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.

THE ENTHUSIASM OF LOVE.

29

friend. Exert all thy persuasive eloquence. Convince me
that I have erred in resigning thy heart and hand to another,-in imagining the claim of Mary better than mine.
I call upon thy efforts to rescue me from self-condemnation; but I call on thee without hope. My reason cannot
be deceived. The sense of the injustice I have done her
will poison every enjoyment which a union with thee can
afford me.
Yet come. I repent not of my invitation. I retract
not my promise. Make me irrevocably thine. I shall
at least be happy while I forget her, and I will labour to
forget her. Adieu. Yours, CLARA HOWARD.
LETTER XII.
To JMiss Howard.
Philadelphia, April 23.
WHEN you know my reason for not accompanying
your father, you will approve of my conduct. I am once
more in health, but could not, at this season, perform the
journey without hazard. Meanwhile, some affairs remain to be transacted in this city, to which my strength
is fully equal; and the assurance of your love has lulled
all my cares to repose.
In less than a week I will be with you. Rely upon
my power to convince you that your present decision is
just. If I had doubts of its rectitude, your offer, transporting as it is, would never be accepted.
How little did you comprehend my character, in believing me capable of urging you to the commission of
what I deemed wrong! And think you that even now I
will accept your hand, unattended with the fullest concurrence of your reason? No; but'I doubt not to obtain that concurrence. I will fly to you on the wings
of transport, and armed with reasons which shall fully
remove your scruples.
These reasons, as well as a thousand affecting incidents
which have lately befallen me, I will reserve for our meeting. Meanwhile, place the enclosed portrait in your
bosom. It is that of my nurse, Mrs. Aston. She sends