She went to the ship with an appearance of calmness that astonished me; but the moment she entered, all her resolution forsook her: she retired with me to her room, where she gave way to all the agony of her soul.
The word was given to sail; I was summoned away; she rose hastily, she pressed me to her bosom, “Tell him, said she, his Emily”—she could say no more.
Never in my life did I feel any sorrow equal to this separation. Love her, my Lucy; you can never have half the tenderness for her she merits.
She stood on the deck till the ship turned Point Levi, her eyes fixed passionately on our boat.
Twelve o’clock.
I have this moment a letter from your brother to Emily, which she directed me to open, and send to her; I inclose it to you, as the safest way of conveyance: there is one in it from Temple to him, on the same subject with yours to me.
Adieu! I will write again when my mind is more composed.
Yours,
A. Fermor.
LETTER CXLVI.148.
To Miss Montague, at Silleri.