LETTER XI
Monday Night.
I have juſt received your kind and rational letter, and would fain hide my face, glowing with ſhame for my folly.—I would hide it in your boſom, if you would again open it to me, and neſtle cloſely till you bade my fluttering heart be ſtill, by ſaying that you forgave me. With eyes overflowing with tears, and in the humbleſt attitude, I intreat you.—Do not turn from me, for indeed I love you fondly, and have been very wretched, ſince the night I was ſo cruelly hurt by thinking that you had no confidence in me——
It is time for me to grow more reaſonable, a few more of theſe caprices of ſenſibility would deſtroy me. I have, in fact, been very much indiſpoſed for a few days paſt, and the notion that I was tormenting, or perhaps killing, a poor little animal, about whom I am grown anxious and tender, now I feel it alive, made me worſe. My bowels have been dreadfully diſordered, and every thing I ate or drank diſagreed with my ſtomach; ſtill I feel intimations of its exiſtence, though they have been fainter.
Do you think that the creature goes regularly to ſleep? I am ready to aſk as many queſtions as Voltaire's Man of Forty Crowns. Ah! do not continue to be angry with me! You perceive that I am already ſmiling through my tears—You have lightened my heart, and my frozen ſpirits are melting into playfulneſs.
Write the moment you receive this. I ſhall count the minutes. But drop not an angry word—I cannot now bear it. Yet, if you think I deſerve a ſcolding (it does not admit of a queſtion, I grant), wait till you come back—and then, if you are angry one day, I ſhall be ſure of ſeeing you the next.
——— did not write to you, I ſuppoſe, becauſe he talked of going to H——. Hearing that I was ill, he called very kindly on me, not dreaming that it was ſome words that he incautiouſly let fall, which rendered me ſo.
God bleſs you, my love; do not ſhut your heart againſt a return of tenderneſs; and, as I now in fancy cling to you, be more than ever my ſupport.—Feel but as affectionate when you read this letter, as I did writing it, and you will make happy, your