Adieu!  Your affectionate
          Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 150.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Silleri, June 1.

I can write, I can talk, of nothing but Emily; I never knew how much I loved her till she was gone:  I run eagerly to every place where we have been together; every spot reminds me of her; I remember a thousand conversations, endeared by confidence and affection:  a tender tear starts in spite of me:  our walks, our airings, our pleasing little parties, all rush at once on my memory:  I see the same lovely scenes around me, but they have lost half their power of pleasing.

I visit every grove, every thicket, that she loved; I have a redoubled fondness for every object in which she took pleasure.

Fitzgerald indulges me in this enthusiasm of friendship; he leads me to every place which can recall my Emily’s idea; he speaks of her with a warmth which shews the sensibility and goodness of his own heart; he endeavors to soothe me by the most endearing attention.

What infinite pleasure, my dear Lucy, there is in being truly beloved!  Fond as I have ever been of general admiration, that of all mankind is nothing to the least mark of Fitzgerald’s tenderness.

Adieu! it will be some days before I can send this letter.

June 4.

The governor gives a ball in honor of the day; I am dressing to go, but without my sweet companion:  every hour I feel more sensibly her absence.

5th.

We had last night, during the ball, the most dreadful storm I ever heard; it seemed to shake the whole habitable globe.

Heaven preserve my Emily from its fury:  I have a thousand fears on her account.

Twelve o’clock.

Your brother is arrived; he has been here about an hour:  he flew to Silleri, without going at all to Quebec; he enquired for Emily; he would not believe she was gone.

There is no expressing how much he was shocked when convinced she had taken this voyage without him; he would have followed her in an open boat, in hopes of overtaking her at Coudre, if my father had not detained him almost by force, and at last convinced him of the impossibility of overtaking her, as the winds, having been constantly fair, must before this have carried them out of the river.

He has sent his servant to Quebec, with orders to take passage for him in the first ship that sails; his impatience is not to be described.

He came down in the hope of marrying her here, and conducting her himself to England; he forms to himself a thousand dangers to her, which he fondly fancies his presence could have averted:  in short, he has all the unreasonableness of a man in love.

I propose sending this, and a large packet more, by your brother, unless some unexpected opportunity offers before.

    Adieu! my dear! 
      Yours,
          A. Fermor.