This declaration has made me the happiest of my sex; but it has notincreased, it could not increase, my tenderness: with what softness,what diffidence, what respect, what delicacy, was this declarationmade! my dear friend, he is a god, and my ardent affection for him isfully justified.
I love him--no words can speak how much I love him.
My passion for him is the first and shall be the last of my life: mybosom never heaved a sigh but for my Rivers.
Will you pardon the folly of a heart which till now was ashamed toown its feelings, and of which you are even now the only confidante?
I find all the world so insipid, nothing amuses me one moment; inshort, I have no pleasure but in Rivers's conversation, nor do I countthe hours of his absence in my existence.
I know all this will be called folly, but it is a folly which makesall the happiness of my life.
You love, my dear Bell; and therefore will pardon the weakness ofyour
Emily.
LETTER 107.
To Miss Montague.
Saturday.
Yes, my dear, I love, at least I think so; but, thanks to my stars,not in the manner you do.
I prefer Fitzgerald to all the rest of his sex; but _I count thehours of his absence in my existence_; and contrive sometimes topass them pleasantly enough, if any other agreable man is in the way:in short, I relish flattery and attention from others, though Iinfinitely prefer them from him.
I certainly love him, for I was jealous of Madame La Brosse; but, ingeneral, I am not alarmed when I see him flirt a little with others.Perhaps my vanity was as much wounded as my love, with regard to MadameLa Brosse.
I find love is quite a different plant in different soils; it is anexotic, and grows faintly, with us coquets; but in its native climatewith you people of sensibility and sentiment.
Adieu! I will attend you in a quarter of an hour.
Yours, A. Fermor.
LETTER 108.
To Miss Fermor.
Not alarmed, my dear, at his attention to others? believe me, youknow nothing of love.
I think every woman who beholds my Rivers a rival; I imagine I seein every female countenance a passion tender and lively as my own; Iturn pale, my heart dies within me, if I observe his eyes a momentfixed on any other woman; I tremble at the possibility of his changing;I cannot support the idea that the time may come when I may be lessdear to my Rivers than at present. Do you believe it possible, mydearest Bell, for any heart, not prepossessed, to be insensible onemoment to my Rivers?
He is formed to charm the soul of woman; his delicacy, hissensibility, the mind that speaks through those eloquent eyes; thethousand graces of his air, the sound of his voice--my dear, I neverheard him speak without feeling a softness of which it is impossible toconvey an idea.
But I am wrong to encourage a tenderness which is already too great;I will think less of him; I will not talk of him; do not speak of himto me, my dear Bell: talk to me of Fitzgerald; there is no danger ofyour passion becoming too violent.
I wish you loved more tenderly, my dearest; you would then be moreindulgent to my weakness: I am ashamed of owning it even to you.
Ashamed, did I say? no, I rather glory in loving the most amiable,the most angelic of mankind.
Speak of him to me for ever; I abhor all conversation of which he isnot the subject. I am interrupted. Adieu!
Your faithful Emily.
My dearest, I tremble; he is at the door; how shall I meet himwithout betraying all the weakness of my heart? come to me this moment,I will not go down without you. Your father is come to fetch me;follow me, I entreat: I cannot see him alone; my heart is too muchsoftened at this moment. He must not know to what excess he is beloved.
LETTER 109.
To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Quebec, March 28.
I am at present, my dear Lucy, extremely embarrassed; Madame DesRoches is at Quebec: it is impossible for me not to be more than politeto her; yet my Emily has all my heart, and demands all my attention;there is but one way of seeing them both as often as I wish; 'tis tobring them as often as possible together: I wish extremely that Emilywould visit her, but 'tis a point of the utmost delicacy to manage.
Will it not on reflection be cruel to Madame Des Roches? I know hergenerosity of mind, but I also know the weakness of the human heart:can she see with pleasure a beloved rival?
My Lucy, I never so much wanted your advice: I will consult BellFermor, who knows every thought of my Emily's heart.
Eleven o'clock.
I have visited Madame Des Roches at her relation's; she received mewith a pleasure which was too visible not to be observed by allpresent: she blushed, her voice faltered when she addressed me; hereyes had a softness which seemed to reproach my insensibility: I wasshocked at the idea of having inspired her with a tenderness not in mypower to return; I was afraid of increasing that tenderness; I scarcedared to meet her looks.
I felt a criminal in the presence of this amiable woman; for bothour sakes, I must see her seldom: yet what an appearance will myneglect have, after the attention she has shewed me, and the friendshipshe has expressed for me to all the world?
I know not what to determine. I am going to Silleri. Adieu till myreturn.
Eight o'clock.
I have entreated Emily to admit Madame Des Roches among the numberof her friends, and have asked her to visit her to-morrow morning: shechanged color at my request, but promised to go.
I almost repent of what I have done: I am to attend Emily and BellFermor to Madame Des Roches in the morning: I am afraid I shallintroduce them with a very bad grace. Adieu!
Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 110.
To Miss Fermor.
Sunday morning.
