The History of Emily Montague

  I could bear any thing but to lose her affection; my whole heart wasset upon her: I had every reason to believe myself dear to her. Cancaprice find a place in that bosom which is the abode of every virtue?

  I must have been misrepresented to her, or surely this could nothave happened: I will wait to-morrow, and if I hear nothing will writeto her, and ask an explanation by letter; she refused me a verbal oneto-day, though I begged to speak with her only for a moment.

  Tuesday.

  I have been asked on a little riding party, and, as I cannot go toSilleri, have accepted it: it will amuse my present anxiety.

  I am to drive Mademoiselle Clairaut, a very pretty French lady: thisis however of no consequence, for my eyes see nothing lovely but Emily.

  Adieu! Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 90.

  To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

  Silleri, Wednesday morning.

  Poor Emily is to meet with perpetual mortification: we have beencarrioling with Fitzgerald and my father; and, coming back, met yourbrother driving Mademoiselle Clairaut: Emily trembled, turned pale, andscarce returned Rivers's bow; I never saw a poor little girl so inlove; she is amazingly altered within the last fortnight.

  Two o'clock.

  A letter from Mrs. Melmoth: I send you a copy of it with this.

  Adieu! Yours, A. Fermor.

  LETTER 91.

  To Miss Montague, at Silleri.

  Montreal, March 19.

  If you are not absolutely resolved on destruction, my dear Emily, itis yet in your power to retrieve the false step you have made.

  Sir George, whose good-nature is in this instance almost withoutexample, has been prevailed on by Mr. Melmoth to consent I should writeto you before he leaves Montreal, and again offer you his hand, thoughrejected in a manner so very mortifying both to vanity and love.

  He gives you a fortnight to consider his offer, at the end of whichif you refuse him he sets out for England over the lakes.

  Be assured, the man for whom it is too plain you have acted thisimprudent part, is so far from returning your affection, that he is atthis moment addressing another; I mean Madame Des Roches, a nearrelation of whose assured me that there was an attachment between them:indeed it is impossible he could have thought of a woman whose fortuneis as small as his own. Men, Miss Montague, are not the romantic beingsyou seem to suppose them; you will not find many Sir George Claytons.

  I beg as early an answer as is consistent with the attention soimportant a proposal requires, as a compliment to a passion so generousand disinterested as that of Sir George. I am, my dear Emily,

  Your affectionate friend, E. Melmoth.

  LETTER 92.

  To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.

  Silleri, March 19.

  I am sorry, my dear Madam, you should know so little of my heart, asto suppose it possible I could have broke my engagements with SirGeorge from any motive but the full conviction of my wanting thattender affection for him, and that lively taste for his conversation,which alone could have ensured either his felicity or my own; happy isit for both that I discovered this before it was too late: it was avery unpleasing circumstance, even under an intention only of marryinghim, to find my friendship stronger for another; what then would ithave been under the most sacred of all engagements, that of marriage?What wretchedness would have been the portion of both, had timidity,decorum, or false honor, carried me, with this partiality in my heart,to fulfill those views, entered into from compliance to my family, andcontinued from a false idea of propriety, and weak fear of the censuresof the world?

  The same reason therefore still subsisting, nay being every momentstronger, from a fuller conviction of the merit of him my heartprefers, in spite of me, to Sir George, our union is more impossiblethan ever.

  I am however obliged to you, and Major Melmoth, for your zeal toserve me, though you must permit me to call it a mistaken one; and toSir George, for a concession which I own I should not have made in hissituation, and which I can only suppose the effect of Major Melmoth'spersuasions, which he might suppose were known to me, and animagination that my sentiments for him were changed: assure him of myesteem, though love is not in my power.

  As Colonel Rivers never gave me the remotest reason to suppose himmore than my friend, I have not the least right to disapprove hismarrying: on the contrary, as his friend, I _ought_ to wish aconnexion which I am told is greatly to his advantage.

  To prevent all future importunity, painful to me, and, allcircumstances considered, degrading to Sir George, whose honor is verydear to me, though I am obliged to refuse him that hand which he surelycannot wish to receive without my heart, I am compelled to say, that,without an idea of ever being united to Colonel Rivers, I will nevermarry any other man.

  Were I never again to behold him, were he even the husband ofanother, my tenderness, a tenderness as innocent as it is lively,would never cease: nor would I give up the refined delight of lovinghim, independently of any hope of being beloved, for any advantage inthe power of fortune to bestow.

  These being my sentiments, sentiments which no time can alter, theycannot be too soon known to Sir George: I would not one hour keep himin suspence in a point, which this step seems to say is of consequenceto his happiness.

  Tell him, I entreat him to forget me, and to come into views whichwill make his mother, and I have no doubt himself, happier than amarriage with a woman whose chief merit is that very sincerity of heartwhich obliges her to refuse him.

  I am, Madam, Your affectionate, &c. Emily Montague.

  LETTER 93.

  To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

  Silleri, Thursday.

  Your brother dines here to-day, by my father's invitation; I amafraid it will be but an awkward party.

