Oh, my friend! I have a tale to unfold;
a tale which will rend every nerve of
&longs;ympathizing pity, which will rack the brea&longs;t
of &longs;en&longs;ibility, and un&longs;peakably di&longs;tre&longs;s your
benevolent heart! Eliza—Oh the ruined, lo&longs;t
Eliza!

I want words to expre&longs;s the emotions of indignation,
and grier which oppre&longs;s me! But
I will endeavor to compo&longs;e my&longs;elf; and relate
the circum&longs;tances as they came to my
knowledge.

[figure description] Page 215.[end figure description]

After my la&longs;t letter, Eliza remained much
in the &longs;ame gloomy &longs;ituation as I found her.
She refu&longs;ed to go, agreeably to her promi&longs;e, to
vi&longs;it your mamma; and under one pretext
or another, has con&longs;tantly declined accompanying
me any where el&longs;e, &longs;ince my arrival.

Till la&longs;t Thur&longs;day night &longs;he &longs;lept in the
&longs;ame bed with me; when &longs;he excu&longs;ed her&longs;elf,
by &longs;aying &longs;he was re&longs;tle&longs;s, and &longs;hould di&longs;turb
my repo&longs;e. I yeilded to her humor of taking
a different apartment, little &longs;u&longs;pecting
the real cau&longs;e! She frequently walked cut;
and though I &longs;ometimes followed, I very seldom
found her. Two or three times, when I
happened to be awake, I heard her go down
&longs;tairs; and on inquiry in the morning, &longs;he
told me that &longs;he was very thir&longs;ty, and went
down for water. I ob&longs;erved, a degree of hesitancy
in her an&longs;wers, for which I could not
account. But la&longs;t night, the dreadful my&longs;tery
was developed! A little before day, I heard
the front door opened with great caution.
I &longs;prang from my bed, and running to the
window, &longs;aw by the light of the moon, a man
going from the hou&longs;e. Soon after I perceived
a foot&longs;tep upon the &longs;tairs, which carefully
approached and entered Eliza's chamber.

Judge of my a&longs;toni&longs;hment, my &longs;urpri&longs;e, my
feelings, upon this ecca&longs;ion! I doubted not but
Major Sanford was the per&longs;on I had &longs;een;
and the di&longs;covery of Eliza's guilt, in this

[figure description] Page 216.[end figure description]

infamous intrigue, almo&longs;t deprived me of
thought and recollection! My blood thrilled
with horror at this &longs;acrifice of virtue! After
a while I recovered my&longs;elf, and put on
my clothes. But what to do, I knew not;
whether to go directly to her chamber, and
let her know that &longs;he was detected; or to
wait another opportunity.

I re&longs;olved on the fir&longs;t. The day had now
dawned. I tapped at her door; and &longs;he bid
me come in. She was &longs;itting in an ea&longs;y chair
by the &longs;ide of her bed. As I entered &longs;he
withdrew her handkerchief from her face;
and looking earne&longs;tly at me, &longs;aid, what procures
me the favor of a vi&longs;it, at this early
hour, Mi&longs;s Granby? I was di&longs;turbed, &longs;aid I,
and wi&longs;hed not to return to my bed. But
what breaks your re&longs;t; and calls you up &longs;o
un&longs;ea&longs;onably, Eliza? Remor&longs;e, and de&longs;pair,
an&longs;wered &longs;he, weeping. After what I have
witne&longs;&longs;ed, this morning, rejoined I, I cannot
wonder at it! Was it not Major Sanford
whom I &longs;aw go from the hou&longs;e &longs;ome time
ago? She was &longs;ilent, but tears flowed abundantly.
It is too late, continued I, to deny,
or evade. An&longs;wer my que&longs;tion &longs;incerely; for,
believe me, Eliza, it is not malice, but concern
for you, which prompts it. I will an&longs;wer
you, Julia, &longs;aid &longs;he. You have discovered
a &longs;ecret, which harrows up my very &longs;oul!
A &longs;ecret, which I wi&longs;hed you to know, but

[figure description] Page 217.[end figure description]

could not exert re&longs;olution to reveal! Yes!
It was Major Sanford; the man who has
robbed me of my peace; who has triumphed
in my de&longs;truction; and who will cau&longs;e my
&longs;un to &longs;it at noon!

