There is no describing what then passed in my soul: with what difficulty did I restrain my transports! never before did I really know love: what I had hitherto felt even for her, was cold to that enchanting, that impassioned moment.
She is a thousand times dearer to me than life: my Lucy, I cannot live without her.
I contrived, before I left Silleri, to speak to Bell Fermor on the subject of Emily’s reception of me; she did not fully explain herself, but she convinced me hatred had no part in her resentment.
I am going again this afternoon: every hour not passed with her is lost.
I will seek a favorable occasion of telling her the whole happiness of my life depends on her tenderness.
Before I write again, my fate will possibly be determined: with every reason to hope, the timidity inseparable from love makes me dread a full explanation of my sentiments: if her native softness should have deceived me—but I will not study to be unhappy.
Adieu!
Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.
LETTER XCV.95.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Silleri, March 20.