countenance; at least till your unfortunate connection with Colden. To
that connection must be traced every misfortune and depravity that has
attended you since.

When I heard, from Patty Sinclair, of his frequent visits to you during
your retirement at Burlington, I thought of it but little. He was, indeed,
a new acquaintance. You were unacquainted with his character and history,
except so far as you could collect them from his conversation; and no
confidence could, of course, be placed in that. It was therefore, perhaps,
somewhat indiscreet to permit such _very_ frequent visits, such
_very_ long walks. To neglect the friends whom you lived with, for
the sake of exclusive conversations and lonely rambles, noon and night,
with a mere stranger,--one not regularly introduced to you,--whose name
you were obliged to inquire of himself,--you, too, already a betrothed
woman; your lover absent; yourself from home, and merely on terms of
hospitality! all this did not look well.

But the mischief, it was evident, was to be known by the event. Colden
might have probity and circumspection. He might prove an agreeable friend
to your future husband and a useful companion to yourself. Kept within due
limits, your complacency for this stranger, your attachment to his
company, might occasion no inconvenience. How little did I then suspect to
what extremes you were capable of going, and even then had actually
gone!

The subject was of sufficient importance to induce me to write to you.
Your answer was not quite satisfactory, yet, on the whole, laid my
apprehensions at rest. I was deceived by the confidence you expressed in
your own caution, and the seeming readiness there was to be governed by my
advice.