To George Mordaunt, Esq;
THEY are come; the impatient
villagers crowd the hall, eager to
behold them, transport in every eye, whilst
the noble pair scarce retain the tender tear
of glowing benevolence. How lovely a
picture was the audience they come from
giving! how sweet the intercourse of warm
beneficence and ardent gratitude! my
heart melted at the sight. This evening
is devoted to joy–I alone–O Mordaunt!
have I known this paradise only to be driven
for ever from it?
I cannot to-night mention leaving Belmont;
to-morrow I will propose it; I am
in doubt where to go; my father is absent
from camp on a visit of a fortnight to the
Duke of ––, his colonel. I have some
thoughts of going to Lord T––'s, till his
return: perhaps I may come to town; all
places but this are equal to me yet: I must
leave it; I am every moment more sensible
of my danger: yes, Mordaunt, I love her,
I can no longer deceive myself; I love her
with the fondest passion; friendship is too
cold a name for what I feel, too cold for
charms like hers to inspire: yet, Heaven is
my witness, I am incapable of a wish to her
disadvantage; her happiness is my first, my
only object–I know not what I would say
–why does fortune for ever oppose the
tender union of hearts? Farewell!
H. Mandeville.
