he
pleasure it gave me to hear of her being in Canada; I am impatient to
see her, but as Mrs. Melmoth comes in a fortnight to Quebec, I know she
will excuse my waiting to come with her. My visit however is to
Silleri; I long to see my dear girl, to tell her a thousand little
trifles interesting only to friendship.

You congratulate me, my dear, on the pleasing prospect I have before
me; on my approaching marriage with a man young, rich, lovely,
enamor'd, and of an amiable character.

Yes, my dear, I am oblig'd to my uncle for his choice; Sir George is
all you have heard; and, without doubt, loves me, as he marries me with
such an inferiority of fortune. I am very happy certainly; how is it
possible I should be otherwise?

I could indeed wish my tenderness for him more lively, but perhaps
my wishes are romantic. I prefer him to all his sex, but wish my
preference was of a less languid nature; there is something in it more
like friendship than love; I see him with pleasure, but I part from him
without regret; yet he deserves my affection, and I can have no
objection to him which is not founded in caprice.

You say true; Colonel Rivers is very amiable; he pass'd six weeks
with us, yet we found his conversation always new; he is the man on
earth of whom one would wish to make a friend; I think I could already
trust him with every sentiment of my soul; I have even more confidence
in him than in Sir George whom I love; his manner is soft, attentive,
insinuating, and particularly adapted to please women. Without
designs, without pretensions; he steals upon you in the character of a
friend, because there is not the least appearance of his ever being a
lover: he seems to take such an interest in your happiness, as gives
him a right to know your every thought. Don't you think, my dear,
these kind of men are dangerous? Take care of yourself, my dear Bell;
as to me, I am secure in my situation.

Sir George is to have the pleasure of delivering this to you, and
comes again in a few days; love him for my sake, though he deserves it
for his own. I assure you, he is extremely worthy.

Adieu! my dear.
Your affectionate
Emily Montague.

LETTER 14.

To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.

Quebec, Sept. 15.

Believe me, Jack, you are wrong; this vagrant taste is unnatural,
and does not lead to happiness; your eager pursuit of pleasure defeats
itself; love gives no true delight but where the heart is attach'd