To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
I have been with Emily, who has been reading Mrs. Clayton's letter; I
saw joy sparkle in her eyes as she went on, her little heart seemed to
flutter with transport; I see two things very clearly, one of which
is, that she never loved this little insipid Baronet; the other I leave
your sagacity to find out. All the spirit of her countenance is
returned: she walks in air; her cheeks have the blush of pleasure; I
never saw so astonishing a change. I never felt more joy from the
acquisition of a new lover, than she seems to find in the prospect of
losing an old one.
She has written to Sir George, and in a style that I know will hurt
him; for though I believe he wishes her to give him up, yet his vanity
would desire it should cost her very dear; and appear the effort of
disinterested love, and romantic generosity, not what it really is, the
effect of the most tranquil and perfect indifference.
By the way, a disinterested mistress is, according to my ideas, a
mistress who _fancies_ she loves: we may talk what we please, at a
distance, of sacrificing the dear man to his interest, and promoting
his happiness by destroying our own; but when it comes to the point, I
am rather inclined to believe all women are of my way of thinking; and
let me die if I would give up a man I loved to the first dutchess in
Christendom: 'tis all mighty well in theory; but for the practical
part, let who will believe it for Bell.
Indeed when a woman finds her lover inclined to change, 'tis good to
make a virtue of necessity, and give the thing a sentimental turn,
which gratifies his vanity, and does not wound one's own.
Adieu! I see Sir George and his fine carriole; I must run, and tell
Emily.
Ever yours,
A. Fermor.