Who do you think is writing to
you? Why, it is your old friend, metamorphosed
into a married man! You &longs;tare, and can
hardly credit the a&longs;&longs;ertion. I cannot realize
it my&longs;elf; yet, I a&longs;&longs;ure you, Charles, it is
ab&longs;olutely true! Nece&longs;&longs;ity, dire nece&longs;&longs;ity, forced
me into this dernier re&longs;ort. I told you, &longs;ome
time ago, it would come to this.

I &longs;tood aloof, as long as po&longs;&longs;ible; but in
vain did I attempt to &longs;hun the noo&longs;e. I mu&longs;t

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either fly to this re&longs;ource; or give up all my
&longs;how, equipage, and plea&longs;ure, and degenerate
into a downright plodding money-catcher, for
a &longs;ub&longs;i&longs;tance. I cho&longs;e the fir&longs;t; and who
would not? yet I feel &longs;ome remor&longs;e at taking
the girl to wife, from no better motives. She
is really too good for &longs;uch an impo&longs;ition. But
&longs;he mu&longs;t blame her&longs;elf, if &longs;he &longs;uffer hereafter;
for &longs;he was vi&longs;ibly captivated by my external
appearance; and wanted but very little solicitation
to confer her&longs;elf, and fortune on &longs;o
charming a fellow. Her parents oppo&longs;ed her
inclination, for a while, becau&longs;e I was a stranger,
and rather too gay for their ta&longs;te. But
&longs;he had not been u&longs;ed to contradiction, and
could not bear it; and therefore they ventured
not to cro&longs;s her. So I bore off the prize;
and a prize &longs;he really is. Five thou&longs;and pounds
in po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion, and more in rever&longs;ion, if I do
not forfeit it. This will compen&longs;ate for &longs;ome
of my pa&longs;t mi&longs;takes, and &longs;et matters right
for the pre&longs;ent. I think it doing much better
than to have taken the little Laurence girl, I
told you of, with half the &longs;um. Be&longs;ides, my
Nancy is a hand&longs;omer, and more agreeable
per&longs;on. But that is of little con&longs;equence to
me, you know. “Beauty &longs;oon grows familiar
to the lover.” Were I a lover, it would
be of no great avail. A lover I am; yet not
of my wife. The dart which I received from
Mi&longs;s Wharton, &longs;ticks fa&longs;t in my heart; and I

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a&longs;&longs;ure you, I could hardly per&longs;uade my&longs;elf
even to appear unfaithful to her. O, Eliza,
accu&longs;e me not of infidelity; for your image
is my con&longs;tant companion! A thou&longs;and times
have I cur&longs;ed the unpropitious &longs;tars, which
withheld from her a fortune. That would
have enabled me to marry her; and with her,
even wedlock would have been &longs;upportable.

I am told, that &longs;he is &longs;till &longs;ingle. Her sober
lover never returned. Had he loved as I
did, and do, he could not have been &longs;o precipitate.
But the&longs;e &longs;toic &longs;ouls are good for nothing,
that I know of, but


“Fix'd like a plant, to one peculiar &longs;pot,
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot.”

I want to &longs;ee Eliza, and I mu&longs;t &longs;ee her; yet
I dread an interview. I &longs;hall frankly confe&longs;s
my motives for marrying; and the rea&longs;ons of
my conduct, before I went away. I &longs;hall own
that my circum&longs;tances would not allow me to
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s her; and yet that I could not re&longs;ign
her to another.

When I make up the matter with her, I
&longs;hall &longs;olicit her friend&longs;hip for my wife. By
this mean I may enjoy her &longs;ociety, at lea&longs;t,
which will alleviate the con&longs;inement of a married
&longs;tate. To my &longs;pou&longs;e I mu&longs;t be as civil as
po&longs;&longs;ible. I really wi&longs;h &longs;he had le&longs;s merit, that
I might have a plau&longs;ible excu&longs;e for neglecting
her.

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Tomorrow I &longs;hall go to Mrs. Wharton's. I
am very much taken up with complimental
vi&longs;its, at pre&longs;ent. What deference is always
paid to equipage! They may talk of this virtue,
their learning, and what not; but without
either of them, I &longs;hall bear off the palm of
re&longs;pect from tho&longs;e, who have them, unadorned
with gold, and its &longs;hining appendages.

Every thing hereabouts recals Eliza to my
mind. I impatiently anticipate the hour, which
will convey me to her pre&longs;ence.

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