Jane Talbot
Copyright© 2024 by Charles Brockden Brown
Letter XL
To James Montford
November 28.
I TOLD you of your brother Stephen’s talk with me about accompanying him on his northwest voyage. I mentioned to you what were my objections to the scheme. It was a desperate adventure; a sort of forlorn hope; to be pursued in case my wishes in relation to Jane should be crossed. I had not then any, or much, apprehension of change in her resolutions. So many proofs of a fervent and invincible attachment to me had she lately given, that I could not imagine any motive strong enough to change her purpose. Yet now, my friend, have I arranged matters with your brother, and expect to bid an everlasting farewell to my native shore some day within the ensuing fortnight.
I call it an everlasting farewell, for I have, at present, neither expectation nor desire of returning. A three years’ wandering among boisterous seas and through various climates, added to that inward care, that spiritless, dejected heart, which I shall ever bear about me, would surely never let me return, even if I had the wish: but I have not the wish. If I live at all, it must be in a scene far different and distant from that in which I have been hitherto reluctantly detained.
And why have I embraced this scheme? There can be but one cause.
Having just returned from following Thomson’s remains to the grave, I received a letter from Jane. Her mother had just arrived. She came, it seems, in consequence of her daughter’s apparent compliance with her wishes. The letter retracting my friend’s precipitate promise had miscarried or had lingered by the way. What I little suspected, my father had acquainted Mrs. Fielder with his conduct towards me; and this, together with her mother’s importunities, had prevailed on Jane once more to renounce me.
There never occurred an event in my life which did not, someway, bear testimony to the usefulness and value of sincerity. Had I fully disclosed all that passed between my father and me, should I not easily have diverted Jane from these extremities? Alone, at a distance from me, and with her mother’s eloquence at hand to confirm every wayward sentiment and fortify her in every hostile resolution, she is easily driven into paths, and perhaps kept steadily in them, from which proper explanations and pathetic arguments, had they been early and seasonably employed by me, would have led her easily away.
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