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.

188 JANE TALBOT.
venge, and how the merits of the object preferred to me
should only embitter that revenge.
Jane Talbot never loved the man whom I would have
made happy. THer ingenuous temper easily disclosed her
indifference, and she married not to please herself, but to
please others. Her husband's infatuation in marrying
on such terms could be exceeded by nothing but his folly
in refusing one who would have lived for no other end
than to please him.
I observed the progress of the intimacy between Mr.
Colden and her, in Talbot's absence; and can you not
conceive, madam, that my heart was disposed to exult in
every event that verified my own predictions and would
convince Talbot of the folly of his choice? Hence I was
a jealous observer. The worst construction was put upon
your daughter's conduct. That open, impetuous temper
of hers, confident of innocence, and fearless of ungenerous or malignant constructions, easily put her into my
power. Unrequited love made me her enemy as well as
that of her husband, anid I even saw, in her unguarded
deportment, and in the reputed licentiousness of Mr.
Colden's principles, some reason, some probability, in my
surmises.
Several anonymous letters were written to you. I
thank Heaven that I was seldom guilty of direct falsehoods in these letters. I told you little more than what
a jealous eye and a prying disposition easily discovered;
and I never saw any thing in their intercourse that
argued more than a temper thoughtless and indiscreet.
To distinguish minutely between truths and exaggerations, in the letters which I sent you, would be a painful
and, I trust, a needless task, since I now solemnly declare
that, on an impartial review of all that I ever witnessed
in the conduct of your daughter, I remember nothing that
can justify the imputation of guilt. I believe her conduct to Colden was not always limited by a due regard
to appearances; that she trusted her fame too much to
her consciousness of innocence, and set too lightly by
the malignity of those who would be glad to find her in
fault, and the ignorance of others, who naturally judged
of her by themselves. And this, I now solemnly take