_The Answer_
_Alicant_
I am just arrived at this place, after a tedious and disagreeable
voyage. As we passed along the coast of Barbary we came in sight of many
of the corsairs with which that part of the world is infested. One of
them in particular, of larger burden than the rest, gave us chace, and
for some time we thought ourselves in considerable danger. Our ship
however proved the faster sailer, and quickly carried us out of sight.
Having escaped this danger, and nearly reached the Baleares, we were
overtaken by a tremendous storm. For some days the ship was driven at
the mercy of the winds; and, as the coast of those islands is surrounded
with invisible rocks, our peril was considerable.
In the midst of danger however my thoughts were full of Matilda. Had the
ocean buried me in its capacious bosom, my last words would have been of
you, my last vows would have been made for your happiness. Had we been
taken by the enemy and carried into slavery, slavery would have had no
terrors, but those which consisted in the additional bars it would have
created between me and the mistress of my heart. It would have been of
little importance whether I had fallen to the lot of a despot, gentle or
severe. It would have separated us for years, perhaps for ever. Could I,
who have been so much afflicted by the separation of a few months, have
endured a punishment like this? That soft intercourse, that wafts the
thoughts of lovers to so vast a distance, that mimics so well an actual
converse, that cheats the weary heart of all its cares, would have been
dissolved for ever. Little then would have been the moment of a few
petty personal considerations; I should not long have survived.
I only wait at this place to refresh myself for a few days, from a
fatigue so perfectly new to me, and then shall set out with all speed
for Madrid. My Matilda will readily believe that that business which
detains me at so vast a distance from my happiness, will be dispatched
with as much expedition as its nature will admit. I will not sacrifice
to any selfish considerations the interest of my friend, I will not
neglect the minutest exertion by which it may be in my power to serve
his cause. But the moment I have discharged what I owe to him, no power
upon earth shall delay my return, no not for an hour.
I have seen little as yet of that people of whom I have entertained
so favourable ideas. But what I have seen has perfectly equalled my
expectation. Their carriage indeed is cold and formal, beyond what it is
possible for any man to have a conception of, who has not witnessed it.
But those persons to whom I had letters have received me with the utmost
attention and politeness. Sincerity is visible in all they do, and
constancy in all their modes of thinking. There is not a man among them,
who has once distinguished you, and whose favour it is possible for you
to forfeit without having deserved it. Will not an upright and honest
mind pardon many defects to a virtue like this?
Oh, my Matilda, shall I recommend to you to remember your St. Julian, to
carry the thoughts of him every where about with you? Shall I make to
you a thousand vows of unalterable attachment? No, best of women, I will
not thus insult the integrity of your heart. I will not thus profane
the purity of our loves. The world in all its treasure has not a second
Matilda, and if it had, my heart is fixed, all the tender sensibilities
of my soul are exhausted. Your St. Julian was not made to change with
every wind.