I am told that she is still single. Her sober lover never returned. Had
he loved as I did, and do, he could not have been so precipitate. But
these stoic souls are good for nothing, that I know of, but,
"Fixed, like a plant, to one peculiar spot,
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot."
I want to see Eliza, and I must see her; yet I dread an interview. I
shall frankly confess my motives for marrying, and the reasons of my
conduct before I went away. I shall own that my circumstances would not
allow me to possess her, and yet that I could not resign her to another.
When I make up the matter with her, I shall solicit her friendship for
my wife. By this means I may enjoy her society, at least, which will
alleviate the confinement of a married state. To my spouse I must be as
civil as possible. I really wish she had less merit, that I might have a
plausible excuse for neglecting her.
To-morrow I shall go to Mrs. Wharton's. I am very much taken up with
complimental visits at present. What deference is always paid to
equipage! They may talk of their virtue, their learning, and what not;
but, without either of them, I shall bear off the palm of respect from
those who have them, unadorned with gold and its shining appendages.
Every thing hereabouts recalls Eliza to my mind. I impatiently
anticipate the hour which will convey me to her presence.
PETER SANFORD.
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