'Twas Emily and Mrs. Melmoth, with two or three very pretty French
women; your brother is a happy man: I found tea and coffee under the
awning, and a table loaded with Montreal fruit, which is vastly better
than ours; by the way, the colonel has brought me an immensity; he is
so gallant and all that: we regaled ourselves, and landed; they dine
here, and we dance in the evening; we are to have a syllabub in the
wood: my father has sent for Sir George and Major Melmoth, and half a
dozen of the most agreable men, from Quebec: he is enchanted with his
little Emily, he loved her when she was a child. I cannot tell you how
happy I am; my Emily is handsomer than ever; you know how partial I am
to beauty: I never had a friendship for an ugly woman in my life.
Adieu! _ma tres chere_.
Yours,
A. Fermor.
Your brother looks like an angel this morning; he is not drest, he
is not undrest, but somehow, easy, elegant and enchanting: he has no
powder, and his hair a little _degagée_, blown about by the wind,
and agreably disordered; such fire in his countenance; his eyes say a
thousand agreable things; he is in such spirits as I never saw him:
not a man of them has the least chance to-day. I shall be in love with
him if he goes on at this rate: not that it will be to any purpose in
the world; he never would even flirt with me, though I have made him a
thousand advances.
My heart is so light, Lucy, I cannot describe it: I love Emily at my
soul: 'tis three years since I saw her, and there is something so
romantic in finding her in Canada: there is no saying how happy I am: I
want only you, to be perfectly so.