wish it may last. He is the veriest coquet in nature, for,
after all, I am convinced he loves Emily.

He stayed a very little time, and has not been here this morning; he
may pout if he pleases, but I flatter myself we shall hold out the
longest.

Nine o'clock.

He came to dine; we kept up our state all dinner time; he begged a
moment's conversation, which we refused, but with a timid air that
makes me begin to fear we shall beat a parley: he is this moment gone,
and Emily retired to her apartment on pretence of indisposition: I am
afraid she is a foolish girl.

Half hour after six.

It will not do, Lucy: I found her in tears at the window, following
Rivers's carriole with her eyes: she turned to me with such a look--in
short, my dear,

"The weak, the fond, the fool, the coward woman"

has prevailed over all her resolution: her love is only the more
violent for having been a moment restrained; she is not equal to the
task she has undertaken; her resentment was concealed tenderness, and
has retaken its first form.

I am sorry to find there is not one wise woman in the world but
myself.

Past ten.

I have been with her again: she seemed a little calmer; I commended
her spirit; she disavowed it; was peevish with me, angry with herself;
said she had acted in a manner unworthy her character; accused herself
of caprice, artifice, and cruelty; said she ought to have seen him, if
not alone, yet with me only: that it was natural he should be surprized
at a reception so inconsistent with true friendship, and therefore
that he should wish an explanation; that _her_ Rivers (and why not
Madame Des Roches's Rivers?) was incapable of acting otherwise than as
became the best and most tender of mankind, and that therefore she
ought not to have suffered a whisper injurious to his honor: that I had
meant well, but had, by depriving her of Rivers's friendship, which she
had lost by her haughty behaviour, destroyed all the happiness of her
life.

To be sure, your poor Bell is always to blame: but if ever I
intermeddle between lovers again, Lucy--

I am sure she was ten times more angry with him than I was, but this
it is to be too warm in the interest of our friends.

Adieu! till to-morrow.
Yours,
A. Fermor.

I can only say, that if Fitzgerald had visited a handsome rich
French widow, and staid with her ten days _tete a tete_ in the
country, without my permission--

O Heavens! here is _mon che