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.

224 JANE TALBOT.
Could you prevail on yourself to hide these generous
emotions from me? To suffer me to leave my country
in the dreary belief that all former incidents were held
in contempt, and that, so far from being high in your
esteem, my presence was troublesome, my existence was
irksome, to you?
But your motive was beneficent and generous. You
were content to be thought unfeeling and ungrateful for
the sake of my happiness. I rejoice inexpressibly in
that event which has removed the veil from your true
sentiments. Nothing but pure felicity to me can flow
from it. Nothing but gratitude and honour can redound
from it to yourself.
I go; but not with anguish and despondency for my
companions. I am buoyed up by the light wings of
hope. The prospect of gaining your love is not the only
source of my present happiness. If it were, I should
be a criminal and selfish being. No. My chief delight
is, that happiness is yet in store for you; that, should
Heaven have denied you your first hope, there still lives
one whose claim to make you happy will not be rejected.
G. CARTWRIGHT.
LETTER LXV.
To G. Cartwright.
Banks of Delaware, October 5.
MY BROTHER:It would avail me nothing to deny the confessions to
which you allude. Neither will I conceal from you that
I am much grieved at the discovery. Far am I from
deeming your good opinion of little value; but in this
case I was more anxious to deserve it than-possess it.
Little, indeed, did you know me, when you imagined
me insensible to your merit and forgetful of the happy
days of our childhood, —the recollection of which has a
thousand times made my tears flow. I thank Heaven
that the evils which I have suffered have had no tendency
to deaden my affections, to narrow my heart.