To George Mordaunt, Esq;
Saturday Night.
I AM still here; when shall I have
strength of mind to go? not having
heard from my father in the time I expected,
I was determined to go to Lord T––'s,
whose zeal for my interest, and great knowledge
of mankind, makes him the properest
person I can consult. My chaise was this
morning at the door, when my Lord told
me, Lady Julia intreated my stay a few
days longer: she blushed, and with the
loveliest confusion confirmed my Lord's
assertion: all my resolution vanished in a
moment; there is enchantment in her look,
her voice–enchantment which it is not in
man to resist.
Sunday Morning.
I am every hour more unhappy: Lord
Fondville's proposal gives me infinite uneasiness;
not that I fear such a rival; but it
has raised the idea of other pretensions,
which may be accepted before it is time for
me to avow my designs: I have passed this
night in forming schemes to prevent so fatal
a blow to all my hopes; and am determined
to own my passion to the lovely
object of it, and entreat her, if no other
man is so happy as to possess her heart, to
wait one year the result of those views
which that love which has inspired may
perhaps prosper.
Not certain I shall have courage to own
my tenderness in her presence, I will write,
and seize some favourable opportunity to
give her the letter on which all my happiness
depends: I will ask no answer but
from her eyes. How shall I meet them after
so daring an attempt?
We are going to the parish church; the
coach is at the door: Adieu! she comes!
What graces play around that form! What
divinity in those eyes! Oh! Mordaunt, what
task will be difficult to him who has such a
reward in view!
