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. 59
LETTER XI.
Tro MArs. Fielder.
Philadelphia, October 15.
I HAVE several times taken up the pen, but my distress
has compelled me to lay it down again. Heaven is my
witness that the happiness of my revered mamma is dearer
to me than my own; no struggle was ever greater between my duty to you and the claims of another.
Will you not permit me to explain my conduct? will
you not acquaint me with the reasons of your aversion
to my friend?-let me call him by that name. Such, indeed, has he been to me,-the friend of my understanding and my virtue. My soul's friend; since, to suffer,
without guilt, in this world, entitles us to peace in another, and since to him I owe that I have not been a
guilty as well as an unfortunate creature.
Whatever conduct I pursue with regard to him, I must
always consider him in this light; at least, till your proofs
against him are heard. Let me hear them, I beseech
you. Have compassion on the anguish of your poor girl,
and reconcile, if possible, my duty to your inclination,
by stating what you know to his disadvantage. You
must have causes for your enmity, which you hide from
me. Indeed, you tell me that you have; you say that
if I knew them they would determine me. Let then
every motive be set aside through regard to my happiness,
and disclose to me this secret.
While I am ignorant of these charges, while all that
I know of Colden -tends to endear his happiness to me,
and while his happiness depends upon my acceptance of
his vows, can I, ought I, to reject him?
Place yourself in mny situation. You once loved and
was once beloved. I am, indeed, your child. I glory
in the name which you have had the goodness to bestow
upon me. Think and feel for your child, in her present
unhappy circumstances; in which she does not balance
between happiness and misery,-that alternative, alas!
is not permitted,-but is anxious to discover which path