The History of Emily Montague Part 52

I have already projected a million of improvements; have taught new streams to flow, planted ideal groves, and walked, fancy-led, in shades of my own raising.

The situation of the house is enchanting; and with all my pa.s.sion for the savage luxuriance of America, I begin to find my taste return for the more mild and regular charms of my native country.

We have no Chaudieres, no Montmorencis, none of those magnificent scenes on which the Canadians have a right to pride themselves; but we excel them in the lovely, the smiling; in enameled meadows, in waving corn-fields, in gardens the boast of Europe; in every elegant art which adorns and softens human life; in all the riches and beauty which cultivation can give.

I begin to think I may be blest in the possession of my Emily, without betraying her into a state of want; we may, I begin to flatter myself, live with decency, in retirement; and, in my opinion, there are a thousand charms in retirement with those we love.

Upon the whole, I believe we shall be able to live, taking the word _live_ in the sense of lovers, not of the _beau monde_, who will never allow a little country squire of four hundred pounds a year to _live_.

Time may do more for us; at least, I am of an age and temper to encourage hope.

All here are perfectly yours.

Adieu! my dear friend, Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 170.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Silleri, Aug. 6.

The leave of absence for my father and Fitzgerald being come some weeks sooner than we expected, we propose leaving Canada in five or six days.

I am delighted with the idea of revisiting dear England, and seeing friends whom I so tenderly love: yet I feel a regret, which I had no idea I should have felt, at leaving the scenes of a thousand past pleasures; the murmuring rivulets to which Emily and I have sat listening, the sweet woods where I have walked with my little circle of friends: I have even a strong attachment to the scenes themselves, which are infinitely lovely, and speak the inimitable hand of nature which formed them: I want to transport this fairy ground to England.

I sigh when I pa.s.s any particularly charming spot; I feel a tenderness beyond what inanimate objects seem to merit.

I must pay one more visit to the naiads of Montmorenci.

Eleven at night.

I am just come from the general's a.s.sembly; where, I should have told you, I was this day fortnight announced _Madame Fitzgerald_, to the great mortification of two or three cats, who had very sagaciously determined, that Fitzgerald had too much understanding ever to think of such a flirting, coquetish creature as a wife.

I was grave at the a.s.sembly to-night, in spite of all the pains I took to be otherwise: I was hurt at the idea it would probably be _the last_ at which I should be; I felt a kind of concern at parting, not only with the few I loved, but with those who had till to-night been indifferent to me.

There is something affecting in the idea of _the last time_ of seeing even those persons or places, for which we have no particular affection.

I go to-morrow to take leave of the nuns, at the Ursuline convent; I suppose I shall carry this melancholy idea with me there, and be hurt at seeing them too _for the last time_.

I pay visits every day amongst the peasants, who are very fond of me. I talk to them of their farms, give money to their children, and teach their wives to be good huswives: I am the idol of the country people five miles round, who declare me the most amiable, most generous woman in the world, and think it a thousand pities I should be d.a.m.ned.

Adieu! say every thing for me to my sweet friends, if arrived.

7th, Eleven o'clock.

I have this moment a large packet of letters for Emily from Mrs.

Melmoth, which I intend to take the care of myself, as I hope to be in England almost as soon as this.

Good morrow!

Yours ever, &c.

A. Fitzgerald.

Three o'clock.

I am just come from visiting the nuns; they expressed great concern at my leaving Canada, and promised me their prayers on my voyage; for which proof of affection, though a good protestant, I thanked them very sincerely.

I wished exceedingly to have brought some of them away with me; my nun, as they call the amiable girl I saw take the veil, paid me the flattering tribute of a tear at parting; her fine eyes had a concern in them, which affected me extremely.

I was not less pleased with the affection the late superior, my good old countrywoman, expressed for me, and her regret at seeing me _for the last time_.

Surely there is no pleasure on earth equal to that of being beloved!

I did not think I had been such a favorite in Canada: it is almost a pity to leave it; perhaps n.o.body may love me in England.

Yes, I believe Fitzgerald will; and I have a pretty party enough of friends in your family.

Adieu! I shall write a line the day we embark, by another s.h.i.+p, which may possibly arrive before us.

LETTER 171.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Silleri, Aug. 11.

We embark to-morrow, and hope to see you in less than a month, if this fine wind continues.

I am just come from Montmorenci, where I have been paying my devotions to the tutelary deities of the place _for the last time_.

I had only Fitzgerald with me; we visited every grotto on the lovely banks, where we dined; kissed every flower, raised a votive altar on the little island, poured a libation of wine to the river G.o.ddess; and, in short, did every thing which it became good heathens to do.

We stayed till day-light began to decline, which, with the idea of _the last time_, threw round us a certain melancholy solemnity; a solemnity which

"Deepen'd the murmur of the falling floods, And breath'd a browner horror on the woods."

I have twenty things to do, and but a moment to do them in. Adieu!

I am called down; it is to Madame Des Roches: she is very obliging to come thus far to see me.

12th.

We go on board at one; Madame Des Roches goes down with us as far as her estate, where her boat is to fetch her on sh.o.r.e. She has made me a present of a pair of extreme pretty bracelets; has sent your brother an elegant sword-knot, and Emily a very beautiful cross of diamonds.

I don't believe she would be sorry if we were to run away with her to England: I protest I am half inclined; it is pity such a woman should be hid all her life in the woods of Canada: besides, one might convert her you know; and, on a religious principle, a little deviation from rules is allowable.