To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.
Quebec, August 24.
I cannot, Madam, express my obligation to you for having added a
postscript to Major Melmoth's letter: I am sure he will excuse my
answering the whole to you; if not, I beg he may know that I shall be
very pert about it, being much more solicitous to please you than him,
for a thousand reasons too tedious to mention.
I thought you had more penetration than to suppose me indifferent:
on the contrary, sensibility is my fault; though it is not your little
every-day beauties who can excite it: I have admirable dispositions to
love, though I am hard to please: in short, _I am not cruel, I am
only nice_: do but you, or your divine friend, give me leave to wear
your chains, and you shall soon be convinced I can love _like an
angel_, when I set in earnest about it. But, alas! you are married,
and in love with your husband; and your friend is in a situation still
more unfavorable to a lover's hopes. This is particularly unfortunate,
as you are the only two of your bewitching sex in Canada, for whom my
heart feels the least sympathy. To be plain, but don't tell the little
Major, I am more than half in love with you both, and, if I was the
grand Turk, should certainly fit out a fleet, to seize, and bring you
to my seraglio.
There is one virtue I admire extremely in you both; I mean, that
humane and tender compassion for the poor men, which prompts you to be
always seen together; if you appeared separate, where is the hero who
could resist either of you?
You ask me how I like the French ladies at Montreal: I think them
extremely pleasing; and many of them handsome; I thought Madame
L---- so, even near you and Miss Montague; which is, I think, saying as
much as can be said on the subject.
I have just heard by accident that Sir George is arrived at
Montreal. Assure Miss Montague, no one can be more warmly interested in
her happiness than I am: she is the most perfect work of Heaven; may
she be the happiest! I feel much more on this occasion than I can
express: a mind like hers must, in marriage, be exquisitely happy or
miserable: my friendship makes me tremble for her, notwithstanding the
worthy character I have heard of Sir George.