  Emily is at this moment an exceeding fine model for a statue oftender melancholy.

  Her anger is gone; not a trace remaining; 'tis sorrow, but the mostbeautiful sorrow I ever beheld: she is all grief for having offendedthe dear man.

  I am out of patience with this look; it is so flattering to him, Icould beat her for it: I cannot bear his vanity should be sogratified.

  I wanted her to treat him with a saucy, unconcerned, flippant air;but her whole appearance is gentle, tender, I had almost said,supplicating: I am ashamed of the folly of my own sex: O, that I couldto-day inspire her with a little of my spirit! she is a poor tamehousehold dove, and there is no making any thing of her.

  Eleven o'clock.

  "For my shepherd is kind, and my heart is at ease."

  What fools women are, Lucy! He took her hand, expressed concern forher health, softened the tone of his voice, looked a few civil thingswith those expressive lying eyes of his, and without one word ofexplanation all was forgot in a moment.

  Good night! Yours, A. Fermor.

  Heavens! the fellow is here, has followed me to my dressing-room;was ever any thing so confident? These modest men have ten times theassurance of your impudent fellows. I believe absolutely he is going tomake love to me: 'tis a critical hour, Lucy; and to rob one's friend ofa lover is really a temptation.

  Twelve o'clock.

  The dear man is gone, and has made all up: he insisted on myexplaining the reasons of the cold reception he had met with; which youknow was impossible, without betraying the secret of poor Emily'slittle foolish heart.

  I however contrived to let him know we were a little piqued at hisgoing without seeing us, and that we were something inclined to bejealous of his _friendship_ for Madame Des Roches.

  He made a pretty decent defence; and, though I don't absolutelyacquit him of coquetry, yet upon the whole I think I forgive him.

  He loves Emily, which is great merit with me: I am only sorry theyare two such poor devils, it is next to impossible they should evercome together.

  I think I am not angry now; as to Emily, her eyes dance withpleasure; she has not the same countenance as i
n the morning; thislove is the finest cosmetick in the world.

  After all, he is a charming fellow, and has eyes, Lucy--Heaven bepraised, he never pointed their fire at me!

  Adieu! I will try to sleep.

  Yours, A. Fermor.

  LETTER 94.

  To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

  Quebec, March 20.

  The coldness of which I complained, my dear Lucy, in regard toEmily, was the most flattering circumstance which could have happened:I will not say it was the effect of jealousy, but it certainly was ofa delicacy of affection which extremely resembles it.

  Never did she appear so lovely as yesterday; never did she displaysuch variety of loveliness: there was a something in her look, when Ifirst addressed her on entering the room, touching beyond all words, acertain inexpressible melting languor, a dying softness, which it wasnot in man to see unmoved: what then must a lover have felt?

  I had the pleasure, after having been in the room a few moments, tosee this charming languor change to a joy which animated her wholeform, and of which I was so happy as to believe myself the cause: myeyes had told her all that passed in my heart; hers had shewed meplainly they understood their language. We were standing at a window atsome little distance from the rest of the company, when I took anopportunity of hinting my concern at having, though without knowing it,offended her: she blushed, she looked down, she again raised her lovelyeyes, they met mine, she sighed; I took her hand, she withdrew it, butnot in anger; a smile, like that of the poet's Hebe, told me I wasforgiven.

  There is no describing what then passed in my soul: with whatdifficulty did I restrain my transports! never before did I really knowlove: what I had hitherto felt even for her, was cold to thatenchanting, that impassioned moment.

  She is a thousand times dearer to me than life: my Lucy, I cannotlive without her.

  I contrived, before I left Silleri, to speak to Bell Fermor on thesubject of Emily's reception of me; she did not fully explain herself,but she convinced me hatred had no part in her resentment.

  I am going again this afternoon: every hour not passed with her islost.

  I will seek a favorable occasion of telling her the whole happinessof my life depends on her tenderness.

  Before I write again, my fate will possibly be determined: withevery reason to hope, the timidity inseparable from love makes me dreada full explanation of my sentiments: if her native softness should havedeceived me--but I will not study to be unhappy.

  Adieu! Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 95.

  To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

  Silleri, March 20.

  I have been telling Fitzgerald I am jealous of his prodigiousattention to Emily, whose cecisbeo he has been the last ten days: thesimpleton took me seriously, and began to vindicate himself, byexplaining the nature of his regard for her, pleading her lateindisposition as an excuse for shewing her some extraordinarycivilities.

  I let him harangue ten minutes, then stops me him short, puts on mypoetical face, and repeats,

  "When sweet Emily complains, I have sense of all her pains; But for little Bella, I Do not only grieve, but die."

  He smiled, kissed my hand, praised my amazing penetration, and wasgoing to take this opportunity of saying a thousand civil things, whenmy divine Rivers appeared on the side of the hill; I flew to meet him,and left my love to finish the conversation alone.

  Twelve o'clock.

