ertainly right to be long
enough acquainted to know something of each other's temper; but 'tis
bad to let the first fire burn out before we come together; and when
we have once resolved, I have no notion of delaying a moment.

If I should ever consent to marry Fitzgerald, and he should not fly
for a licence before I had finished the sentence, I would dismiss him
if there was not another lover to be had in Canada.

Adieu!
Your faithful
A. Fermor.

My Emily is now free as air; a sweet little bird escaped from the
gilded cage. Are you not glad of it, Lucy? I am amazingly.

LETTER 66.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Quebec, Feb. 11.

Would one think it possible, Lucy, that Sir George should console
himself for the loss of all that is lovely in woman, by the sordid
prospect of acquiring, by an interested marriage, a little more of that
wealth of which he has already much more than he can either enjoy or
become? By what wretched motives are half mankind influenced in the
most important action of their lives!

The vulgar of every rank expect happiness where it is not to be
found, in the ideal advantages of splendor and dissipation; those who
dare to think, those minds who partake of the celestial fire, seek it
in the real solid pleasures of nature and soft affection.

I have seen my lovely Emily since I wrote to you; I shall not see
her again of some days; I do not intend at present to make my visits to
Silleri so frequent as I have done lately, lest the world, ever
studious to blame, should misconstrue her conduct on this very delicate
occasion. I am even afraid to shew my usual attention to her when
present, lest she herself should think I presume on the politeness she
has ever shewn me, and see her breaking with Sir George in a false
light: the greater I think her obliging partiality to me, the more
guarded I ought to be in my behaviour to her; her situation has some
resemblance to widowhood, and she has equal decorums to observe.

I cannot however help encouraging a pleasing hope that I am not
absolutely indifferent to her: her lovely eyes have a softness when
they meet mine, to which words cannot do justice: she talks less to me
than to others, but it is in a tone of voice which penetrates my soul;
and when I speak, her attention is most flattering, though of a nature
not to be seen by common observers; without seeming to distinguish me
from the crowd who strive to engage her