I WROTE to you yesterday, my ----; but, finding that the colonel is still detained (for his pa.s.sport was forgotten at the office yesterday) I am not willing to let so many days elapse without your hearing from me, after having talked of illness and apprehensions.

I cannot boast of being quite recovered, yet I am (I must use my Yorkshire phrase; for, when my heart is warm, pop come the expressions of childhood into my head) so _lightsome_, that I think it will not _go badly with me_.--And nothing shall be wanting on my part, I a.s.sure you; for I am urged on, not only by an enlivened affection for you, but by a new-born tenderness that plays cheerly round my dilating heart.

I was therefore, in defiance of cold and dirt, out in the air the greater part of yesterday; and, if I get over this evening without a return of the fever that has tormented me, I shall talk no more of illness. I have promised the little creature, that its mother, who ought to cherish it, will not again plague it, and begged it to pardon me; and, since I could not hug either it or you to my breast, I have to my heart.--I am afraid to read over this prattle--but it is only for your eye.

I have been seriously vexed, to find that, whilst you were harra.s.sed by impediments in your undertakings, I was giving you additional uneasiness.--If you can make any of your plans answer--it is well, I do not think a _little_ money inconvenient; but, should they fail, we will struggle cheerfully together--drawn closer by the pinching blasts of poverty.

Adieu, my love! Write often to your poor girl, and write long letters; for I not only like them for being longer, but because more heart steals into them; and I am happy to catch your heart whenever I can.

Yours sincerely

LETTER XVI.

Tuesday Morning.

I SEIZE this opportunity to inform you, that I am to set out on Thursday with Mr. ------, and hope to tell you soon (on your lips) how glad I shall be to see you. I have just got my pa.s.sport, so I do not foresee any impediment to my reaching H----, to bid you good-night next Friday in my new apartment--where I am to meet you and love, in spite of care, to smile me to sleep--for I have not caught much rest since we parted.

You have, by your tenderness and worth, twisted yourself more artfully round my heart, than I supposed possible.--Let me indulge the thought, that I have thrown out some tendrils to cling to the elm by which I wish to be supported.--This is talking a new language for me!--But, knowing that I am not a parasite-plant, I am willing to receive the proofs of affection, that every pulse replies to, when I think of being once more in the same house with you.--G.o.d bless you!

Yours truly

LETTER XVII.

Wednesday Morning.

I ONLY send this as an _avant-coureur_, without jack-boots, to tell you, that I am again on the wing, and hope to be with you a few hours after you receive it. I shall find you well, and composed, I am sure; or, more properly speaking, cheerful.--What is the reason that my spirits are not as manageable as yours? Yet, now I think of it, I will not allow that your temper is even, though I have promised myself, in order to obtain my own forgiveness, that I will not ruffle it for a long, long time--I am afraid to say never.

Farewell for a moment!--Do not forget that I am driving towards you in person! My mind, unfettered, has flown to you long since, or rather has never left you.

I am well, and have no apprehension that I shall find the journey too fatiguing, when I follow the lead of my heart.--With my face turned to H--my spirits will not sink--and my mind has always. .h.i.therto enabled my body to do whatever I wished.

Yours affectionately

LETTER XVIII.

H--, Thursday Morning, March 12.

WE are such creatures of habit, my love, that, though I cannot say I was sorry, childishly so, for your going, when I knew that you were to stay such a short time, and I had a plan of employment; yet I could not sleep.--I turned to your side of the bed, and tried to make the most of the comfort of the pillow, which you used to tell me I was churlish about; but all would not do.--I took nevertheless my walk before breakfast, though the weather was not very inviting--and here I am, wishing you a finer day, and seeing you peep over my shoulder, as I write, with one of your kindest looks--when your eyes glisten, and a suffusion creeps over your relaxing features.

But I do not mean to dally with you this morning--So G.o.d bless you! Take care of yourself--and sometimes fold to your heart your affectionate

LETTER XIX.

DO not call me stupid, for leaving on the table the little bit of paper I was to inclose.--This comes of being in love at the f.a.g-end of a letter of business.--You know, you say, they will not chime together.--I had got you by the fire-side, with the _gigot_ smoking on the board, to lard your poor bare ribs--and behold, I closed my letter without taking the paper up, that was directly under my eyes!--What had I got in them to render me so blind?--I give you leave to answer the question, if you will not scold; for I am

Yours most affectionately

LETTER XX.

Sunday, August 17.

I have promised ------ to go with him to his country-house, where he is now permitted to dine--I, and the little darling, to be sure[47-A]--whom I cannot help kissing with more fondness, since you left us. I think I shall enjoy the fine prospect, and that it will rather enliven, than satiate my imagination.

I have called on Mrs. ------. She has the manners of a gentlewoman, with a dash of the easy French coquetry, which renders her _piquante_.--But _Monsieur_ her husband, whom nature never dreamed of casting in either the mould of a gentleman or lover, makes but an aukward figure in the foreground of the picture.

The H----s are very ugly, without doubt--and the house smelt of commerce from top to toe--so that his abortive attempt to display taste, only proved it to be one of the things not to be bought with gold. I was in a room a moment alone, and my attention was attracted by the _pendule_--A nymph was offering up her vows before a smoking altar, to a fat-bottomed Cupid (saving your presence), who was kicking his heels in the air.--Ah!

kick on, thought I; for the demon of traffic will ever fright away the loves and graces, that streak with the rosy beams of infant fancy the _sombre_ day of life--whilst the imagination, not allowing us to see things as they are, enables us to catch a hasty draught of the running stream of delight, the thirst for which seems to be given only to tantalize us.

But I am philosophizing; nay, perhaps you will call me severe, and bid me let the square-headed money-getters alone.--Peace to them! though none of the social sprites (and there are not a few of different descriptions, who sport about the various inlets to my heart) gave me a twitch to restrain my pen.

I have been writing on, expecting poor ------ to come; for, when I began, I merely thought of business; and, as this is the idea that most naturally a.s.sociates with your image, I wonder I stumbled on any other.

Yet, as common life, in my opinion, is scarcely worth having, even with a _gigot_ every day, and a pudding added thereunto, I will allow you to cultivate my judgment, if you will permit me to keep alive the sentiments in your heart, which may be termed romantic, because, the offspring of the senses and the imagination, they resemble the mother more than the father[50-A], when they produce the suffusion I admire.--In spite of icy age, I hope still to see it, if you have not determined only to eat and drink, and be stupidly useful to the stupid--

Yours

LETTER XXI.

H--, August 19, Tuesday.

I RECEIVED both your letters to-day--I had reckoned on hearing from you yesterday, therefore was disappointed, though I imputed your silence to the right cause. I intended answering your kind letter immediately, that you might have felt the pleasure it gave me; but ------ came in, and some other things interrupted me; so that the fine vapour has evaporated--yet, leaving a sweet scent behind, I have only to tell you, what is sufficiently obvious, that the earnest desire I have shown to keep my place, or gain more ground in your heart, is a sure proof how necessary your affection is to my happiness.--Still I do not think it false delicacy, or foolish pride, to wish that your attention to my happiness should arise _as much_ from love, which is always rather a selfish pa.s.sion, as reason--that is, I want you to promote my felicity, by seeking your own.--For, whatever pleasure it may give me to discover your generosity of soul, I would not be dependent for your affection on the very quality I most admire. No; there are qualities in your heart, which demand my affection; but, unless the attachment appears to me clearly mutual, I shall labour only to esteem your character, instead of cherishing a tenderness for your person.