To Colonel Rivers, Clarges Street.
Rose-hill, Sept. 21.
Is it then possible? can my Rivers doubt his Emily's tenderness?
Do I only esteem you, my Rivers? can my eyes have so ill explained
the feelings of my heart?
You accuse me of not sharing your impatience: do you then allow
nothing to the modesty, the blushing delicacy, of my sex?
Could you see into my soul, you would cease to call me cold and
insensible.
Can you forget, my Rivers, those moments, when, doubtful of the
sentiments of your heart, mine every instant betrayed its weakness?
when every look spoke the resistless fondness of my soul! when, lost in
the delight of seeing you, I forgot I was almost the wife of another?
But I will say no more; my Rivers tells me I have already said too
much: he is displeased with his Emily's tenderness; he complains, that
I tell him too often I love him.
You say I can give but one certain proof of my affection.
I will give you that proof: I will be yours whenever you please,
though ruin should be the consequence to both; I despise every other
consideration, when my Rivers's happiness is at stake: is there any
request he is capable of making, which his Emily will refuse?
You are the arbiter of my fate: I have no will but yours; yet I
entreat you to believe no common cause could have made me hazard giving
a moment's pain to that dear bosom: you will one time know to what
excess I have loved you.
Were the empire of the world or your affection offered me, I should
not hesitate one moment on the choice, even were I certain never to see
you more.
I cannot form an idea of happiness equal to that of being beloved by
the most amiable of mankind.
Judge then, if I would lightly wish to defer an event, which is to
give me the transport of passing my life in the dear employment of
making him happy.
I only entreat that you will decline asking me, till I judge proper
to tell you, why I first begged our marriage might be deferred: let it
be till then forgot I ever made such a request.
You will not, my dear Rivers, refuse this proof of complaisance to
her who too plainly shews she can refuse you nothing.
Adieu! Yours,
Emily Montague.