Could you have believed he would have expected such a proof of mydesire to oblige him? but what can he ask that his Emily will refuse? Iwill see this _friend_ of his, this Madame Des Roches; I will evenlove her, if it is in woman to be so disinterested. She loves him; hesees her; they say she is amiable; I could have wished her visit toQuebec had been delayed.
But he comes; he looks up; his eyes seem to thank me for this excessof complaisance: what is there I would not do to give him pleasure?
Six o'clock.
Do you think her so very pleasing, my dear Bell? she has fine eyes,but have they not more fire than softness? There was a vivacity in hermanner which hurt me extremely: could she have behaved with suchunconcern, had she loved as I do?
Do you think it possible, Bell, for a Frenchwoman to love? is notvanity the ruling passion of their hearts?
May not Rivers be deceived in supposing her so much attached to him?was there not some degree of affectation in her particular attention tome? I cannot help thinking her artful.
Perhaps I am prejudiced: she may be amiable, but I will own she doesnot please me.
Rivers begged me to have a friendship for her; I am afraid this ismore than is in my power: friendship, like love, is the child ofsympathy, not of constraint.
Adieu! Yours, Emily Montague.
LETTER 111.
To Miss Montague.
Monday.
The inclosed, my dear, is as much to you as to me, perhaps more; Ipardon the lady for thinking you the handsomest. Is not this thestrongest proof I could give of my friendship? perhaps I should havebeen piqued, however, had the preference been given by a man; but Ican with great tranquillity allow you to be the women's beauty.
Dictate an answer to your little Bell, who waits your commands ather bureau.
Adieu!
"To Miss Fermor, at Silleri.
Monday.
"You and your lovely friend obliged me beyond words, my dear Bell,by your visit of yesterday: Madame Des Roches is charmed with youboth: you will not be displeased when I tell you she gives Emily thepreference; she says she is beautiful as an angel; that she shouldthink the man insensible, who could see her without love; that she is
_touchant_, to use her own word, beyond any thing she ever beheld.
"She however does justice to your charms, though Emily's seem toaffect her most. She even allows you to be perhaps more the taste ofmen in general.
"She intends paying her respects to you and Emily this afternoon;and has sent to desire me to conduct her. As it is so far, I would wishto find you at home.
"Yours, Ed. Rivers."
LETTER 112.
To Miss Fermor.
Always Madame Des Roches! but let her come: indeed, my dear, she isartful; she gains upon him by this appearance of generosity; I cannotreturn it, I do not love her; yet I will receive her with politeness.
He is to drive her too; but 'tis no matter; if the tenderestaffection can secure his heart, I have nothing to fear: loving him as Ido, it is impossible not to be apprehensive: indeed, my dear, he knowsnot how I love him.
Adieu! Your Emily.
LETTER 113.
To Miss Fermor.
Monday evening.
Surely I am the weakest of my weak sex; I am ashamed to tell you allmy feelings: I cannot conquer my dislike to Madame Des Roches: shesaid a thousand obliging things to me, she praised my Rivers; I madeher no answer, I even felt tears ready to start; what must she think ofme? there is a meanness in my jealousy of her, which I cannot forgivemyself.
I cannot account for her attention to me, it is not natural; shebehaved to me not only with politeness, but with the appearance ofaffection; she seemed to feel and pity my confusion. She is either themost artful, or the most noble of women.
Adieu! Your Emily.
LETTER 114.
To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Silleri, March 29.
We are going to dine at a farm house in the country, where we are tomeet other company, and have a ball: the snow begins a little tosoften, from the warmth of the sun, which is greater than in England inMay. Our winter parties are almost at an end.
My father drives Madame Des Roches, who is of our party, and yourbrother Emily; I hope the little fool will be easy now, Lucy; she isvery humble, to be jealous of one, who, though really very pleasing, isneither so young nor so handsome as herself; and who professes to wishonly for Rivers's friendship.
But I have no right to say a word on this subject, after having beenso extremely hurt at Fitzgerald's attention to such a woman as MadameLa Brosse; an attention too which was so plainly meant to pique me.
We are all, I am afraid, a little absurd in these affairs, andtherefore ought to have some degree of indulgence for others.
Emily and I, however, differ in our ideas of love: it is thebusiness of her life, the amusement of mine; 'tis the food of herhours, the seasoning of mine.
Or, in other words, she loves like a foolish woman, I like asensible man: for men, you know, compared to women, love in about theproportion of one to twenty.
'Tis a mighty wrong thing, after all, Lucy, that parents willeducate creatures so differently, who are to live with and for eachother.
Every possible means is used, even from infancy, to soften the mindsof women, and to harden those of men; the contrary endeavor might be ofuse, for the men creatures are unfeeling enough by nature, and we areborn too tremblingly alive to love, and indeed to every soft affection.
Your brother is almost the only one of his sex I know, who has thetenderness of woman with the spirit and firmness of man: a circumstancewhich strikes every woman who converses with him, and which contributesto make him the favorite he is amongst us. Foolish women who cannotdistinguish characters may possibly give the preference to a coxcomb;but I will venture to say, no woman of sense was ever much acquaintedwith Colonel Rivers without feeling for him an affection of some kindor other.
