that
I can already subscribe to my cousin's character of a libertine, so well
drawn in the letter which I suppose you now to have read!
That a man of a character which ever was my abhorrence should fall to my
lot!--But, depending on my own strength; having no reason to apprehend
danger from headstrong and disgraceful impulses; I too little perhaps
cast up my eyes to the Supreme Director: in whom, mistrusting myself, I
ought to have placed my whole confidence--and the more, when I saw myself
so perserveringly addressed by a man of this character.
Inexperience and presumption, with the help of a brother and sister who
have low ends to answer in my disgrace, have been my ruin!--A hard word,
my dear! but I repeat it upon deliberation: since, let the best happen
which now can happen, my reputation is destroyed; a rake is my portion:
and what that portion is my cousin Morden's letter has acquainted you.
Pray keep it by you till called for. I saw it not myself (having not the
heart to inspect my trunks) till this morning. I would not for the world
this man should see it; because it might occasion mischief between the
most violent spirit, and the most settled brave one in the world, as my
cousin's is said to be.
This letter was enclosed (opened) in a blank cover. Scorn and detest me
as they will, I wonder that one line was not sent with it--were it but to
have more particularly pointed the design of it, in the same generous
spirit that sent me the spira.
The sealing of the cover was with black wax. I hope there is no new
occasion in the family to give reason for black wax. But if there were,
it would, to be sure, have been mentioned, and laid at my door--perhaps
too justly!
I had begun a letter to my cousin; but laid it by, because of the
uncertainty of my situation, and expecting every day for several days
past to be at a greater certainty. You bid me write to him some time
ago, you know. Then it was I began it: for I have great pleasure in
obeying you in all I may. So I ought to have; for you are the only
friend left me. And, moreover, you generally honour me with your own
observance of the advice I take the liberty to offer you: for I pretend
to say, I give better advice than I have taken. And so I had need. For,
I know not how it comes about, but I am, in my own opinion, a poor lost
creature: and yet cannot charge myself with one criminal or faulty
inclination. Do you know, my dear, how this can be?
Yet I can tell you how, I believe--one devious step at setting out!--
that must be it:--which pursued, has led me so far out of my path, that I
am in a wilderness of doubt and error; and never, never, shall find my
way out of it: for, although but one pace awry at first, it has led me
hundreds and hundreds of miles out of my path: and the poor estray has
not one kind friend, nor has met with one direct passenger, to help her
to recover it.
But I, presumptuous creature! must rely so much upon my own knowledge of
the right path!--little apprehending that an ignus fatuus with its false
fires (and ye I had heard enough of such) would arise to mislead me! And
now, in the midst of fens and quagmires, it plays around me, and around
me, throwing me back again, whenever I think myself in the right track.
But there is one common point, in which all shall meet, err widely as
they may. In that I shall be laid quietly down at last: and then will
all my calamities be at an end.
But how I stray again; stray from my intention! I would only have said,
that I had begun a letter to my cousin Morden some time ago: but that now
I can never end it. You will believe I cannot: for how shall I tell him
that all his compliments are misbestowed? that all his advice is thrown
away? all his warnings vain? and that even my highest expectation is to
be the wife of that free-liver, whom he so pathetically warns me to shun?
Let me own, however, have your prayers joined with my own, (my fate
depending, as it seems, upon the lips of such a man) 'that, whatever
shall be my destiny, that dreadful part of my father's malediction, that
I may be punished by the man in whom he supposes I put my confidence, may
not take place! that this for Mr. Lovelace's own sake, and for the sake
of human nature, may not be! or, if it be necessary, in support of the
parental authority, that I should be punished by him, that it may not be
by his premeditated or wilful baseness; but that I may be able to acquit
his intention, if not his action!' Otherwise, my fault will appear to be
doubled in the eye of the event-judging world. And yet, methinks, I
would be glad that the unkindness of my father and uncles, whose hearts
have already been too much wounded by my error, may be justified in every
article, excepting in this heavy curse: and that my father will be
pleased to withdraw that before it be generally known: at least the most
dreadful part of it which regards futurity!
I must lay down my pen. I must brood over these reflections. Once more,
before I close my cousin's letter, I will peruse it. And then I shall
have it by heart.