Jane Talbot Part 8

What more can I say? You are my nearest relation; not my daughter, it is true; but, since I have not any other kindred, you are more than a daughter to me. That love, which a numerous family or kindred would divide among themselves, is all collected and centred in you. The ties between us have long ceased to be artificial ones, and I feel, in all respects, as if you actually owed your being to me.

You have hitherto consulted my pleasure but little. I have all the rights, in regard to you, of a mother, but these have been hitherto despised or unacknowledged. I once regarded you as the natural successor to my property; and, though your conduct has forfeited these claims, I now tell you (and you know that my word is sacred) that all I have shall be yours, on condition that Colden is dismissed.

More than this I will do. Every a.s.surance possible I will give, that all shall be yours at my death, and all I have I will share with you _equally_ while I live. Only give me your word that, _as soon_ as the transfer is made, Colden shall be thought of and conversed with, either personally or by letter, no more. I want only your promise; on that I will absolutely rely.

Mere lucre ought not, perhaps, to influence you in such a case; and if you comply through regard to my peace or your own reputation, I shall certainly esteem you more highly than if you are determined by the present offer; yet such is my aversion to this alliance, that the hour in which I hear of your consent to the conditions which I now propose to you will be esteemed one of the happiest of my life.

Think of it, my dear Jane, my friend, my child; think of it. Take time to reflect, and let me have a deliberate answer, such as will remove the fears that at present afflict, beyond my power of expression, your

H. FIELDER.

Letter XI

_To Mrs. Fielder_

Philadelphia, October 15.

I have several times taken up the pen, but my distress has compelled me to lay it down again. Heaven is my witness that the happiness of my revered mamma is dearer to me than my own; no struggle was ever greater between my duty to you and the claims of another.

Will you not permit me to explain my conduct? will you not acquaint me with the reasons of your aversion to my friend?--let me call him by that name. Such, indeed, has he been to me,--the friend of my understanding and my virtue. My soul's friend; since, to suffer, without guilt, in this world, ent.i.tles us to peace in another, and since to him I owe that I have not been a guilty as well as an unfortunate creature.

Whatever conduct I pursue with regard to him, I must always consider him in this light; at least, till your proofs against him are heard. Let me hear them, I beseech you. Have compa.s.sion on the anguish of your poor girl, and reconcile, if possible, _my_ duty to _your_ inclination, by stating what you know to his disadvantage. You must have causes for your enmity, which you hide from me. Indeed, you tell me that you have; you say that if I knew them they would determine me. Let then every motive be set aside through regard to my happiness, and disclose to me this secret.

While I am ignorant of these charges, while all that I know of Colden tends to endear his happiness to me, and while his happiness depends upon my acceptance of his vows, _can_ I, _ought_ I, to reject him?

Place yourself in my situation. You once loved and was once beloved. I am, indeed, your child. I glory in the name which you have had the goodness to bestow upon me. Think and feel for your child, in her present unhappy circ.u.mstances; in which she does not balance between happiness and misery,--that alternative, alas! is not permitted,--but is anxious to discover which path has fewest thorns, and in which her duty will allow her to walk.

How greatly do you humble me, and how strongly evince your aversion to Colden, by offering, as the price of his rejection, half your property!

How low am I fallen in your esteem, since you think it possible for such a bribe to prevail! and what calamities must this alliance seem to threaten, since the base selfishness of accepting this offer is better, in your eyes, than my marriage!

Sure I never was unhappy till now. Pity me, my mother. Condescend to write to me again, and, by disclosing all your objections to Colden, reconcile, I earnestly entreat you, my duty to your inclination.

JANE TALBOT.

Letter XII

_To Mrs. Fielder_

Philadelphia, October 17.

You will not write to me. Your messenger a.s.sures me that you have cast me from your thoughts forever; you will speak to me and see me no more.

That must not be. I am preparing, inclement as the season is, to pay you a visit. Unless you shut your door against me I _will_ see you.

You will not turn me out of doors, I hope.

I will see you and compel you to answer me, and to tell me why you will not admit my friend to your good opinion.

J. TALBOT.

Letter XIII

_To Jane Talbot_

New York, October 19.

You need not come to see me, Jane. I will not see you. Lay me not under the cruel necessity of shutting my door against you, for _that_ must be the consequence of your attempt.

After reading your letter, and seeing full proof of your infatuation, I resolved to throw away my care no longer upon you; to think no more of you; to act just as if you never had existence; whenever it was possible, to shun you; when I met you, by chance, or perforce, to treat you merely as a stranger. I write this letter to acquaint you with my resolution.

Your future letters cannot change it, for they shall all be returned to you unopened.

I know you better than to trust to the appearance of half-yielding reluctance which your letter contains. Thus it has always been, and as often as this duteous strain flattered me with hopes of winning you to reason, have I been deceived and disappointed.

I trust to your discernment, your seeming humility, no longer. No child are you of mine. You have, henceforth, no part in my blood; and may I very soon forget that so lost and betrayed a wretch ever belonged to it!

I charge you, write not to me again. H.F.

Letter XIV

_To Mrs. Fielder_

Philadelphia, October 24.

Impossible! Are you not my mother?--more to me than any mother? Did I not receive your protection and instruction in my infancy and my childhood? When left an orphan by my own mother, your bosom was open to receive me. _There_ was the helpless babe cherished, and there was it taught all that virtue which it has since endeavoured to preserve unimpaired in every trial.

You must not cast me off. You must not hate me. You must not call me ungrateful and a wretch. Not to have merited these names is all that enables me to endure your displeasure. As long as that belief consoles me, my heart will not break.

Yet that, even that, will not much avail me. The distress that I now feel, that I have felt ever since the receipt of your letter, cannot be increased.

You forbid me to write to you; but I cannot forbear as long as there is hope of extorting from you the cause of your aversion to my friend. I solicit not this disclosure with a view or even in the hope of repelling your objections. I want, I had almost said, I _want_ to share your antipathies. I want only to be justified in obeying you. When known, they will, perhaps, be found sufficient. I conjure you once more, tell me your objections to this marriage.

As well as I can, I have examined myself. Pa.s.sion may influence me, but I am unconscious of its influence. I think I act with no exclusive regard to my own pleasure, but as it flows from and is dependent on the happiness of others.

If I am mistaken in my notions of duty, G.o.d forbid that I should shut my ears against good counsel. Instead of loathing or shunning it, I am anxious to hear it. I know my own short-sighted folly, my slight experience. I know how apt I am to go astray, how often my own heart deceives me; and hence I always am in search of better knowledge; hence I listen to admonition, not only with docility, but grat.i.tude. My inclination ought, perhaps, to be absolutely neuter; but, if I know myself, it is with reluctance that I withhold my a.s.sent from the expostulator. I am delighted to receive conviction from the arguments of those that love me.