_Havre, August 19 [1794] Tuesday._
I received both your letters to-day--I had reckoned on hearing from you
yesterday, therefore was disappointed, though I imputed your silence to
the right cause. I intended answering your kind letter immediately, that
you might have felt the pleasure it gave me; but ---- came in, and some
other things interrupted me; so that the fine vapour has evaporated--yet,
leaving a sweet scent behind, I have only to tell you, what is
sufficiently obvious, that the earnest desire I have shown to keep my
place, or gain more ground in your heart, is a sure proof how necessary
your affection is to my happiness.--Still I do not think it false
delicacy, or foolish pride, to wish that your attention to my happiness
should arise _as much_ from love, which is always rather a selfish
passion, as reason--that is, I want you to promote my felicity, by seeking
your own.--For, whatever pleasure it may give me to discover your
generosity of soul, I would not be dependent for your affection on the
very quality I most admire. No; there are qualities in your heart, which
demand my affection; but, unless the attachment appears to me clearly
mutual, I shall labour only to esteem your character, instead of
cherishing a tenderness for your person.
I write in a hurry, because the little one, who has been sleeping a long
time, begins to call for me. Poor thing! when I am sad, I lament that all
my affections grow on me, till they become too strong for my peace, though
they all afford me snatches of exquisite enjoyment--This for our little
girl was at first very reasonable--more the effect of reason, a sense of
duty, than feeling--now, she has got into my heart and imagination, and
when I walk out without her, her little figure is ever dancing before me.
You too have somehow clung round my heart--I found I could not eat my
dinner in the great room--and, when I took up the large knife to carve for
myself, tears rushed into my eyes.--Do not however suppose that I am
melancholy--for, when you are from me, I not only wonder how I can find
fault with you--but how I can doubt your affection.
I will not mix any comments on the inclosed (it roused my indignation)
with the effusion of tenderness, with which I assure you, that you are the
friend of my bosom, and the prop of my heart.