LETTER XVII.
To Henry Colden.
Tuesday Morning.
(Enclosed letter.)
You went away this morning before I was
awake, I think you might have staid to
breakfast, yet on second thoughts, your early
departure was best. Perhaps, it was so.
You have made me very thoughtful, to day.
What passed last night has left my mind at no
liberty to read and to scribble as I used to do.
How your omens made me shudder!
I want to see you. Can't you come again
this evening? but no, you must not. I must
not be an encroacher. I must judge of others,
and of their claims upon your company,
by myself and my own claims. Yet I should
be glad to see that creature who would dare to
enter into competition with me.
But I may as well hold my peace. My rights
will not be admitted by others. Indeed no soul
but yourself can know them in all their extent,
and, what is all I care for, you are far from being
strictly just to me.
Don't be angry, Hall. Skip the last couple
of sentences, or think of them as not mine. I
disown them, to-morrow, at six, the fire shall
be stirred, the candles lighted, and the sofa placed
in order due. I shall be at home to nobody;
mind that.
“I am loath to mention one thing, however,
“but I must. Though nothing be due to the absent
“man, somewhat is due to myself. I have been ex
“cessively uneasy the whole day. I am terrified at
“certain consequences. What may not happen if,
“No; the last night's scene must not be repeated;
“atl east, for a month to come. The sweet obliv
“ion of the future and past lasted only for the
“night. Now I have liesure to look forward, and
“am resolved (dont laugh at my resolves; I am
“quite in earnest.—) to keep thee at a distance
“for at least a fortnight to come. It shall be a
“whole month, if thou dost not submit with a
“good grace.”
