_Monday Night [Paris, Dec. 30, 1793]._
My best love, your letter to-night was particularly grateful to my heart,
depressed by the letters I received by ----, for he brought me several,
and the parcel of books directed to Mr. ---- was for me. Mr. ----'s letter
was long and very affectionate; but the account he gives me of his own
affairs, though he obviously makes the best of them, has vexed me.
A melancholy letter from my sister ---- has also harrassed my mind--that
from my brother would have given me sincere pleasure; but for
* * * * *
There is a spirit of independence in his letter, that will please you; and
you shall see it, when we are once more over the fire together.--I think
that you would hail him as a brother, with one of your tender looks, when
your heart not only gives a lustre to your eye, but a dance of
playfulness, that he would meet with a glow half made up of bashfulness,
and a desire to please the----where shall I find a word to express the
relationship which subsists between us?--Shall I ask the little
twitcher?--But I have dropt half the sentence that was to tell you how
much he would be inclined to love the man loved by his sister. I have been
fancying myself sitting between you, ever since I began to write, and my
heart has leaped at the thought! You see how I chat to you.
I did not receive your letter till I came home; and I did not expect it,
for the post came in much later than usual. It was a cordial to me--and I
wanted one.
Mr. ---- tells me that he has written again and again.--Love him a
little!--It would be a kind of separation, if you did not love those I
love.
There was so much considerate tenderness in your epistle to-night, that,
if it has not made you dearer to me, it has made me forcibly feel how very
dear you are to me, by charming away half my cares.
Yours affectionately.
MARY.