LETTER XXVIII

_[Paris] Dec. 26 [1794]._

I have been, my love, for some days tormented by fears, that I would not allow to assume a form--I had been expecting you daily--and I heard that many vessels had been driven on shore during the late gale.--Well, I now see your letter--and find that you are safe; I will not regret then that your exertions have hitherto been so unavailing.

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Be that as it may, return to me when you have arranged the other matters, which ---- has been crowding on you. I want to be sure that you are safe--and not separated from me by a sea that must be passed. For, feeling that I am happier than I ever was, do you wonder at my sometimes dreading that fate has not done persecuting me? Come to me, my dearest friend, husband, father of my child!--All these fond ties glow at my heart at this moment, and dim my eyes.--With you an independence is desirable; and it is always within our reach, if affluence escapes us--without you the world again appears empty to me. But I am recurring to some of the melancholy thoughts that have flitted across my mind for some days past, and haunted my dreams.

My little darling is indeed a sweet child; and I am sorry that you are not here, to see her little mind unfold itself. You talk of "dalliance;" but certainly no lover was ever more attached to his mistress, than she is to me. Her eyes follow me every where, and by affection I have the most despotic power over her. She is all vivacity or softness--yes; I love her more than I thought I should. When I have been hurt at your stay, I have embraced her as my only comfort--when pleased with you, for looking and laughing like you; nay, I cannot, I find, long be angry with you, whilst I am kissing her for resembling you. But there would be no end to these details. Fold us both to your heart; for I am truly and affectionately

Yours, MARY.