Half his fortune was all I ever hoped for, or even would have chose to accept: the rest I determined to give up to the man whom I refused to marry.
I gave my hand to Rivers, and was happy; yet the idea of my father’s return, and the consciousness of having disobeyed him, cast sometimes a damp on my felicity, and threw a gloom over my soul, which all my endeavors could scarce hide from Rivers, though his delicacy prevented his asking the cause.
I now know, what was then a secret to me, that my father had offered his daughter to Rivers, with a fortune which could, however, have been no temptation to a mind like his, had he not been attached to me: he declined the offer, and, lest I should hear of it, and, from a romantic disinterestedness, want him to accept it, pressed our marriage with more importunity than ever; yet had the generosity to conceal this sacrifice from me, and to wish it should be concealed for ever.
These sentiments, so noble, so peculiar to my Rivers, prevented an explanation, and hid from us, for some time, the circumstances which now make our happiness so perfect.
How infinitely worthy is Rivers of all my tenderness!
My father has sent to speak with me in his apartment: I should have told you, I this morning went to Bellfield, and brought from thence my mother’s picture, which I have just sent him.
Adieu! Your faithful
Emily Rivers.
LETTER CCXXIII.227.
To Mrs. Rivers, Bellfield, Rutland.
London, Sunday.