Jane Talbot Part 20

"Then, pray, sir, on what are built your pretensions to my sister?"

"Really, sir, they are built on _nothing_. I am, in every respect, immeasurably her inferior. I possess not a single merit that ent.i.tles me to grace from her."

"I have surely not been misinformed. She tacitly admitted that she was engaged to be your wife."

"'Tis very true. She is so."

"But what, then, is the basis of this engagement?"

"Mutual affection, I believe, is the only basis. n.o.body who knows Jane Talbot will need to ask why she is beloved. Why she requites that pa.s.sion in the present case, is a question which she only can answer."

"Her pa.s.sion, sir," (contemptuously,) "is the freak of a child; of folly and caprice. By your own confession you are beggarly and worthless, and therefore it becomes you to relinquish your claim."

"I have no claim to relinquish. I have urged no claims. On the contrary, I have fully disclosed to her every folly and vice that cleaves to my character."

"You know, sir, what I mean."

"I am afraid not perfectly. If you mean that I should profess myself unworthy of your sister's favour, 'tis done. It has been done a hundred times."

"My meaning, sir, is simply this: that you, from this moment, give up every expectation of being the husband of Mrs. Talbot. That you return to her every letter and paper that has pa.s.sed between you; that you drop all intercourse and correspondence."

I was obliged to stifle a laugh which this whimsical proposal excited.

I continued, through this whole dialogue, to regard my companion with a steadfast and cheerful gravity.

"These are injunctions," said I, "that will hardly meet with compliance, unless, indeed, they were imposed by the lady herself. I shall always have a supreme regard for her happiness; and whatever path she points out to me, I will walk in it."

"But _this_ is the path in which her true interest requires you to walk."

"I have not yet discovered that to be _her_ opinion; the moment I do, I will walk in it accordingly."

"No matter what _her_ opinion is. She is froward and obstinate. It is my opinion that her true happiness requires all connection between you to cease from this moment."

"After all, sir, though, where judgments differ, one only can be right, yet each person must be permitted to follow his own. You would hardly, I imagine, allow your sister to prescribe to you in your marriage choice, and I fear she will lay claim to the same independence for herself. If you can convert her to your way of thinking, it is well. I solemnly engage to do whatever she directs."

"This is insolence. You trifle with me. You pretend to misconstrue my meaning."

"When you charge me with insolence, I think you afford pretty strong proof that you mistake _my_ meaning. I have not the least intention to offend you."

"Let me be explicit with you. Do you instantly and absolutely resign all pretensions to my sister?"

"I will endeavour to be explicit in my turn. Your sister, notwithstanding my defects and disadvantages, offers me her love, vows to be mine. I accept her love; she is mine; nor need we to discuss the matter any further."

This, however, by no means put an end to altercation. I told him I was willing to hear all that he had to say upon the subject. If truth were on his side, it was possible he might reason me into a concurrence with him.

In compliance with this concession, he dwelt on the benefits which his sister would receive from accompanying him to France, and the mutual sorrow, debas.e.m.e.nt, and perplexity likely to flow from a union between us, unsanctioned by the approbation of our common friends.

"The purpose of all this is to prove," said I, "that affluence and dignity without me will be more conducive to your sister's happiness than obscurity and indigence _with_ me."

It was.

"Happiness is mere matter of opinion; perhaps Jane thinks already as you do."

He allowed that he had talked with you ineffectually on that subject.

"I think myself bound to believe her in a case where she is the proper judge, and shall eagerly consent to make her happy in her own way.

_That_, sir, is my decision."

I will not repeat the rest of our conversation. Your letters have given me some knowledge of your brother, and I endeavoured by the mildness, sedateness, and firmness of my carriage to elude those extremes to which his domineering pa.s.sions were likely to carry him. I carefully avoided every thing that tended in the least to exasperate. He was p.r.o.ne enough to rage, but I quietly submitted to all that he could say. I was sincerely rejoiced when the conference came to an end.

Whence came your brother thus abruptly? Have you seen him? Yet he told me that you had. Alas! what must you have suffered from his impetuosity!

I look with impatience for your next letter, in which you will tell what has happened.

Letter x.x.xIII

_To Henry Colden_

Philadelphia, November 17.

I have just sent you a letter, but my restless spirit can find no relief but in writing.

I torment myself without end in imagining what took place at your meeting with my brother. I rely upon your equanimity; yet to what an insupportable test will my brother's pa.s.sions subject you! In how many ways have I been the cause of pain and humiliation to you! Heaven, I hope, will some time grant me the power to compensate yon for all that I have culpably or innocently made you suffer.

What's this? A letter from my brother! The superscription is his.

Let me hasten, my friend, to give you a copy of this strange epistle.

It has neither date nor signature.

"I have talked with the man whom you have chosen to play the fool with.

I find him worthy of his mistress; a tame, coward-hearted, infatuated blockhead.

"It was silly to imagine that any arguments would have weight with you or with him. I have got my journey for my pains. Fain would I have believed that you were worthy of a different situation; but I dismiss that belief, and shall henceforth leave you to pursue your own dirty road, without interruption.

"Had you opened your eyes to your true interest, I think I could have made something of you. My wealth and my influence should not have been spared in placing you in a station worthy of my sister. Every one, however, must take his own way,--though it lead him into a slough or a ditch.

"I intended to have virtually divided my fortune with you; to have raised you to princely grandeur. But no; you are enamoured of the dirt, and may cling to it as closely as you please.

"It is but justice, however, to pay what I owe you. I remember I borrowed several sums of you; the whole amounted to fifteen hundred dollars. _There_ they are, and much good may they do you. That sum and the remnant which I left you may perhaps set the good man up in a village shop,--may purchase an a.s.sortment of tapes, porringers, and twelve-to-the-pound candles. The gleanings of the year may find you in skimmed milk and hasty pudding three times a day, and you may enjoy between whiles the delectable amus.e.m.e.nts of mending your husband's stockings at one time, and serving a neighbour with a pennyworth of snuff at another.

"Fare thee well, Jane. Farewell forever; for it must be a stronger inducement than can possibly happen, that shall ever bring me back to this land. I would see you ere I go, but we shall only scold; so, once more, farewell, simpleton."

What think you of this letter? The enclosed bills were most unexpected and acceptable presents. I am now twice as rich as I was. This visit of my brother I was disposed to regret, but on the whole I ought, I think, to regard it with satisfaction. By thus completely repairing the breach made in my little patrimony, it has placed me in as good a situation as I ever hoped to enjoy; besides, it has removed from my brother's character some of the stains which used to discolour it. Ought I not to believe him sincere in his wishes to do me service? We cannot agree exactly in our notion of duty or happiness, but that difference takes not away from him the merit of a generous intention. He would have done me good in his way.