Letter I To Mr. Sarsefield
Philadelphia.
I came hither but ten minutes ago, and write this letter in the bar of the stage-house. I wish not to lose a moment in informing you of what has happened. I cannot do justice to my own feelings when I reflect upon the rashness of which I have been guilty.
I will give you the particulars to-morrow. At present, I shall only say that Clithero is alive, is apprized of your wife’s arrival and abode in New York, and has set out with mysterious intentions to visit her.
May Heaven avert the consequences of such a design! May you be enabled, by some means, to prevent their meeting! If you cannot prevent it—but I must not reason on such an event, nor lengthen out this letter.
E. H.