ELIZA WHARTON.

LETTER XI.

TO MR. CHARLES DEIGHTON.

NEW HAVEN.

Well, Charles, I have been manoeuvring to-day a little revengefully.  That, you will say, is out of character.  So baleful a passion does not easily find admission among those softer ones which you well know I cherish.  However, I am a mere Proteus, and can assume any shape that will best answer my purpose.

I called this afternoon, as I told you I intended, at General Richman’s.  I waited some time in the parlor alone before Eliza appeared; and when she did appear, the distant reserve of her manners and the pensiveness of her countenance convinced me that she had been vexed, and I doubted not but Peter Sanford was the occasion.  Her wise cousin, I could have sworn, had been giving her a detail of the vices of her gallant, and warning her against the dangers of associating with him in future.  Notwithstanding, I took no notice of any alteration in her behavior, but entered with the utmost facetiousness into a conversation which I thought most to her taste.  By degrees she assumed her usual vivacity; cheerfulness and good humor again animated her countenance.  I tarried as long as decency would admit.  She having intimated that they were to dine at my friend Lawrence’s, I caught at this information, and determined to follow them, and tease the jealous Mrs. Richman by playing off all the gallantry I was master of in her presence.

I went, and succeeded to the utmost of my wishes, as I read in the vexation visible in the one, and the ease and attention displayed by the other.  I believe, too, that I have charmed the eye, at least, of the amiable Eliza.  Indeed, Charles, she is a fine girl.  I think it would hurt my conscience to wound her mind or reputation.  Were I disposed to marry, I am persuaded she would make an excellent wife; but that, you know, is no part of my plan, so long as I can keep out of the noose.  Whenever I do submit to be shackled, it must be from a necessity of mending my fortune.  This girl would be far from doing that.  However, I am pleased with her acquaintance, and mean not to abuse her credulity and good nature, if I can help it.

PETER SANFORD.

LETTER XII.

TO MISS LUCY FREEMAN.

NEW HAVEN.

The heart of your friend is again besieged.  Whether it will surrender to the assailants or not I am unable at present to determine.  Sometimes I think of becoming a predestinarian, and submitting implicitly to fate, without any exercise of free will; but, as mine seems to be a wayward one, I would counteract the operations of it, if possible.