"There may be advocates for matrimonial obedience, who, making a diſtinction between the duty of a wife and of a human being, may blame my conduct.—To them I write not—my feelings are not for them to analyze; and may you, my child, never be able to aſcertain, by heart-rending experience, what your mother felt before the preſent emancipation of her mind!
"I began to write a letter to my father, after cloſing one to my uncle; not to aſk advice, but to ſignify my determination; when I was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Venables. His manner was changed. His views on my uncle's fortune made him averſe to my quitting his houſe, or he would, I am convinced, have been glad to have ſhaken off even the ſlight reſtraint my preſence impoſed on him; the reſtraint of ſhowing me ſome reſpect. So far from having an affection for me, he really hated me, becauſe he was convinced that I muſt deſpiſe him.
"He told me, that, 'As I now had had time to cool and reflect, he did not doubt but that my prudence, and nice ſenſe of propriety, would lead me to overlook what was paſſed.'
"'Reflection,' I replied, 'had only confirmed my purpoſe, and no power on earth could divert me from it.'
"Endeavouring to aſſume a ſoothing voice and look, when he would willingly have tortured me, to force me to feel his power, his countenance had an infernal expreſſion, when he deſired me, 'Not to expoſe myſelf to the ſervants, by obliging him to confine me in my apartment; if then I would give my promiſe not to quit the houſe precipitately, I ſhould be free—and—.' I declared, interrupting him, 'that I would promiſe nothing. I had no meaſures to keep with him—I was reſolved, and would not condeſcend to ſubterfuge.'
"He muttered, 'that I ſhould ſoon repent of theſe prepoſterous airs;' and, ordering tea to be carried into my little ſtudy, which had a communication with my bed-chamber, he once more locked the door upon me, and left me to my own meditations. I had paſſively followed him up ſtairs, not wiſhing to fatigue myſelf with unavailing exertion.
"Nothing calms the mind like a fixed purpoſe. I felt as if I had heaved a thouſand weight from my heart; the atmoſphere ſeemed lightened; and, if I execrated the inſtitutions of ſociety, which thus enable men to tyrannize over women, it was almoſt a diſintereſted ſentiment. I diſregarded preſent inconveniences, when my mind had done ſtruggling with itſelf,—when reaſon and inclination had ſhaken hands and were at peace. I had no longer the cruel taſk before me, in endleſs perſpective, aye, during the tedious for ever of life, of labouring to overcome my repugnance—of labouring to extinguiſh the hopes, the maybes of a lively imagination. Death I had hailed as my only chance for deliverance; but, while exiſtence had ſtill ſo many charms, and life promiſed happineſs, I ſhrunk from the icy arms of an unknown tyrant, though far more inviting than thoſe of the man, to whom I ſuppoſed myſelf bound without any other alternative; and was content to linger a little longer, waiting for I knew not what, rather than leave 'the warm precincts of the cheerful day,' and all the unenjoyed affection of my nature.
"My preſent ſituation gave a new turn to my reflection; and I wondered (now the film ſeemed to be withdrawn, that obſcured the piercing ſight of reaſon) how I could, previouſly to the deciding outrage, have conſidered myſelf as everlaſtingly united to vice and folly? 'Had an evil genius caſt a ſpell at my birth; or a demon ſtalked out of chaos, to perplex my underſtanding, and enchain my will, with deluſive prejudices?'
"I purſued this train of thinking; it led me out of myſelf, to expatiate on the miſery peculiar to my ſex. 'Are not,' I thought, 'the deſpots for ever ſtigmatized, who, in the wantonneſs of power, commanded even the moſt atrocious criminals to be chained to dead bodies? though ſurely thoſe laws are much more inhuman, which forge adamantine fetters to bind minds together, that never can mingle in ſocial communion! What indeed can equal the wretchedneſs of that ſtate, in which there is no alternative, but to extinguiſh the affections, or encounter infamy?'
