The History of Emily Montague Part 44

Silleri, May 24.

Emily has wrote to you, and appears more composed; she does not however tell me what she has resolved; she has only mentioned a design of spending a week at Quebec. I suppose she will take no resolution till your brother comes down: he cannot be here in less than ten days.

She has heard from him, and he has fixed on a settlement: depend however on his return to England, even if it is not to stay. I wish he could prevail on Mrs. Rivers to accompany him back. The advantages of his design are too great to lose; the voyage is nothing; the climate healthy beyond all conception.

I fancy he will marry as soon as he comes down from Montreal, set off in the first s.h.i.+p for England, leave Emily with me, and return to us next year: at least, this is the plan my heart has formed.

I wish Mrs. Rivers had born his absence better; her impatience to see him has broken in on all our schemes; Emily and I had in fancy formed a little Eden on Lake Champlain: Fitzgerald had promised me to apply for lands near them; we should have been so happy in our little new world of friends.h.i.+p.

There is nothing certain in this vile state of existence: I could philosophize extremely well this morning.

All our little plans of amus.e.m.e.nt too for this summer are now at an end; your brother was the soul of all our parties. This is a trifle, but my mind to-day seeks for every subject of chagrin.

Let but my Emily be happy, and I will not complain, even if I lose her: I have a thousand fears, a thousand uneasy reflections: if you knew her merit, you would not wish to break the attachment.

My sweet Emily is going this morning to Quebec; I have promised to accompany her, and she now waits for me.

I cannot write: I have a heaviness about my heart, which has never left me since I read your letter. 'Tis the only disagreable one I ever received from my dear Lucy: I am not sure I love you so well as before I saw this letter. There is something unfeeling in the style of it, which I did not expect from you.

Adieu! your faithful A. Fermor.

LETTER 147.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Silleri, May 25.

I am unhappy beyond all words; my sweet Emily is gone to England; the s.h.i.+p sailed this morning: I am just returned from the beach, after conducting her on board.

I used every art, every persuasion, in the power of friends.h.i.+p, to prevent her going till your brother came down; but all I said was in vain. She told me, she knew too well her own weakness to hazard seeing him; that she also knew his tenderness, and was resolved to spare him the struggle between his affection and his duty; that she was determined never to marry him but with the consent of his mother; that their meeting at Quebec, situated as they were, could only be the source of unhappiness to both; that her heart doated on him, but that she would never be the cause of his acting in a manner unworthy his character: that she would see his family the moment she got to London, and then retire to the house of a relation in Berks.h.i.+re, where she would wait for his arrival.

That she had given you her promise, which nothing should make her break, to embark in the first s.h.i.+p for England.

She expressed no fears for herself as to the voyage, but trembled at the idea of her Rivers's danger.

She sat down several times yesterday to write to him, but her tears prevented her: she at last a.s.sumed courage enough to tell him her design; but it was in such terms as convinced me she could not have pursued it, had he been here.

She went to the s.h.i.+p with an appearance of calmness that astonished me; but the moment she entered, all her resolution forsook her: she retired with me to her room, where she gave way to all the agony of her soul.

The word was given to sail; I was summoned away; she rose hastily, she pressed me to her bosom, "Tell him, said she, his Emily"--she could say no more.

Never in my life did I feel any sorrow equal to this separation.

Love her, my Lucy; you can never have half the tenderness for her she merits.

She stood on the deck till the s.h.i.+p turned Point Levi, her eyes fixed pa.s.sionately on our boat.

Twelve o'clock.

I have this moment a letter from your brother to Emily, which she directed me to open, and send to her; I inclose it to you, as the safest way of conveyance: there is one in it from Temple to him, on the same subject with yours to me.

Adieu! I will write again when my mind is more composed.

Yours, A. Fermor.

LETTER 148.

To Miss Montague, at Silleri.

Montreal, May 28.

It was my wish, my hope, my n.o.blest ambition, my dear Emily, to see you in a situation worthy of you; my sanguine temper flattered me with the idea of seeing this wish accomplished in Canada, though fortune denied it me in England.

The letter which I inclose has put an end to those fond delusive hopes: I must return immediately to England; did not my own heart dictate this step, I know too well the goodness of yours, to expect the continuance of your esteem, were I capable of purchasing happiness, even the happiness of calling you mine, at the expence of my mother's life, or even of her quiet.

I must now submit to see my Emily in an humbler situation; to see her want those pleasures, those advantages, those honors, which fortune gives, and which she has so n.o.bly sacrificed to true delicacy of mind, and, if I do not flatter myself, to her generous and disinterested affection for me.

Be a.s.sured, my dearest angel, the inconveniencies attendant on a narrow fortune, the only one I have to offer, shall be softened by all which the most lively esteem, the most perfect friends.h.i.+p, the tenderest love, can inspire; by that attention, that unwearied solicitude to please, of which the heart alone knows the value.

Fortune has no power over minds like ours; we possess a treasure to which all she has to give is nothing, the dear exquisite delight of loving, and of being beloved.

Awake to all the finer feelings of tender esteem and elegant desire, we have every real good in each other.

I shall hurry down, the moment I have settled my affairs here; and hope soon to have the transport of presenting the most charming of friends, of mistresses, allow me to add, of wives, to a mother whom I love and revere beyond words, and to whom she will soon be dearer than myself.

My going to England will detain me at Montreal a few days longer than I intended; a delay I can very ill support.

Adieu! my Emily! no language can express my tenderness or my impatience.

Your faithful Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 149.

To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.

Montreal, May 28.

I cannot enough, my dear Temple, thank you for your last, though it destroys my air-built scheme of happiness.

Could I have supposed my mother would thus severely have felt my absence, I had never left England; to make her easier, was my only motive for that step.