_A propos_ to women, the estimable part of us are divided intotwo classes only, the tender and the lively.
The former, at the head of which I place Emily, are infinitely morecapable of happiness; but, to counterbalance this advantage, they arealso capable of misery in the same degree. We of the other class, whofeel less keenly, are perhaps upon the whole as happy, at least I wouldfain think so.
For example, if Emily and I marry our present lovers, she willcertainly be more exquisitely happy than I shall; but if they shouldchange their minds, or any accident prevent our coming together, I aminclined to fancy my situation would be much the most agreable.
I should pout a month, and then look about for another lover; whilstthe tender Emily would
"Sit like patience on a monument,"
and pine herself into a consumption.
Adieu! They wait for me.
Yours, A. Fermor.
Tuesday, midnight.
We have had a very agreable day, Lucy, a pretty enough kind of aball, and every body in good humor: I danced with Fitzgerald, whom Inever knew so agreable.
Happy love is gay, I find; Emily is all sprightliness, yourbrother's eyes have never left her one moment, and her blushes seemedto shew her sense of the distinction; I never knew her look so handsomeas this day.
Do you know I felt for Madame Des Roches? Emily was excessivelycomplaisant to her: she returned her civility, but I could perceive akind of constraint in her manner, very different from the ease of herbehaviour when we saw her before: she felt the attention of Rivers toEmily very strongly: in short, the ladies seemed to have changedcharacters for the day.
We supped with your brother on our return, and from his windows,which look on the river St. Charles, had the pleasure of observing oneof the most beautiful objects imaginable, which I never remember tohave seen before this evening.
You are to observe the winter method of fishing here, is to breakopenings like small fish ponds on the ice, to which the fish coming forair, are taken in prodigious quantities on the surface.
To shelter themselves from the excessive cold of the night, thefishermen build small houses of ice on the river, which are arranged ina semicircular form, and extend near a quarter of a mile, and which,from the blazing fires within, have a brilliant transparency and vividlustre, not easy either to imagine or to describe: the starrysemicircle looks like an immense crescent of diamonds, on which the sundarts his meridian rays.
Absolutely, Lucy, you see nothing in Europe: you are cultivated, youhave the tame beauties of art; but to see nature in her lovely wildluxuriance, you must visit your brother when he is prince of theKamaraskas.
Adieu! Your faithful A. Fermor.
The variety, as well of grand objects, as of amusements, in thiscountry, confirms me in an opinion I have always had, that Providencehad made the conveniences and inconveniences of life nearly equal everywhere.
We have pleasures here even in winter peculiar to the climate, whichcounterbalance the evils we suffer from its rigor.
Good night, my dear Lucy!
LETTER 115.
To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Quebec, April 2.
I have this moment, my dear, a letter from Montreal, describing somelands on Lake Champlain, which my friend thinks much better worth mytaking than those near the Kamaraskas: he presses me to come upimmediately to see them, as the ice on the rivers will in a few days bedangerous to travel on.
I am strongly inclined to go, and for this reason; I am convinced mywish of bringing about a friendship between Emily and Madame DesRoches, the strongest reason I had for fixing at the Kamaraskas, was animprudent one: gratitude and (if the expression is not impertinent)compassion give me a softness in my behaviour to the latter, which asuperficial observer would take for love, and which her own tendernessmay cause even her to misconstrue; a circumstance which must retard herresolution of changing the affection with which she has honored me,into friendship.
I am also delicate in my love, and cannot bear to have it one momentsupposed, my heart can know a wish but for my Emily.
Shall I say more? The blush on Emily's cheek on her first seeingMadame Des Roches convinced me of my indiscretion, and that va
nityalone carried me to desire to bring together two women, whose affectionfor me is from their extreme merit so very flattering.
I shall certainly now fix in Canada; I can no longer doubt ofEmily's tenderness, though she refuses me her hand, from motives whichmake her a thousand times more dear to me, but which I flatter myselflove will over-rule.
I am setting off in an hour for Montreal, and shall call at Sillerito take Emily's commands.
Seven in the evening, Des Chambeaux.
I asked her advice as to fixing the place of my settlement; she saidmuch against my staying in America at all; but, if I was determined,recommended Lake Champlain rather than the Kamaraskas, on account ofclimate. Bell smiled; and a blush, which I perfectly understood,over-spread the lovely cheek of my sweet Emily. Nothing could be moreflattering than this circumstance; had she seen Madame Des Roches witha calm indifference, had she not been alarmed at the idea of fixingnear her, I should have doubted of the degree of her affection; alittle apprehension is inseparable from real love.
My courage has been to-day extremely put to the proof: had I staidthree days longer, it would have been impossible to have continued myjourney.
The ice cracks under us at every step the horses set, a ratherunpleasant circumstance on a river twenty fathom deep: I should nothave attempted the journey had I been aware of this particular. I hopeno man meets inevitable danger with more spirit, but no man is lessfond of seeking it where it is honorably to be avoided.