I &longs;hudder, &longs;aid I, at your confe&longs;&longs;ion!
Wretched, deluded girl! Is this a return for
your parent's love, and a&longs;&longs;duous care; for
your friends' &longs;olicitude, and premonitory advice?
You are ruined, you &longs;ay! You have
&longs;acrificed your virtue to an abandoned, despicable
profligate! And you live to acknowledge
and bear your infamy! I do, &longs;aid &longs;he;
but not long &longs;hall I &longs;upport this burden! See
you not, Julia, my decaying frame, my &longs;aded
cheek, and tottering limbs? Soon &longs;hall I be insensible
to cen&longs;ure and reproach! Soon &longs;hall I
be &longs;eque&longs;tered in that man&longs;ion, “where the
wicked cea&longs;e from troubling, and where the
weary are at re&longs;t!” Re&longs;t! &longs;aid I, can you
expect to find re&longs;t either in this world, or
another, with &longs;uch a weight of guilt on your
head? She exclaimed, with great emotion,
add not to the upbraidings of a wounded
&longs;pirit! Have pity upon me, Oh! my friend,
have pity upon me!

Could you know what I &longs;uffer, you would
think me &longs;ufficiently puni&longs;hed! I wi&longs;h you no
other puni&longs;hment, &longs;aid I, than what may effect
your repentance and reformation. But your
mother, Eliza! She cannot long be ignorant of

[figure description] Page 218.[end figure description]

your fall; and I tremble to think of her distress!
It will break her widowed heart!
How has &longs;he loved; how has &longs;he doated upon
you! Dreadful is the requital which you
have made! My mother, rejoined &longs;he—Oh,
name her not! The very found is di&longs;traction
to me! Oh! my Julia, if your heart be
not &longs;hut again&longs;t mercy and compa&longs;&longs;ion towards
me, aid me through this trying &longs;cene!
Let my &longs;ituation call forth your pity, and induce
you, unde&longs;erving as I am, to exert it in
my behalf!

During this time, I had walked the chamber.
My &longs;pirits had been rai&longs;ed above their
natural key, and were exhau&longs;ted. I &longs;at
down, but thought I &longs;hould have fainted, till
a copious &longs;lood of tears gave me relief. Eliza
was extremely affected. The appearance
of calamity which &longs;he exhibited would have
&longs;oftened the mo&longs;t obdurate anger. Indeed, I
feared &longs;ome immediate and fatal effect. I
therefore &longs;eated my&longs;elf be&longs;ide her; and assuming
an air of kindne&longs;s, compo&longs;e your&longs;elf,
Eliza, &longs;aid I; I repeat what I told you before,
it is the pure&longs;t friend&longs;hip, which thus intere&longs;ts
me in your concerns. This, under the direction
of charity, induces me again to offer you
my hand. Yet you have erred again&longs;t knowledge
and rea&longs;on; again&longs;t warning and
coun&longs;el. You have forfeited the favor of
your friends; and reluctant will be their

[figure description] Page 219.[end figure description]

forgiveness. I plead guilty, &longs;aid &longs;he, to all
your charges. From the general voice I expect
no clemency. If I can make my peace
with my mother, it is all I &longs;eek or wi&longs;h on
this &longs;ide the grave.

In your benevolence I con&longs;ide for this. In
you, I hope to find an interce&longs;&longs;or. By the
remembrance of our former affection and happiness,
I conjure you, refu&longs;e me not. At present,
I entreat you to conceal from her this distressing
tale. A &longs;hort reprieve is all I a&longs;k.
Why, &longs;aid I, &longs;hould you defer it? When
the painful ta&longs;k is over, you may find relief in
her lenient kindne&longs;s. After &longs;he knows my
condition, I cannot &longs;ee her, re&longs;umed &longs;he, till I
am a&longs;&longs;ured of her forgivene&longs;s. I have not
&longs;trength to &longs;upport the appearance of her
anger and grief. I will write to her what I
cannot &longs;peak. You mu&longs;t bear the melancholy
me&longs;&longs;age, and plead for me, that her displeasure
may not follow me to the grave; whither
I am rapidly ha&longs;tening. Be a&longs;&longs;ured, replied I,
that I will keep your &longs;ecret as long as prudence
requires. But I mu&longs;t leave you now:
your mamma will wonder at our being thus
clo&longs;etted together. When opportunity presents,
we will conver&longs;e further on the &longs;ubject.
In the mean time, keep your&longs;elf as compo&longs;ed
as po&longs;&longs;ible, if you would avoid &longs;u&longs;picion. She
rai&longs;ed her cla&longs;ped hands, and with a piteous
look, threw her handkerchief over her face,

