Part 3 (1/2)

_Monday Night [Paris, Dec. 30, 1793]._

My best love, your letter to-night was particularly grateful to my heart, depressed by the letters I received by ----, for he brought me several, and the parcel of books directed to Mr. ---- was for me. Mr. ----'s letter was long and very affectionate; but the account he gives me of his own affairs, though he obviously makes the best of them, has vexed me.

A melancholy letter from my sister ---- has also harra.s.sed my mind--that from my brother would have given me sincere pleasure; but for

There is a spirit of independence in his letter, that will please you; and you shall see it, when we are once more over the fire together.--I think that you would hail him as a brother, with one of your tender looks, when your heart not only gives a l.u.s.tre to your eye, but a dance of playfulness, that he would meet with a glow half made up of bashfulness, and a desire to please the----where shall I find a word to express the relations.h.i.+p which subsists between us?--Shall I ask the little twitcher?--But I have dropt half the sentence that was to tell you how much he would be inclined to love the man loved by his sister. I have been fancying myself sitting between you, ever since I began to write, and my heart has leaped at the thought! You see how I chat to you.

I did not receive your letter till I came home; and I did not expect it, for the post came in much later than usual. It was a cordial to me--and I wanted one.

Mr. ---- tells me that he has written again and again.--Love him a little!--It would be a kind of separation, if you did not love those I love.

There was so much considerate tenderness in your epistle to-night, that, if it has not made you dearer to me, it has made me forcibly feel how very dear you are to me, by charming away half my cares.

Yours affectionately.

MARY.

LETTER IX

_Tuesday Morning [Paris, Dec. 31, 1793]._

Though I have just sent a letter off, yet, as captain ---- offers to take one, I am not willing to let him go without a kind greeting, because trifles of this sort, without having any effect on my mind, damp my spirits:--and you, with all your struggles to be manly, have some of his same sensibility.--Do not bid it begone, for I love to see it striving to master your features; besides, these kind of sympathies are the life of affection: and why, in cultivating our understandings, should we try to dry up these springs of pleasure, which gush out to give a freshness to days browned by care!

The books sent to me are such as we may read together; so I shall not look into them till you return; when you shall read, whilst I mend my stockings.

Yours truly, MARY.

LETTER X

_Wednesday Night [Paris, Jan. 1, 1794]._

As I have been, you tell me, three days without writing, I ought not to complain of two: yet, as I expected to receive a letter this afternoon, I am hurt; and why should I, by concealing it, affect the heroism I do not feel?

I hate commerce. How differently must ----'s head and heart be organized from mine! You will tell me, that exertions are necessary: I am weary of them! The face of things, public and private, vexes me. The ”peace” and clemency which seemed to be dawning a few days ago, disappear again. ”I am fallen,” as Milton said, ”on evil days;” for I really believe that Europe will be in a state of convulsion, during half a century at least. Life is but a labour of patience: it is always rolling a great stone up a hill; for, before a person can find a resting-place, imagining it is lodged, down it comes again, and all the work is to be done over anew!

Should I attempt to write any more, I could not change the strain. My head aches, and my heart is heavy. The world appears an ”unweeded garden,”

where ”things rank and vile” flourish best.

If you do not return soon--or, which is no such mighty matter, talk of it--I will throw your slippers out at window, and be off--n.o.body knows where.

MARY.