To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Silleri, May 25.
I am unhappy beyond all words; my sweet Emily is gone to England;
the ship sailed this morning: I am just returned from the beach, after
conducting her on board.
I used every art, every persuasion, in the power of friendship, to
prevent her going till your brother came down; but all I said was in
vain. She told me, she knew too well her own weakness to hazard seeing
him; that she also knew his tenderness, and was resolved to spare him
the struggle between his affection and his duty; that she was
determined never to marry him but with the consent of his mother; that
their meeting at Quebec, situated as they were, could only be the
source of unhappiness to both; that her heart doated on him, but that
she would never be the cause of his acting in a manner unworthy his
character: that she would see his family the moment she got to London,
and then retire to the house of a relation in Berkshire, where she
would wait for his arrival.
That she had given you her promise, which nothing should make her
break, to embark in the first ship for England.
She expressed no fears for herself as to the voyage, but trembled at
the idea of her Rivers's danger.
She sat down several times yesterday to write to him, but her tears
prevented her: she at last assumed courage enough to tell him her
design; but it was in such terms as convinced me she could not have
pursued it, had he been here.
She went to the ship with an appearance of calmness that astonished
me; but the moment she entered, all her resolution forsook her: she
retired with me to her room, where she gave way to all the agony of her
soul.
The word was given to sail; I was summoned away; she rose hastily,
she pressed me to her bosom, "Tell him, said she, his Emily"--she
could say no more.
Never in my life did I feel any sorrow equal to this separation.
Love her, my Lucy; you can never have half the tenderness for her she
merits.
She stood on the deck till the ship turned Point Levi, her eyes
fixed passionately on our boat.
Twelve o'clock.
I have this moment a letter from your brother to Emily, which she
directed me to open, and send to her; I inclose it to you, as the
safest way of conveyance: there is one in it from Temple to him, on the
same subject with yours to me.
Adieu! I will write again when my mind is more composed.
Yours,
A. Fermor.