To Miss Montague, at Silleri.
Montreal, May 28.
It was my wish, my hope, my noblest ambition, my dear Emily, to see
you in a situation worthy of you; my sanguine temper flattered me with
the idea of seeing this wish accomplished in Canada, though fortune
denied it me in England.
The letter which I inclose has put an end to those fond delusive
hopes: I must return immediately to England; did not my own heart
dictate this step, I know too well the goodness of yours, to expect the
continuance of your esteem, were I capable of purchasing happiness,
even the happiness of calling you mine, at the expence of my mother's
life, or even of her quiet.
I must now submit to see my Emily in an humbler situation; to see
her want those pleasures, those advantages, those honors, which fortune
gives, and which she has so nobly sacrificed to true delicacy of mind,
and, if I do not flatter myself, to her generous and disinterested
affection for me.
Be assured, my dearest angel, the inconveniencies attendant on a
narrow fortune, the only one I have to offer, shall be softened by all
which the most lively esteem, the most perfect friendship, the
tenderest love, can inspire; by that attention, that unwearied
solicitude to please, of which the heart alone knows the value.
Fortune has no power over minds like ours; we possess a treasure to
which all she has to give is nothing, the dear exquisite delight of
loving, and of being beloved.
Awake to all the finer feelings of tender esteem and elegant desire,
we have every real good in each other.
I shall hurry down, the moment I have settled my affairs here; and
hope soon to have the transport of presenting the most charming of
friends, of mistresses, allow me to add, of wives, to a mother whom I
love and revere beyond words, and to whom she will soon be dearer than
myself.
My going to England will detain me at Montreal a few days longer
than I intended; a delay I can very ill support.
Adieu! my Emily! no language can express my tenderness or my
impatience.
Your faithful
Ed. Rivers.