  I am the happiest of all possible women; Fitzgerald is in thesullens about your brother; surely there is no pleasure in nature equalto that of plaguing a fellow who really loves one, especially if he hasas much merit as Fitzgerald, for otherwise he would not be worthtormenting. He had better not pout with me: I believe I know who willbe tired first.

  Eight in the evening.

  I have passed a most delicious day: Fitzgerald took it into his wisehead to endeavor to make me jealous of a little pert French-woman, thewife of a Croix de St. Louis, who I know he despises; I then thoughtmyself at full liberty to play off all my airs, which I did withineffable success, and have sent him home in a humor to hang himself.Your brother stays the evening, so does a very handsome fellow I havebeen flirting with all the day: Fitz was engaged here too, but I toldhim it was impossible for him not to attend Madame La Brosse to Quebec;he looked at me with a spite in his countenance which charmed me to thesoul, and handed the fair lady to his carriole.

  I'll teach him to coquet, Lucy; let him take his Madame La Brosse:indeed, as her husband is at Montreal, I don't see how he can avoidpursuing his conquest: I am delighted, because I know she is hisaversion.

  Emily calls me to cards. Adieu! my dear little Lucy.

  Yours, A. Fermor.

  LETTER 96.

  To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.

  Pall Mall, January 3.

  I have but a moment, my dear Ned, to tell you, that without so muchas asking your leave, and in spite of all your wise admonitions, yourlovely sister has this morning consented to make me the happiest ofmankind: to-morrow gives me all that is excellent and charming inwoman.

  You are to look on my writing this letter as the strongest proof Iever did, or ever can give you of my friendship. I must love you withno common affection to remember at this moment that there is such a manin being: perhaps you owe this recollection only to your being brotherto the loveliest woman nature ever formed; whose charms in a monthhave done more towards my conversion than seven years of your preachingwould have done. I am going back to Clarges Street. Adieu!

  Yours, &c. John Temple.

  LETTER 97.

  To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.

  Clarges Street, January 3.

  I am afraid you knew very little of the sex, my dear brother, whenyou cautioned me so strongly against loving Mr. Temple: I shouldperhaps, with all his merit, have never thought of him but for thatcaution.

  There is something very interesting to female curiosity in the ideaof these very formidable men, whom no woman can see without danger; wegaze on the terrible creature at a distance, see nothing in him so veryalarming; he approaches, our little hearts palpitate with fear, he isgentle, attentive, respectful; we are surprized at this respect, we aresure the world wrongs the dear civil creature; he flatters, we arepleased with his flattery; our little hearts still palpitate--but notwith fear.

  In short, my dear brother, if you wish to serve a friend with us,describe him as the most dangerous of his sex; the very idea that he isso, makes us think resistance vain, and we throw down our defensivearms in absolute despair.

  I am not sure this is the reason of my discovering Mr. Temple to bethe most amiable of men; but of this I am certain, that I love him withthe most lively affection, and that I am convinced, notwithstanding allyou have said, that he deserves all my tenderness.

  Indeed, my dear prudent brother, you men fancy yourselves extremelywise and penetrating, but you don't know each other half so well as weknow you: I shall make Temple in a few weeks as tame a domestic animalas you can possibly be, even with your Emily.

  I hope you won't be very angry with me for accepting an agreablefellow, and a coach and six: if you are, I can only say, that findingthe dear man steal every day upon my heart, and recollecting how verydangerous a creature he was,

  "I held it both safest and best To marry, for fear you should chide."

  Adieu! Your affectionate, &c. Lucy Rivers.

  Please to observe, mamma was on Mr. Temple's side, and that I onlytake him from obedience to her commands. He has behaved like an angelto her; but I leave himself to explain how: she has promised to livewith us. We are going a party to Richmond, and only wait for Mr.Temple.

  With all my pertness, I tremble at the idea that to-morrow willdetermine the happiness or misery of my life.

  Adieu! my dearest brother.

  LETTER 98.

  To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.

  Quebec, March 21.

/>   Were I convinced of your conversion, my dear Jack, I should be thehappiest man breathing in the thought of your marrying my sister; but Itremble lest this resolution should be the effect of passion merely,and not of that settled esteem and tender confidence without whichmutual repentance will be the necessary consequence of your connexion.

  Lucy is one of the most beautiful women I ever knew, but she hasmerits of a much superior kind; her understanding and her heart areequally lovely: she has also a sensibility which exceedingly alarms mefor her, as I know it is next to impossible that even her charms canfix a heart so long accustomed to change.

  Do I not guess too truly, my dear Temple, when I suppose thecharming mistress is the only object you have in view; and that thetender amiable friend, the pleasing companion, the faithful confidante,is forgot?

  I will not however anticipate evils: if any merit has power to fixyou, Lucy's cannot fail of doing it.

  I expect with impatience a further account of an event in which myhappiness is so extremely interested.

  If she is yours, may you know her value, and you cannot fail ofbeing happy: I only fear from your long habit of improper attachments;naturally, I know not a heart filled with nobler sentiments than yours,nor is there on earth a man for whom I have equal esteem. Adieu!