Wedneſday Morning.
I only ſend this as an avant-coureur, without jack-boots, to tell you, that I am again on the wing, and hope to be with you a few hours after you receive it. I ſhall find you well, and compoſed, I am ſure; or, more properly ſpeaking, cheerful.—What is the reaſon that my ſpirits are not as manageable as yours? Yet, now I think of it, I will not allow that your temper is even, though I have promiſed myſelf, in order to obtain my own forgiveneſs, that I will not ruffle it for a long, long time—I am afraid to ſay never.
Farewell for a moment!—Do not forget that I am driving towards you in perſon! My mind, unfettered, has flown to you long ſince, or rather has never left you.
I am well, and have no apprehenſion that I ſhall find the journey too fatiguing, when I follow the lead of my heart.—With my face turned to H— my ſpirits will not ſink—and my mind has always hitherto enabled my body to do whatever I wiſhed.
Yours affectionately
* * * *
LETTER XVIII
H—, Thurſday Morning, March 12.