friendship alone: yet I am not happy.
It is that we lose the present happiness in the pursuit of greater:
I look forward with impatience to that moment which will make Emily
mine; and the difficulties, which I see on every side arising, embitter
hours which would otherwise be exquisitely happy.
The narrowness of my fortune, which I see in a much stronger light
in this land of luxury, and the apparent impossibility of placing the
most charming of women in the station my heart wishes, give me
anxieties which my reason cannot conquer.
I cannot live without her, I flatter myself our union is in some
degree necessary to her happiness; yet I dread bringing her into
distresses, which I am doubly obliged to protect her from, because she
would with transport meet them all, from tenderness to me.
I have nothing which I can call my own, but my half-pay, and four
thousand pounds: I have lived amongst the first company in England; all
my connexions have been rather suited to my birth than fortune. My
mother presses me to resume my estate, and let her live with us
alternately; but against this I am firmly determined; she shall have
her own house, and never change her manner of living.
Temple would share his estate with me, if I would allow him; but I
am too fond of independence to accept favors of this kind even from
him.
I have formed a thousand schemes, and as often found them abortive;
I go to-morrow to see our little estate, with my mother; it is a
private party of our own, and nobody is in the secret; I will there
talk over every thing with her.
My mind is at present in a state of confusion not to be expressed; I
must determine on something; it is improper Emily should continue long
with my sister in her present situation; yet I cannot live without
seeing her.
I have never asked about Emily's fortune; but I know it is a small
one; perhaps two thousand pounds; I am pretty certain, not more.
We can live on little, but we must live in some degree on a genteel
footing: I cannot let Emily, who refused a coach and six for me, pay
visits on foot; I will be content with a post-chaise, but cannot with
less; I have a little, a very little pride, for my Emily.
I wish it were possible to prevail on my mother to return with us to
Canada: I could then reconcile my duty and happiness, which at present
seem almost incompatible.
Emily appears perfectly happy, and to look no further than to the
situation in which we now a
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