[figure description] Page 220.[end figure description]

and reclined in her chair, without &longs;peaking a
word. I returned to my chamber, and endeavored
to di&longs;&longs;ipate every idea which might
tend to di&longs;order my countenance, and break
the &longs;ilence I wi&longs;hed to ob&longs;erve, relative to what
had happened.

When I went down, Mrs. Wharton desired
me to &longs;tep up, and inform Eliza that
breakfa&longs;t was ready. She told me &longs;he could
not yet compo&longs;e her&longs;elf &longs;ufficiently to &longs;ee her
mamma; and begged me to excu&longs;e her absence
as I thought proper. I accordingly returned
for an&longs;wer to Mrs. Wharton, that
Eliza had re&longs;ted but indifferently, and being
&longs;omewhat indi&longs;po&longs;ed, would not come down,
but wi&longs;hed me to bring her a bowl of chocolate,
when we had breakfa&longs;ted. I was obliged
&longs;tudiou&longs;ly to &longs;uppre&longs;s even my thoughts
concerning her, left the emotions they excited
might be ob&longs;erved. Mrs. Wharton conversed
much of her daughter, and expre&longs;&longs;ed
great concern about her health and &longs;tate of
mind. Her return to this &longs;tate of dejection,
after having recovered her &longs;pirits and cheerfulness,
in a great degree, was owing, &longs;he
feared, to &longs;ome cau&longs;e unknown to her; and
&longs;he entreated me to extract the &longs;ecret, if
po&longs;&longs;ible. I a&longs;&longs;ured her of my be&longs;t endeavors,
and doubted not, I told her, but I &longs;hould
be able in a few days to effect what &longs;he wi&longs;hed.

Eliza came down and walked in the

[figure description] Page 221.[end figure description]

garden before dinner; at which &longs;he commanded
her&longs;elf much better than I expected. She
&longs;aid that a little ride might, &longs;he imagined, be
of &longs;ervice to her; and a&longs;ked me if I would
accompany her a few miles in the afternoon.
Her mamma was much plea&longs;ed with the
propo&longs;ition; and the chai&longs;e was accordingly
ordered.

I ob&longs;erved to Eliza, as we rode, that with
her natural and acquired abilities, with her
advantages of education, with her opportunities
of knowing the world, and of tracing
the virtues and vices of mankind to their
origin, I was &longs;urpri&longs;ed at her becoming the
prey of an in&longs;idious libertine, with who&longs;e
character &longs;he was well acquainted, and who&longs;e
principles &longs;he was fully appri&longs;ed would prompt
him to deceive and betray her. Your surprise
is very natural, &longs;aid &longs;he. The &longs;ame will
doubtle&longs;s be felt and expre&longs;&longs;ed by every one
to whom my &longs;ad &longs;tory is related. But the
cau&longs;e may be found in that unre&longs;trained levity
of di&longs;po&longs;ition, that fondne&longs;s for di&longs;&longs;ipation
and coquetry which alienated the affections
of Mr. Boyer from me. This event fatally
depre&longs;&longs;ed, and en&longs;eebled my mind. I embraced
with avidity the con&longs;oling power of
friend&longs;hip, en&longs;naringly offered by my &longs;educer;
vainly inferring from his marriage with a virtuous
woman, that he had&longs;een the error of his
ways, and for&longs;aken his licentious practices, as
he affirmed, and I, fool that I was, believed it!

