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.

92 JANE TALBOT.
condemning, transforms me into a new creature. The
dread of having offended you gives me the most pungent
distress. Your "well done" lifts me above all reproach.
It is only when you are distant, when your verdict is uncertain, that I shrink from contumely,-that the scorn of
the world, though unmerited, is a load too heavy for my
strength.
Methinks I should be a strange creature if left to myself. A very different creature, doubtless, I should have
been, if placed under any other guidance. So easily
swayed am I by one that is lord of my affections. No
will, no reason, have I of my own.
Such sudden and total transitions! In solitude I ruminate and form my schemes. They seem to me unalterable: yet a word from you scatters all my laboured edifices,
and I look back upon my former state of mind as on something that passed when I was a lunatic or dreaming.
It is but a day since I determined to part with you,since a thousand tormenting images engrossed my imagination: yet now am I quite changed; I am bound to
you by links stronger than ever. No; I will not part
with you.
Yet how shall I excuse my non-compliance to my mother? I have told her that I would come to her, that I
waited only for her directions as to the disposal of her
property. What will be her disappointment when I tell
her that I will not come!-when she finds me, in spite of
her remonstrances, still faithful to my engagements to
thee!
Is there no method of removing this aversion? of outrooting this deadly prejudice? And must I, in giving
myself to thee, forfeit her affection?
And now-this dreadful charge! no wonder that her
affectionate heart was sorely wounded by such seeming
proofs of my wickedness.
I thought at first-shame upon my inconsistent character, my incurable blindness! I should never have
doubted the truth of my first thoughts, if you had not
helped me to a more candid conjecture. I was unjust
enough to load him with the guilt of this plot against
me, and imagined there was duty in forbearing to detect it.