prospect; and I check myself when I grieve for your absence, by
remembering how much reason I have to rejoice in the hope of passing my
whole life with you. A good fortune not to be valued!--I am afraid of
telling you that I return thanks for it to Heaven, because you will
charge me with hypocrisy; but you are mistaken: I assist every day at
public prayers in this family, and never forget in my private
ejaculation how much I owe to Heaven for making me yours. 'Tis
candle-light, or I should not conclude so soon.

"Pray, my dear, begin at the top, and read till you come to the bottom."


Montagu, for his part, was somewhat careless as regards correspondence--for
which offence she rebuked him more than once, but in the most flattering
manner.


"I am at present in so much uneasiness, my letter is not likely to be
intelligible, if it all resembles the confusion of my head. I sometimes
imagine you not well, and sometimes that you think of it small
importance to write, or that greater matters have taken up your
thoughts. This last imagination is too cruel for me. I will rather fancy
your letter has miscarried, though I find little probability to think
so. I know not what to think, and am very near being distracted, amongst
my variety of dismal apprehensions. I am very ill company to the good
people of the house, who all bid me make you their compliments. Mr.
White begins your health twice every day. You don't deserve all this if
you can be so entirely forgetful of all this part of the world. I am
peevish with you by fits, and divide my time between anger and sorrow,
which are equaly troublesome to me. 'Tis the most cruel thing in the