To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Quebec, Feb. 11.
Would one think it possible, Lucy, that Sir George should console
himself for the loss of all that is lovely in woman, by the sordid
prospect of acquiring, by an interested marriage, a little more of that
wealth of which he has already much more than he can either enjoy or
become? By what wretched motives are half mankind influenced in the
most important action of their lives!
The vulgar of every rank expect happiness where it is not to be
found, in the ideal advantages of splendor and dissipation; those who
dare to think, those minds who partake of the celestial fire, seek it
in the real solid pleasures of nature and soft affection.
I have seen my lovely Emily since I wrote to you; I shall not see
her again of some days; I do not intend at present to make my visits to
Silleri so frequent as I have done lately, lest the world, ever
studious to blame, should misconstrue her conduct on this very delicate
occasion. I am even afraid to shew my usual attention to her when
present, lest she herself should think I presume on the politeness she
has ever shewn me, and see her breaking with Sir George in a false
light: the greater I think her obliging partiality to me, the more
guarded I ought to be in my behaviour to her; her situation has some
resemblance to widowhood, and she has equal decorums to observe.
I cannot however help encouraging a pleasing hope that I am not
absolutely indifferent to her: her lovely eyes have a softness when
they meet mine, to which words cannot do justice: she talks less to me
than to others, but it is in a tone of voice which penetrates my soul;
and when I speak, her attention is most flattering, though of a nature
not to be seen by common observers; without seeming to distinguish me
from the crowd who strive to engage her esteem and friendship, she has
a manner of addressing me which the heart alone can feel; she contrives
to prevent my appearing to give her any preference to the rest of her
sex, yet I have seen her blush at my civility to another.
She has at least a friendship for me, which alone would make the
happiness of my life; and which I would prefer to the love of the most
charming woman imagination could form, sensible as I am to the sweetest
of all passions: this friendship, however, time and assiduity may ripen
into love; at least I should be most unhappy if I did not think so.
I love her with a tenderness of which few of my sex are capable: you
have often told me, and you were right, that my heart has all the
sensibility of woman.
A mail is arrived, by which I hope to hear from you; I must hurry to
the post office; you shall hear again in a few days.
Adieu!
Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.