To Miss Montague, at Quebec.
I congratulate you, my dear; you will at least have the pleasure of
being five or six months longer your own mistress; which, in my
opinion, when one is not violently in love, is a consideration worth
attending to. You will also have time to see whether you like any body
else better; and you know you can take him if you please at last.
Send him up to his regiment at Montreal with the Melmoths; stay the
winter with me, flirt with somebody else to try the strength of your
passion, and, if it holds out against six months absence, and the
attention of an agreable fellow, I think you may safely venture to
marry him.
_A propos_ to flirting, have you seen Colonel Rivers? He has
not been here these two days. I shall begin to be jealous of this
little impertinent Mademoiselle Clairaut. Adieu!
Yours,
A. Fermor.
Rivers is absurd. I have a mighty foolish letter from him; he is
rambling about the country, buying estates: he had better have been
here, playing the fool with us; if I knew how to write to him I would
tell him so, but he is got out of the range of human beings, down the
river, Heaven knows where; he says a thousand civil things to you, but
I will bring the letter with me to save the trouble of repeating them.
I have a sort of an idea he won't be very unhappy at this delay; I
want vastly to send him word of it.
Adieu! _ma chere_.