The novels of Charles Brockden Brown, consisting of Wieland;or, The transformation. Arthur Mervyn; or, Memoirs of the year 1793. Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a sleep-walker. Jane Talbot. Ormond; or, The secret witness. Clara Howard; or, The enthusiasm of love. With a memoir of the author.

JANE TALBOT. 163
have occasioned, in accusing or upbraiding the slanderer.
She has likewise disclosed many instances of guilty conduct, which I supposed impossible to be discovered. I
never concealed them from Mrs. Talbot, to whom a thorough knowledge of my character was indispensable; but
I was unwilling to make any other my confessor. In
this I cannot suppose her motives to have been very benevolent; but, since she adhered to the truth, it is not for
me to arraign her motives.
May I not suspect that she had some hand in the forgery
lately come to light? A mind like hers must hate a successful rival. To persuade Talbot of his wife's perfidy
was at least to dissolve his alliance with another; and
since she took so much pains to gain his favour, even after
his marriage, is it not allowable to question the delicacy
and punctiliousness, at least, of her virtue?
Mrs. Fielder's aversion to me is chiefly founded on
a knowledge of my past errors. She thinks them too
flagrant to be atoned for, and too inveterate to be cured.
I can never hope to subdue perfectly that aversion, and,
though Jane can never be happy without me, Ialone cannot make her happy. On my own account, therefore,
it is of little moment what she believes. But her own
happiness is deeply concerned in clearing her daughter's
character of this blackest of all stains.
Here is some one coming up the stairs towards my
apartment. Surely it cannot be to me that this visit is
intended.
Good Heaven! What shall I do?
it was Molly that has just left me.
My heart sunk at her appearance. I had made up my
mind to separate my evil destiny from that of Jane, and
could only portend new trials and difficulties from the appearance of one whom I supposed her messenger.
The poor girl, as soon as she saw me, began to sob bitterly, and could only exclaim, " Oh, sir! Oh, Mr. Golden i"
This behaviour was enough to terrify me. I trembled
in every joint while I faltered out, " I hope your mistress
is well?"
After many efforts, I prevailed in gaining a distinct