inion, done the wisest thing in the world;
that is, she has pleased herself.

As to her inclination for your brother, I am of their opinion, that
she loves him without being quite clear in the point herself: she has
not yet confessed the fact even to me; but she has speaking eyes, Lucy,
and I think I can interpret their language.

Whether he sees it or not I cannot tell; I rather think he does,
because he has been less here, and more guarded in his manner when
here, than before this matrimonial affair was put an end to; which is
natural enough on that supposition, because he knows the impertinence
of Quebec, and is both prudent and delicate to a great degree.

He comes, however, and we are pretty good company, only a little
more reserved on both sides; which is, in my opinion, a little
symptomatic.

La! here's papa come up to write at my bureau; I dare say, it's only
to pry into what I am about; but excuse me, my dear Sir, for that.
Adieu! _jusqu'au demain, ma tres chere_.

Yours,
A. Fermor.

LETTER 71.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Quebec, Feb. 20.

Every hour, my Lucy, convinces me more clearly there is no happiness
for me without this lovely woman; her turn of mind is so correspondent
to my own, that we seem to have but one soul: the first moment I saw
her the idea struck me that we had been friends in some pre-existent
state, and were only renewing our acquaintance here; when she speaks,
my heart vibrates to the sound, and owns every thought she expresses a
native there.

The same dear affections, the same tender sensibility, the most
precious gift of Heaven, inform our minds, and make us peculiarly
capable of exquisite happiness or misery.

The passions, my Lucy, are common to all; but the affections, the
lively sweet affections, the only sources of true pleasure, are the
portion only of a chosen few.

Uncertain at present of the nature of her sentiments, I am
determined to develop them clearly before I discover mine: if she loves
as I do, even a perpetual exile here will be pleasing. The remotest
wood in Canada with her would be no longer a desert wild; it would be
the habitation of the Graces.

But I forget your letter, my dear girl; I am hurt beyond words at
what you tell me of my mother; and would instantly return to England,
did not my fondness for this charming woman detain me here: you are
both too good in wishing to retire with me to the country; will your
tende