vindication of ourselves, only makes the matter worse. When I said, that I meant not to alter my conduct while my conscience did not accuse me, I had no idea that you would suppose my conduct towards him had ever been of a kind that required an alteration, or any thing more pointed than to any other gentleman. I supposed you would infer from what I said that it was such as propriety and a regard for my reputation would sanction. I know not what you think it has been, but if I can judge of my own actions,—their motives I know I can, but I mean the outward appearance,—I have never treated him with any more distinction than any other gentleman, nor have appeared more pleased with his attentions than with another’s; believe me, I have kept constantly in view the opinion of the world, and if you knew every circumstance of my life, you would be convinced my feelings were “tremblingly alive” to all its slanders. But “something too much of this”; you, who know my disposition, may easily conceive how often I subject myself to the envenomed shafts of censure and malice, by that gaiety and high flow of spirits, which I sometimes think my greatest misfortune to possess,—sometimes I err in judgment—don’t always see the right path,—sometimes I see it, yet the warmth and ardor of my feelings force me out of it. Yet in this affair I feel confident I have acted from right principles,—there are a thousand trifling things which at times influenced my conduct, which you cannot know, and you may be surprised when I say that his attentions were of a kind that politeness obliged me to receive, nor should I ever have suspected they meant any thing more than gallantry and politeness, had not the babbles of the world put it into my head. You have been misinformed in many respects, I am convinced. You mentioned his constant visits at Sister Boyd’s. I declare to you he never was there a half dozen times the three months I was in Portland, excepting the morning after the assemblies, when the gentlemen all go to see their partners; neither was I his constant partner at assemblies. I never danced but two dances in an evening with him all winter, excepting once, and then there was a mistake,—this surely was nothing remarkable, for I always danced two with Mr. Smith at every assembly we were at. I danced as much with one as the other. True, he was my partner at 2 parties at Broads. I at the time asked Horatio, when he mentioned the party, why he would not carry me; he said if I was asked by any other, to say I was going with my brother, would be considered as a tacit declaration that I had an aversion to going with him, therefore ’twould have been folly. You cannot judge unless you know a thousand customs and every ... which they have in Portland. But I declare to you, Cousin, I am much gratified that you told me what you thought—had you have locked it in your bosom, I should never have had an opportunity to vindicate myself. I beg of you