By Julia's advice we have neglected the repeated invitations of Major
Sanford to visit and commence neighborhood with them till yesterday,
when we received a polite billet requesting the honor of our company to
dine. My mamma declined going, but said she had no objection to our
compliance with the message if we thought proper. Julia and I
accordingly went. We found a large company assembled in a spacious hall,
splendidly furnished and decorated. They were all very polite and
attentive to me, but none more so than Major Sanford and his lady, who
jointly strove to dissipate the pensiveness of my mind, which I found it
impossible to conceal. When we were summoned to dinner, the major, being
near me, offered his hand, and, leading me into the dining room, seated
me at a table furnished with all the variety which could please the eye
or regale the taste of the most luxurious epicure. The conversation
turned on various subjects--literary, political, and miscellaneous. In
the evening we had a ball. Major Sanford gave the hand of his wife to a
Mr. Grey, alleging that he was a stranger, and therefore entitled to
particular attention, and then solicited mine himself. I was on the
point of refusing him, but recollecting that it might have the
appearance of continued resentment, contrary to my declaration of
forgiving what was past, I complied. He was all kindness and assiduity;
the more so, I imagined, with a view to make amends for his former
ingratitude and neglect. Tenderness is now peculiarly soothing to my
wounded heart. He took an opportunity of conversing with his wife and me
together, hoped she would be honored with my friendship and
acquaintance, and begged for her sake that I would not be a stranger at
his house. His Nancy, he said, was far removed from her maternal
friends, but I could supply their place if I would generously undertake
the task. She joined in expressing the same sentiments and wishes.
"Alas! sir," said I, "Eliza Wharton is not now what she once was. I
labor under a depression of spirits which must render my company rather
painful than pleasing to my friends." The idea of what I had been,
contrasted with what I then was, touched my sensibility, and I could not
restrain the too officious tear from stealing down my cheek. He took me
by the hand, and said, "You distress me, Miss Wharton; indeed you
distress me. Happiness must and shall attend you. Cursed be the wretch
who could wound a heart like yours."