_Friday Morning [Paris, Dec. 1793]._
I am glad to find that other people can be unreasonable, as well as
myself--for be it known to thee, that I answered thy _first_ letter, the
very night it reached me (Sunday), though thou couldst not receive it
before Wednesday, because it was not sent off till the next day.--There is
a full, true, and particular account.--
Yet I am not angry with thee, my love, for I think that it is a proof of
stupidity, and likewise of a milk-and-water affection, which comes to the
same thing, when the temper is governed by a square and compass.--There
is nothing picturesque in this straight-lined equality, and the passions
always give grace to the actions.
Recollection now makes my heart bound to thee; but, it is not to thy
money-getting face, though I cannot be seriously displeased with the
exertion which increases my esteem, or rather is what I should have
expected from thy character.--No; I have thy honest countenance before
me--Pop--relaxed by tenderness; a little--little wounded by my whims; and
thy eyes glistening with sympathy.--Thy lips then feel softer than
soft--and I rest my cheek on thine, forgetting all the world.--I have not
left the hue of love out of the picture--the rosy glow; and fancy has
spread it over my own cheeks, I believe, for I feel them burning, whilst a
delicious tear trembles in my eye, that would be all your own, if a
grateful emotion directed to the Father of nature, who has made me thus
alive to happiness, did not give more warmth to the sentiment it
divides--I must pause a moment.
Need I tell you that I am tranquil after writing thus?--I do not know why,
but I have more confidence in your affection, when absent, than present;
nay, I think that you must love me, for, in the sincerity of my heart let
me say it, I believe I deserve your tenderness, because I am true, and
have a degree of sensibility that you can see and relish.
Yours sincerely,
MARY.