To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.
London, Sept. 18.
I have this moment your letter; we are setting out in ten minutes
for Rose-hill, where I will finish this, and hope to give you a
pleasing account of your Emily.
You are certainly right in keeping this proposal secret at present;
depend on our silence; I could, however, wish you the fortune, were it
possible to have it without the lady.
Were I to praise your delicacy on this occasion, I should injure
you; it was not in your power to act differently; you are only
consistent with yourself.
I am pleased with your idea of a situation: a house embosomed in the
grove, where all the view is what the eye can take in, speaks a happy
master, content at home; a wide-extended prospect, one who is looking
abroad for happiness.
I love the country: the taste for rural scenes is the taste born
with us. After seeking pleasure in vain amongst the works of art, we
are forced to come back to the point from whence we set out, and find
our enjoyment in the lovely simplicity of nature.
Rose-hill, Evening.
I am afraid Emily knows your secret; she has been in tears almost
ever since we came; the servant is going to the post-office, and I have
but a moment to tell you we will stay here till your arrival, which
you will hasten as much as possible.
Adieu!
Your affectionate
J. Fitzgerald.