LETTER II
London, April 16th, 18O3.
What can I say to you? And why should I write to you. since the dark cloud that hangs over my destiny
will not, cannot be dispersed, and every ray of sunshine departed from it at the time I left you, never
to return?
If I am to write or to speak to those I love, I must speak and write from genuine feeling,
and why distress you with my overwhelming sorrows? God knows the portion of each individual is sufficient
for himself to bear.
I make the attempt to tell you many things that press upon ray aching memory,
but I feel myself unequal to it. I hope a little time will restore my tranquillity, at present my head
is so confused, it is not without difficulty I have said thus much though I should write volumes,
I could never describe what I have lost in you, my beloved friends, and the sweet angel that is gone
for ever. Good God, what a deprivation in a few days.
Adieu! Adieu.*
* this letter is not signed.
LETTER III.
For Mr. and Mrs. G-.
Pray ask Mr. G. to send me those sweet lines To Hope : that which he gave me is almost effaced
by my tears, and let it be written in the same hand.
LETTER IV.
My dear Mrs. G.
I now again cherish the hope that we may meet again, and enjoy much mutual p1easure in the society of
each other. Though such days as those which are past, we never can expect to see again.
I have again
sounded Mr. Harris on the subject of your return to Covent Garden, and though he cannot give you an
engagement for next winter, I think there can be no doubt that I may be able to make one for you the
ensuing season; tell me, then, what terms you would have me propose, (
In my answer I declined mentioning any; she knew my salary in Dublin, and of course I supposed I
must have somewhat more in a London theatre.) and do not doubt my zeal.
If I do vow a friendship, you know I will perform it to the last article
(I have, I trust, fully stated how truly this assertion has been adhered to in respect
to me,) write to me immediately,
for I will not let the matter cool if I can avoid
it.