Twelve o'clock.
My mother has this moment a second letter from her relation, who is
coming home, and proposes a marriage between me and his daughter, to
whom he will give twenty thousand pounds now, and the rest of his
fortune at his death.
As Emily's fault, if love can allow her one, is an excess of
romantic generosity, the fault of most uncorrupted female minds, I am
very anxious to marry her before she knows of this proposal, lest she
should think it a proof of tenderness to aim at making me wretched, in
order to make me rich.
I therefore entreat you and Mrs. Fitzgerald to stay at Rose-hill,
and prevent her coming to town, till she is mine past the power of
retreat.
Our relation may have mentioned his design to persons less prudent
than our little party; and she may hear of it, if she is in London.
But, independently of my fear of her spirit of romance, I feel that
it would be an indelicacy to let her know of this proposal at present,
and look like attempting to make a merit of my refusal.
It is not to you, my dear friend, I need say the gifts of fortune
are nothing to me without her for whose sake alone I wish to possess
them: you know my heart, and you also know this is the sentiment of
every man who loves.
But I can with truth say much more; I do not even wish an increase
of fortune, considering it abstractedly from its being incompatible
with my marriage with the loveliest of women; I am indifferent to all
but independence; wealth would not make me happier; on the contrary, it
might break in on my present little plan of enjoyment, by forcing me to
give to common acquaintance, of whom wealth will always attract a
crowd, those precious hours devoted to friendship and domestic
pleasure.
I think my present income just what a wise man would wish, and very
sincerely join in the philosophical prayer of the royal prophet, "Give
me neither poverty nor riches."
I love the vale, and had always an aversion to very extensive
prospects.
I will hasten my coming as much as possible, and hope to be at
Rose-hill on Monday next: I shall be a prey to anxiety till Emily is
irrevocably mine.
Tell Mrs. Fitzgerald, I am all impatience to kiss her hand.
Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.