[figure description] Page 222.[end figure description]

It is needle&longs;s for me to rehear&longs;e the persidious
arts, by which he in&longs;inuated him&longs;elf
into my affections, and gained my confidence.
Suffice it to &longs;ay, he effected his purpo&longs;e! But
not long did I continue in the delu&longs;ive dream
of &longs;en&longs;ual gratification. I &longs;oon awoke to a
mo&longs;t poignant &longs;en&longs;e of his ba&longs;ene&longs;s, and of
my own crime and mi&longs;ery. I would have
fled from him; I would have renounced
him for ever; and by a life of &longs;incere humility
and repentance, endeavored to make my
peace with heaven, and to obliterate, by the
rectitude of my future conduct, the guilt I had
incurred; but I found it too late! My circumstances
called for attention; and I had no
one to participate my cares, to witne&longs;s my distress,
and to alleviate my &longs;orrows, but him. I
could not therefore prevail on my&longs;elf, wholly
to renounce his &longs;ociety. At times I have admitted
his vi&longs;its; always meeting him in the
garden, or grove adjoining; till of late, the
weather, and my ill health induced me to
comply with his &longs;olicitations, and receive him
into the parlor.

Not long, however, &longs;hall I be &longs;ubject to
the&longs;e embarra&longs;&longs;ments. Grief has undermined
my con&longs;titution. My health has fallen a sacrifice
to a di&longs;ordered mind. But I regret
not its departure! I have not a &longs;ingle wi&longs;h
to live. Nothing which the world affords
can re&longs;tore my former &longs;erenity and happine&longs;s!

[figure description] Page 223.[end figure description]

The little innocent I bear, will quickly disclose
its mother's &longs;hame! God Almighty
grant it may not live as a monument of my
guilt, and a partaker of the infamy and sorrow,
which is all I have to bequeath it!
Should it be continued in life, it will never
know the tenderne&longs;s of a parent; and, perhaps,
want and di&longs;grace may be its wretched
portion! The greate&longs;t con&longs;olation I can have,
will be to carry it with me to a &longs;tate of eternal
re&longs;t; which, vile as I am, I hope to obtain,
through the infinite mercy of heaven, as revealed
in the go&longs;pel of Chri&longs;t.

I mu&longs;t &longs;ee Major Sanford again. It is necessary
to conver&longs;e further with him, in order
to carry my plan of operation into execution.
What is this plan of operation, Eliza? &longs;aid I. I
am on the rack of anxiety for your &longs;afety. Be
patient, continued &longs;he and you &longs;hall &longs;oon be informed.
To morrow I &longs;hall write my dreadful
&longs;tory to my mother. She will be acquainted
with my future intentions; and you &longs;hall know,
at the &longs;ame time, the de&longs;tination of your lo&longs;t
friend. I hope, &longs;aid I, that you have formed no
re&longs;olution again&longs;t your own life. God forbid,
rejoined &longs;he. My breath is in his hands, let
him do what &longs;eemeth good in his &longs;ight!
Keep my &longs;ecret one day longer, and I will
never more impo&longs;e &longs;o painful a &longs;ilence upon
you.

[figure description] Page 224.[end figure description]

By this time we had reached home. She
drank tea with compo&longs;ure, and &longs;oon retired
to re&longs;t. Mrs. Wharton eagerly inquired
whether I had found out the cau&longs;e of Eliza's
melancholy. I have urged her, &longs;aid I, on the
&longs;ubject; but &longs;he alledges that &longs;he has particular
rea&longs;ons for pre&longs;ent concealment. She has,
notwith&longs;tanding, promi&longs;ed to let me know, the
day after to morrow. Oh, &longs;aid &longs;he, I &longs;hall
not re&longs;t till the period arrives. Dear, good
woman, &longs;aid I to my&longs;elf, I fear you will never
re&longs;t afterwards!

This is our pre&longs;ent &longs;ituation. Think what
a &longs;cene ri&longs;es to the view of your Julia! She
mu&longs;t &longs;hare the di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;es of others, though
her own feelings, on this unhappy occa&longs;ion,
are too keen to admit a moment's &longs;erenity!
My greate&longs;t relief is in writing to you; which
I &longs;hall do again by the next po&longs;t. In the
mean time, I mu&longs;t beg leave to &longs;ub&longs;cribe myself,
&longs;incerely yours,

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