know not what to write, nor what I would write. When the company that
used to delight me is as uneasy to me as my reflections are painful, and
I can neither help nor divert myself, must not every servant about me
partake in a perturbation so sincere!
Shall I give thee a faint picture of the horrible uneasiness with which
my mind struggles? And faint indeed it must be; for nothing but
outrageous madness can exceed it; and that only in the apprehension of
others; since, as to the sufferer, it is certain, that actual distraction
(take it out of its lucid intervals) must be an infinitely more happy
state than the state of suspense and anxiety, which often brings it on.
Forbidden to attend the dear creature, yet longing to see her, I would
give the world to be admitted once more to her beloved presence. I ride
towards London three or four times a day, resolving pro and con, twenty
times in two or three miles; and at last ride back; and, in view of
Uxbridge, loathing even the kind friend, and hospitable house, turn my
horse's head again towards the town, and resolve to gratify my humour,
let her take it as she will; but, at the very entrance of it, after
infinite canvassings, once more alter my mind, dreading to offend and
shock her, lest, by that means, I should curtail a life so precious.
Yesterday, in particular, to give you an idea of the strength of that
impatience, which I cannot avoid suffering to break out upon my servants,
I had no sooner dispatched Will., than I took horse to meet him on his
return.
In order to give him time, I loitered about on the road, riding up this
lane to the one highway, down that to the other, just as my horse
pointed; all the way cursing my very being; and though so lately looking
down upon all the world, wishing to change conditions with the poorest
beggar that cried to me for charity as I rode by him--and throwing him
money, in hopes to obtain by his prayers the blessing my heart pants
after.
After I had sauntered about an hour or two, (which seemed three or four
tedious ones,) fearing I had slipt the fellow, I inquired at every
turnpike, whether a servant in such a livery had not passed through in
his return from London, on a full gallop; for woe had been to the dog,
had I met him on a sluggish trot! And lest I should miss him at one end
of Kensingtohn, as he might take either the Acton or Hammersmith road; or
at the other, as he might come through the Park, or not; how many
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