_[June 17, 1795] Wednesday Morning._
I was hurried on board yesterday about three o'clock, the wind having
changed. But before evening it veered round to the old point; and here we
are, in the midst of mists and water, only taking advantage of the tide to
advance a few miles.
You will scarcely suppose that I left the town with reluctance--yet it was
even so--for I wished to receive another letter from you, and I felt pain
at parting, for ever perhaps, from the amiable family, who had treated me
with so much hospitality and kindness. They will probably send me your
letter, if it arrives this morning; for here we are likely to remain, I am
afraid to think how long.
The vessel is very commodious, and the captain a civil, open-hearted kind
of man. There being no other passengers, I have the cabin to myself,
which is pleasant; and I have brought a few books with me to beguile
weariness; but I seem inclined, rather to employ the dead moments of
suspence in writing some effusions, than in reading.
What are you about? How are your affairs going on? It may be a long time
before you answer these questions. My dear friend, my heart sinks within
me!--Why am I forced thus to struggle continually with my affections and
feelings?--Ah! why are those affections and feelings the source of so much
misery, when they seem to have been given to vivify my heart, and extend
my usefulness! But I must not dwell on this subject.--Will you not
endeavour to cherish all the affection you can for me? What am I
saying?--Rather forget me, if you can--if other gratifications are dearer
to you.--How is every remembrance of mine embittered by disappointment?
What a world is this!--They only seem happy, who never look beyond
sensual or artificial enjoyments.--Adieu!
Fanny begins to play with the cabin-boy, and is as gay as a lark.--I will
labour to be tranquil; and am in every mood,
Yours sincerely
MARY.