The Girls' Book of Famous QueensFarmer, Lydia Hoyt
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The Girls' Book of Famous Queens
Farmer, Lydia Hoyt
Queens -- Biography -- Juvenile literature
“Can it be possible, my friend? Is the letter indeed yours which I
have just received? Scarcely can I give it credence, on comparing the
present with those now before me, and to which your love gave so many
charms! My eyes cannot doubt that those pages which rend my heart are
too surely yours; but my soul refuses to admit that yours could have
dictated those lines, which to the ardent joy experienced on hearing
from you have caused to succeed the mortal grief of reading the
expressions of a displeasure, the more afflicting to me that it must
have proved a source of fearful pain to you.
“I am entirely ignorant in what I have offended, to create an enemy so
determined to ruin my repose by interrupting yours; but surely it must
be a great reason which can thus induce some one unceasingly to renew
against me calumnies of such a specious nature as to be admitted, even
for a moment, by one who hitherto has deemed me worthy of his entire
affection and confidence.
“Oh, my friend! in place of lending an ear to impostors, who, from
motives which I cannot explain, seek to ruin our happiness, why do you
not rather reduce them to silence by the recital of your benefits to a
woman whose character has never incurred the suspicion of ingratitude?
On hearing what you have done for me and for my children, my traducers
would be silent. Your conduct, admired as it has been throughout the
whole of Europe, has in my heart but awakened deeper adoration of
the husband who made choice of me, poor as I was, and unhappy. Every
step which you take adds to the splendor of the name I bear—and is
such a moment seized to persuade you that I no longer love you? What
absurdity, or rather what vileness, on the part of your companions,
jealous as they are of your marked superiority! I tremble when I think
of the dangers which surround you. God knows when or where this letter
may reach you. May it restore to you a repose which you ought never to
have foregone, and more than ever give you an assurance, that while
I live you will be dear to me as on the day of our last separation.
Farewell, my only friend! Confide in me, love me, and receive a
thousand tender caresses.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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