gave a letter.

I cannot help being anxious to hear from you; but I shall not harrass you
with accounts of inquietudes, or of cares that arise from peculiar
circumstances.--I have had so many little plagues here, that I have
almost lamented that I left H----. ----, who is at best a most helpless
creature, is now, on account of her pregnancy, more trouble than use to
me, so that I still continue to be almost a slave to the child.--She
indeed rewards me, for she is a sweet little creature; for, setting aside
a mother's fondness (which, by the bye, is growing on me, her little
intelligent smiles sinking into my heart), she has an astonishing degree
of sensibility and observation. The other day by B----'s child, a fine
one, she looked like a little sprite.--She is all life and motion, and
her eyes are not the eyes of a fool--I will swear.

I slept at St. Germain's, in the very room (if you have not forgot) in
which you pressed me very tenderly to your heart.--I did not forget to
fold my darling to mine, with sensations that are almost too sacred to
be alluded to.

Adieu, my love! Take care of yourself, if you wish to be the protector of
your child, and the comfort of her mother.

I have received, for you, letters from --------. I want to hear how that
affair finishes, though I do not know whether I have most contempt for
his folly or knavery.

Your own

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER XXVI.

October 1.

IT is a heartless task to write letters, without knowing whether they
will ever reach you.--I have given two to ----, who has been a-going,
a-going, every day, for a week past; and three others, which were written
in a low-spirited strain, a little querulous or so, I have not been able
to forward by the opportunities that were mentioned to me. _Tant mieux!_
you will say, and I will not say nay; for I should be sorry that the
contents of a letter, when you are so far away, should damp the pleasure
that the sight of it would afford--judging of your feelings by my own. I
just now stumbled on one of the kind letters, which you wrote during your
last absence. You are then a dear affectionate creature, and I will not
plague you. The letter which you chance to receive, when the absence is
so long, ought to bring only tears of tenderness, without any bitter
alloy, into your eyes.

After your return I hope indeed, that you will not be so immersed in
business, as during the last three or four