I had acquired, even in my transient sojourn among the
busy haunts of men, more knowledge than the lucubrations and employments
of all my previous years had conferred. Hence I might infer the
childlike immaturity of my understanding, and the rapid progress I was
still capable of making. Was this an age to form an irrevocable
contract; to choose the companion of my future life, the associate of my
schemes of intellectual and benevolent activity? I had reason to contemn my own acquisitions; but were not those of Eliza
still more slender? Could I rely upon the permanence of her equanimity
and her docility to my instructions? What qualities might not time
unfold, and how little was I qualified to estimate the character of one
whom no vicissitude or hardship had approached before the death of her
father,--whose ignorance was, indeed, great, when it could justly be
said even to exceed my own! Should I mix with the world, enroll myself in different classes of
society, be a witness to new scenes; might not my modes of judging
undergo essential variations? Might I not gain the knowledge of beings
whose virtue was the gift of experience and the growth of knowledge? who
joined to the modesty and charms of woman the benefits of education, the
maturity and steadfastness of age, and with whose character and
sentiments my own would be much more congenial than they could possibly
be with the extreme youth, rustic simplicity, and mental imperfections
of Eliza Hadwin? To say truth, I was now conscious of a revolution in my mind. I can
scarcely assign its true cause. No tokens of it appeared during my late
retreat to Malverton. Subsequent incidents, perhaps, joined with the
influence of meditation, had generated new views. On my first visit to
the city, I had met with nothing but scenes of folly, depravity, and
cunning. No wonder that the images connected with the city were
disastrous and gloomy; but my second visit produced somewhat different
impressions. Maravegli, Estwick, Medlicote, and you, were beings who
inspired veneration and love. Your residence appeared to beautify and
consecrate this spot, and gave birth to an opinion that, if cities are
the chosen seats of misery and vice, they are likewise the soil of all
the laudable and strenuous productions of mind. My curiosity and thirst of knowledge had likewise received a new
direction. Books and inanimate nature were cold and lifeless
instructors. Men, and the works of men, were the objects of rational
study, and our own eyes only could communicate just conceptions of human
performances. The influence of manners, professions, and social
institutions, could be thoroughly known only by direct inspection. Competence, fixed property and a settled abode, rural occupations and
conjugal pleasures, were justly to be prized; but their value could be
known and their benefits fully enjoyed only by those who have tried all
scenes; who have mixed with all classes and ranks; who have partaken of
all conditions; and who have visited different hemispheres and climates
and nations. The next five or eight years of my life should be devoted
to activity and change; it should be a period of hardship, danger, and
privation; it should be my apprenticeship to fortitude and wisdom, and
be employed to fit me for the tranquil pleasures and steadfast exertions
of the remainder of my life. In consequence of these reflections, I determined to suppress that
tenderness which the company of Miss Hadwin produced, to remove any
mistakes into which she had fallen, and to put it out of my power to
claim for her more than the dues of friendship. All ambiguities, in a
case like this, and all delays, were hurtful. She was not exempt from
passion, but this passion, I thought, was young, and easily
extinguished. In a short time her health was restored, and her grief melted down into
a tender melancholy. I chose a suitable moment, when not embarrassed by
the presence of others, to reveal my thoughts. My disclosure was
ingenuous and perfect. I laid before her the whole train of my thoughts,
nearly in the order, though in different and more copious terms than
those, in which I have just explained them to you. I concealed nothing. The impression which her artless loveliness had made upon me at
Malverton; my motives for estranging myself from her society; the nature
of my present feelings with regard to her, and my belief of the state of
her heart; the reasonings into which I had entered; the advantages of
wedlock and its inconveniences; and, finally, the resolution I had
formed of seeking the city, and, perhaps, of crossing the ocean, were
minutely detailed. She interrupted me not, but changing looks, blushes, flutterings, and
sighs, showed her to be deeply and variously affected by my discourse. I
paused for some observation or comment. She seemed conscious of my
expectation, but had no power to speak. Overpowered, at length, by her
emotions, she burst into tears. I was at a loss in what manner to construe these symptoms. I waited till
her vehemence was somewhat subsided, and then said, "What think you of
my schemes? Your approbation is of some moment: do you approve of them
or not?" This question excited some little resentment, and she answered, "You
have left me nothing to say. Go, and be happy; no matter what becomes of
me. I hope I shall be able to take care of myself." The tone in which this was said had something in it of upbraiding. "Your
happiness," said I, "is too dear to me to leave it in danger. In this
house you will not need my protection, but I shall never be so far from
you as to be disabled from hearing how you fare, by letter, and of being
active for your good. You have some money, which you must husband well. Any rent from your farm cannot be soon expected; but what you have got,
if you remain with Mr. Curling, will pay your board and all other
expenses for two years; but you must be a good economist. I shall
expect," continued I, with a serious smile, "a punctual account of all
your sayings and doings. I must know how every minute is employed and
every penny is expended, and, if I find you erring, I must tell you so
in good round terms." These words did not dissipate the sullenness which her looks had
betrayed. She still forbore to look at me, and said, "I do not know how
I should tell you every thing. You care so little about me that--I
should only be troublesome. I am old enough to think and act for myself,
and shall advise with nobody but myself." "That is true," said I. "I shall rejoice to see you independent and
free. Consult your own understanding, and act according to its dictates. Nothing more is wanting to make you useful and happy. I am anxious to
return to the city, but, if you will allow me, will go first to
Malverton, see that things are in due order, and that old Caleb is well. From thence, if you please, I will call at your uncle's, and tell him
what has happened.