My Lucy, I am not happy; my mind is in a state not to be described; I am weak enough to encourage a hope for which there is not the least foundation; I misconstrue her friendship for me every moment; and that attention which is meerly gratitude for my apparent anxiety to oblige. I even fancy her eyes understand mine, which I am afraid speak too plainly the sentiments of my heart.
I love her, my dear girl, to madness; these three days—
I am interrupted. Adieu!
Yours,
Ed. Rivers.
’Tis Capt. Fermor, who insists on my dining at Silleri. They will eternally throw me in the way of this lovely woman: of what materials do they suppose me formed?
LETTER XXV.25.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Silleri, Oct. 3, Twelve o’clock.
An enchanting ball, my dear; your little friend’s head is turned. I was more admired than Emily, which to be sure did not flatter my vanity at all: I see she must content herself with being beloved, for without coquetry ’tis in vain to expect admiration.
We had more than three hundred persons at the ball; above three fourths men; all gay and well dressed, an elegant supper; in short, it was charming.