To Miss Fermor, at Silleri.
Pall Mall, April 8.
Whilst I was sealing my letter, I received yours of the 1st of
February.
I am excessively alarmed, my dear, at the account it gives me of
Miss Montague's having broke with her lover, and of my brother's
extreme affection for her.
I did not dare to let my mother see that letter, as I am convinced
the very idea of a marriage which must for ever separate her from a son
she loves to idolatry, would be fatal to her; she is altered since his
leaving England more than you can imagine; she is grown pale and thin,
her vivacity has entirely left her. Even my marriage scarce seemed to
give her pleasure; yet such is her delicacy, her ardor for his
happiness, she will not suffer me to say this to him, lest it should
constrain him, and prevent his making himself happy in his own way. I
often find her in tears in her apartment; she affects a smile when she
sees me, but it is a smile which cannot deceive one who knows her whole
soul as I do. In short, I am convinced she will not live long unless my
brother returns. She never names him without being softened to a
degree not to be expressed.
Amiable and lovely as you represent this charming woman, and great
as the sacrifice is she has made to my brother, it seems almost cruelty
to wish to break his attachment to her; yet, situated as they are, what
can be the consequence of their indulging their tenderness at present,
but ruin to both?
At all events, however, my dear, I intreat, I conjure you, to press
my brother's immediate return to England; I am convinced, my mother's
life depends on seeing him.
I have often been tempted to write to Miss Montague, to use her
influence with him even against herself.
If she loves him, she will have his true happiness at heart; she
will consider what a mind like his must hereafter suffer, should his
fondness for her be fatal to the best of mothers; she will urge, she
will oblige him to return, and make this step the condition of
preserving her tenderness.
Read this letter to her; and tell her, it is to her affection for my
brother, to her generosity, I trust for the life of a parent who is
dearer to me than my existence.
Tell her my heart is hers, that I will receive her as my guardian
angel, that we will never part, that we will be friends, that we will
be sisters, that I will omit nothing possible to make her happy with my
brother in England, and that I have very rational hopes it may be in
time accomplished; but that, if she marries him in Canada, and suffers
him to pursue his present design, she plants a dagger in the bosom of
her who gave him life.
I scarce know what I would say, my dear Bell; but I am wretched; I
have no hope but in you. Yet if Emily is all you represent her--
I am obliged to break off: my mother is here; she must not see this
letter.
Adieu! your affectionate
Lucy Temple.