If I cease to love you! What a doubt is that? Do I cease to exist or does my life not depend more on the heart of Eloisa than my own? I feel, I feel you are a thousand times more dear to me than ever; and I find myself enabled, from the slumber of my desires, to love you more tenderly than before. My sentiments, it is true, are less passionate, but they are more affectionate, and are of different kinds: without loosing any thing of their force, they are multiplied; the mildness of friendship moderates the extravagance of love; and I can hardly conceive any kind of attachment which does not unite me to you. O my charming mistress! my wife! my sister! my friend! By what name shall I express what I feel, after having exhausted all those which are dear to the heart of man? Let me now confess a suspicion which, to my shame and mortification, I have entertained; it is that you are more capable of love than myself. Yes, my Eloisa, it is on you that my life, my being depends: I revere you with all the faculties of my soul; but yours contains more of love. I see, I feel, that love hath penetrated deeper into your heart than mine. It is that which animates your charms, which prevails in your discourse, which gives to your eyes that penetrating sweetness, to your voice such moving accents: it is that which your presence alone imperceptibly communicates to the hearts of others, the tender emotions of your own. Alas! How far am I from such an independent state of love! I seek the enjoyment, and you the love, of the beloved object: I am transported, and you enamoured; not all my transports are equal to your languishing softness; and it is in such sensations as yours, only that supreme felicity consists. It is but since yesterday that I have known such refined pleasure. You have left me something of that inconceivable charm peculiar to yourself; and I am persuaded that your sweet breath hath inspired me with a new soul. Haste then, I conjure you, to compleat the work you have begun. Take from me all that remains of mine, and give me a soul entirely yours. No, angelic beauty, celestial mind, no sentiments but such as yours can do honour to your charms. You alone are worthy to inspire a perfect passion; you alone are capable of feeling it. Ah! give me _your_ heart, my Eloisa, that I may love you as you deserve? Letter LVI. From Clara to Eloisa. I have a piece of information for my dear cousin, in which she will find herself a little interested. Last night there happened an affair between your friend and Lord B---- which may possibly become serious. Thus it was, as I had it from Mr. Orbe, who was present, and who gave me the following account this morning.