h your brother! do you know he and Emily had the
good-nature to refuse to dance, that my sitting still might be the less
taken notice of? We all played at cards, and Rivers contrived to be of
my party, by which he would have won Emily's heart if he had not had it
before.

Good night.

LETTER 102.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Quebec, March 27.

I have been twice at Silleri with the intention of declaring my
passion, and explaining my situation, to Emily; but have been prevented
by company, which made it impossible for me to find the opportunity I
wished.

Had I found that opportunity, I am not sure I should have made use
of it; a degree of timidity is inseparable from true tenderness; and I
am afraid of declaring myself a lover, lest, if not beloved, I should
lose the happiness I at present possess in visiting her as her friend:
I cannot give up the dear delight I find in seeing her, in hearing her
voice, in tracing and admiring every sentiment of that lovely
unaffected generous mind as it rises.

In short, my Lucy, I cannot live without her esteem and friendship;
and though her eyes, her attention to me, her whole manner, encourage
me in the hope of being beloved, yet the possibility of my being
mistaken makes me dread an explanation by which I hazard losing the
lively pleasure I find in her friendship.

This timidity however must be conquered; 'tis pardonable to feel
it, but not to give way to it. I have ordered my carriole, and am
determined to make my attack this very morning like a man of courage
and a soldier.

Adieu!
Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.

A letter from Bell Fermor, to whom I wrote this morning on the
subject:

"To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.

Silleri, Friday morning.

"You are a foolish creature, and know nothing of women. Dine at
Silleri, and we will air after dinner; 'tis a glorious day, and if you
are timid in a covered carriole, I give you up.

"Adieu!
Yours,
A. Fermor."

LETTER 103.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Quebec, March 27, 11 at night.

She is an angel, my dear Lucy, and no words can do her justice: I am
the happiest of mankind; I painted my passion with all the moving
eloquence of undissembled love; she heard me with the most flattering
attention; she said little, but her looks, her air, her tone of voice,
her blushes, her very silence--how could I ever doubt her tenderness?
have not those lovely eyes