Ap: 28. I was not deceived Eliza! by my presentiment that I should find thee out in my dreams; for I have been with thee almost the whole night, alternately soothing Thee, or telling thee my sorrows—I have rose up comforted & strengthened—& found myself so much better, that I orderd my Carriage, to carry me to our mutual friend—Tears ran down her cheeks when she saw how pale & wan I was—never gentle creature sympathized more tenderly—I beseech you, cried the good Soul, not to regard either difficulties or expences, but fly to Eliza directly—I see you will dye without her—save yrself for her—how shall I look her in the face? What can I say to her, when on her return I have to tell her, That her Yorick is no more!—Tell her my dear friend, said I, That I will meet her in a better world—& that I have left this, because I could not live without her; tell Eliza, my dear friend, added I—That I died broken hearted—and that you were a Witness to it—as I said this, She burst into the most pathetic flood of Tears—that ever kindly Nature shed. You never beheld so affecting a Scene—’twas too much for Nature! oh! she is good—I love her as my Sister!—& could Eliza have been a witness, hers would have melted down to Death & scarse have been brought back, an Extacy so celestial & savouring of another world.—I had like to have fainted, & to that Degree was my heart & soul affected, it was wth. difficulty I could reach the street door; I have got home, & shall lay all day upon my Sopha—& to morrow morning my dear Girl write again to thee; for I have not strength to drag my pen—
Ap: 29.
I am so ill to day, my dear, I can only tell you so—I wish I was put into a Ship for Bombay—I wish I may otherwise hold out till the hour We might otherwise have met—I have too many evils upon me at once—& yet I will not faint under them—Come!—Come to me soon my Eliza & save me!
Ap: 30. Better to day—but am too much visited & find my strength wasted by the attention I must give to all concern’d for me—I will go Eliza, be it but by ten mile Journeys, home to my thatched Cottage—& there I shall have no respit—for I shall do nothing but think of thee—and burn out this weak Taper of Life by the flame thou hast superadded to it—fare well my dear * * * * —to morrow begins a new month—& I hope to give thee in it, a more sunshiny side of myself—Heaven! how is it with my Eliza—
May 1.
got out into the park to day—Sheba there on Horseback; pass’d twice by her without knowing her—she stop’d the 3d. time—to ask me how I did—I wd. not have askd you, Solomon! said She, but yr. Looks affected me—for you’re half dead I fear—I thank’d Sheba very kindly, but wthout any emotion but what sprung from gratitude—Love alas! was fled with thee Eliza!—I did not think Sheba could have changed so much in grace & beauty—Thou hadst shrunk poor Sheba away into Nothing, but a good natured girl, without powers or charms—I fear your wife is dead; quoth Sheba—no, you don’t fear it Sheba said I—Upon my word Solomon! I would quarrel with You, was you not so ill—If you knew the cause of my Illness, Sheba, replied I, you wd. quarrel but the more with me—You lie, Solomon! answerd Sheba, for I know the Cause already—& am so little out of Charity with You upon it—That I give you leave to come & drink Tea with me before you leave Town—you’re a good honest Creature Sheba—no! you Rascal, I am not—but I’m in Love, as much as you can be for yr. Life—I’m glad of it Sheba! said I—You Lie, said Sheba, & so canter’d away.—O my Eliza, had I ever truely loved another (wch. I never did) Thou hast long ago, cut the Root of all Affection in me—& planted & waterd & nourish’d it, to bear fruit only for thyself—Continue to give me proofs I have had and shall preserve the same rights over thee my Eliza! and if I ever murmur at the sufferings of Life after that, Let me be numbered with the ungrateful.—I look now forwards with Impatience for the day thou art to get to Madras—& from thence shall I want to hasten thee to Bombay—where heaven will make all things Conspire to lay the Basis of thy health & future happiness—be true my dear girl, to thy self—& the rights of Self preservation which Nature has given thee—persevere—be firm—be pliant—be placid—be courteous—but still be true to thy self—& never give up yr. Life,—or suffer the disquieting altercations, or small outrages you may undergo in this momentous point, to weigh a Scruple in the Ballance—Firmness—& fortitude & perseverance gain almost impossibilities—& Skin for Skin, saith Job, nay all that a Man has, will he give for his Life—oh my Eliza! That I could take the Wings of the Morning, & fly to aid thee in this virtuous Struggle. went to Ranelagh at 8 this night, and sat still till ten—came home ill.