LETTER CXCI.195.
To Captain Fitzgerald.
Bellfield, Oct. 3.
What delight is there in obliging those we love!
My heart dilated with joy at seeing Emily pleased with the little embellishments of her apartment, which I had made as gay and smiling as the morn; it looked, indeed, as if the hand of love had adorned it: she has a dressing room and closet of books, into which I shall never intrude: there is a pleasure in having some place which we can say is peculiarly our own, some sanctum sanctorum, whither we can retire even from those most dear to us.
This is a pleasure in which I have been indulged almost from infancy, and therefore one of the first I thought of procuring for my sweet Emily.
I told her I should, however, sometimes expect to be amongst her guests in this little retirement.
Her look, her tender smile, the speaking glance of grateful love, gave me a transport, which only minds turned to affection can conceive. I never, my dear Fitzgerald, was happy before: the attachment I once mentioned was pleasing; but I felt a regret, at knowing the object of my tenderness had forfeited the good opinion of the world, which embittered all my happiness.
She possessed my esteem, because I knew her heart; but I wanted to see her esteemed by others.
With Emily I enjoy this pleasure in its utmost extent: she is the adoration of all who see her; she is equally admired, esteemed, respected.