I am come back, my dearest Bell; I have gone through the scene I so much dreaded, and am astonished I should ever think of it but with pleasure. How much did I injure this most amiable of women! Her reception of me was that of a tender parent, who had found a long-lost child; she kissed me, she pressed me to her bosom; her tears flowed in abundance; she called me her daughter, her other Lucy: she asked me a thousand questions of her son; she would know all that concerned him, however minute: how he looked, whether he talked much of her, what were his amusements; whether he was as handsome as when he left England. I answered her with some hesitation, but with a pleasure that animated my whole soul; I believe, I never appeared to such advantage as this day. You will not ascribe it to an unmeaning vanity, when I tell you, I never took such pains to please; I even gave a particular attention to my dress, that I might, as much as possible, justify my Rivers's tenderness: I never was vain for myself; but I am so for him: I am indifferent to admiration as Emily Montague; but as the object of his love, I would be admired by all the world; I wish to be the first of my sex in all that is amiable and lovely, that I might make a sacrifice worthy of my Rivers, in shewing to all his friends, that he only can inspire me with tenderness, that I live for him alone. Mrs. Rivers pressed me extremely to pass a month with her: my heart yielded too easily to her request; but I had courage to resist my own wishes, as well as her solicitations; and shall set out in three days for Berkshire: I have, however, promised to go with them to-morrow, on a party to Richmond, which Mr. Temple was so obliging as to propose on my account. Late as the season is, there is one more ship going to Quebec, which sails to-morrow. You shall hear from me again in a few days by the packet. Adieu! my dearest friend! Your faithful Emily Montague. Surely it will not be long before Rivers arrives; you, my dear Bell, will judge what must be my anxiety till that moment. LETTER 163. To Captain Fermor, at Silleri. Dover, July 24, eleven o'clock. I am arrived, my dear friend, after a passage agreable in itself; but which my fears for Emily made infinitely anxious and painful: every wind that blew, I trembled for her; I formed to myself ideal dangers on her account, which reason had not power to dissipate. We had a very tumultuous head-sea a great part of the voyage, though the wind was fair; a certain sign there had been stormy weather, with a contrary wind. I fancied my Emily exposed to those storms; there is no expressing what I suffered from this circumstance.