|
July-August 1780 from Delia
"Six posts and no news. I try to have courage, but what am I to
think of such cruel forgetfulness? Are you ill, can you have
ceased to love me? God! the thought chills my heart. No! I
cannot think you so barbarous, you cannot desire my death. Alas!
If absence has lost me your heart, it has not had that
effect upon me, for you are a thousand times dearer to me now
than on that dreadful day when you bade me farewell. Your
letters, your assurance of your attachment, the inclination of
my heart, all have served to intensify my affection.
Now perhaps I must renounce forever all those fond hopes that
have made me cherish life; but I may be wrong to despair. I am
too fearful and sensitive; the amiable and tender Jones is as
faithful a lover as he is a valiant warrior and a zealous
patriot. Such rare qualities are united in the object of all my
thoughts and affections. To doubt the constancy would be an
injustice, even a crime. Pardon my fears, dear friend. I will
force my foolish heart to be more calm. Judge the excess of my
love by my agonizing dread of losing your esteem, your heart."
Return to Love Letters menu |
