June 10th.
You are stretching over now in the Trade Winds from the Cape to Madrass—(I hope)—but I know it not, some friendly Ship you possibly have met wth., & I never read an Acct. of an India Man arrived—but I expect that it is the Messenger of the news my heart is upon the rack for.—I calculate, That you will arrive at Bombay by the beginning of October—by February, I shall surely hear from you thence—but from Madrass sooner.—I expect you Eliza in person, by September—& shall scarse go to London till March—for what have I to do there, when (except printing my Books) I have no Interest or Passion to gratify—I shall return in June to Coxwould—& there wait for the glad Tidings of yr. arrival in the Downs—won’t You write to me Eliza? by the first Boat? would not you wish to be greeted by yr. Yorick upon the Beech?—or be met by him to hand you out of yr. postchaise, to pay him for the Anguish he underwent, in handing you into it?—I know your answers—my Spirit is with You. farewel dear friend—
June 11.
I am every day negociating to sell my little Estate besides me—to send the money into France to purchace peace to myself—& a certainty of never having it interrupted by Mrs. Sterne—who when She is sensible I have given her all I can part with—will be at rest herself—Indeed her plan to purchace annuities in france—is a pledge of Security to me—That She will live her days out there—otherwise She could have no end in transporting this two thousand pounds out of England—nor wd. I consent but upon that plan—but I may be at rest!—if my imagination will but let me—Hall says ’tis no matter where she lives; If we are but separate,’tis as good as if the Ocean rolled between us—& so I should argue to another Man—but,’tis an Idea wch. won’t do so well for me—& tho’ nonsensical enough—Yet I shall be most at rest when there is that Bar between Us—was I never so sure, I shd. never be interrupted by her, in England—but I may be at rest I say, on that head—for they have left all their Cloaths & plate and Linen behind them in france—& have joined in the most earnest Entreaty, That they may return & fix in france—to wch. I have give my word & honour—You will be bound with me Eliza! I hope, for performance of my promise—I never yet broke it, in cases where Interest or pleasure could have tempted me,—and shall hardly do it now, when tempted only by misery.—In Truth Eliza! thou art the Object to wch. every act of mine is directed—You interfere in every Project—I rise—I go to sleep with this on my Brain—how will my dear Bramine approve of this?—wch. way will it conduce to make her happy? and how will it be a proof of my affection to her? are all the Enquiries I make—yr. Honour, yr. Conduct, yr. Truth & regard for my esteem—I know will equally direct every Step—& movement of yr. Desires—& with that Assurance, is it, my dear Girl, That I sustain Life.—But when will those Sweet eyes of thine, run over these Declarations?—how—& with whom are they to be entrusted; to be conveyed to You?—unless Mrs. James’s friendship to us, finds some expedient—I must wait—till the first evening I’m with You—when I shall present You wth. them as a better Picture of me, than Cosway could do for You …—have been dismally ill all day—owing to my course of Medicines wch. are too strong & forcing for this gawsy Constitution of mine—I mend with them however—good God! how is it with You?——
June 12. I have return’d from a delicious walk of Romance, my Bramine, which I am to tread a thousand times over with You swinging upon my arm—’tis to my Convent—& I have pluckd up a score [of] Bryars by the roots wch. grew near the edge of the foot way, that they might not scratch or incommode you—had I been sure of yr. taking that walk with me the very next day, I could not have been more serious in my employmt.—dear Enthusiasm?—thou bringst things forward in a moment, wch. Time keeps for Ages back—I have you ten times a day besides me—I talk to you Eliza, for hours together—I take yr. Council—I hear your reasons—I admire you for them!—to this magic of a warm Mind, I owe all that’s worth living for, during this State of our Trial—Every Trinket you gave or exchanged wth. me has its force—yr. Picture is Yrself—all Sentiment, Softness & Truth—It speaks—it listens—’tis concerned—it resignes—Dearest Original! how like unto thee does it seem—& will seem—till thou makest it vanish, by thy presence—I’m but so, so—but advancing in health—to meet you—to nurse you, to nourish you agst. you come—for I fear, You will not arrive, but in a State that calls out to Yorick for support—Thou art Mistress, Eliza, of all the powers he has to sooth & protect thee—for thou art Mistress of his heart; his affections; and his reason—& beyond that, except a paltry purse, he has nothing worth giving thee—.
June 13.