LETTER XXXII. Miſs FITZGERALD, to Miſs MORTIMER.

I COULD not get time till this day, to anſwer my Louiſa's very agreeable favour, of the 1ſt inſtant, as ſome old friends of my mother's have been with us theſe ten days, and I could not leave them long enough to compoſe an epiſtle, for we were always engaged either in [6]converſation or cards, as I happened to pleaſe the old ladies; and beſides that, they played whiſt, and could not make a party without me.

I had a letter from Charles yeſterday; he had ſettled his affairs to his ſatisfac⯑tion, and was returned to London, where, he ſays, his ſtay will be but ſhort, though he has made ſome agreeable acquaint⯑ances, and is engaged in a perpetual round of amuſements; but adds, he has ſo little reliſh for them when I am abſent, that he ſhall quit them very ſoon without the leaſt regret, and haſten to Dublin, where he hopes to meet me. Though I have not the leaſt doubt of his affection, I do not think myſelf bound to give credit to all he ſays on the ſubject; eſpe⯑cially as the livelineſs of his ſtile contra⯑dicts what he ſays of not having a reliſh for amuſement; I dare ſay, he enjoys them with a very good goût, nor am I ſo weak as to expect he ſhould not have any ſatisfaction but when I am preſent.

Poor Gertrude! Indeed I think ſhe muſt have a good deal of reſolution, if ſhe can keep up her ſpirits tolerably on the approaching change in her condition; for there is ſomething very melancholy in the idea, of leaving ones friends and country for ever: I ſhall be extremely ſorry if they go before I get to town; though to be ſure ſhe will come over now and then to ſee us all, and no doubt you will ſome⯑times pay her a viſit; if I can prevail on my mother to undertake it, we will make a party to ſpend two or three months at Montpellier; and I think ſhe would be the better of it.

Gertrude's couſins are fine girls, I hope ſhe will provide agreeable young men for their partners: Harry Maunſell, without doubt, will be a bride's-man, but we all know who will be the object of his atten⯑tion. You ſay there is very few to whom your example ſhould be recommended; and I will venture to aſſert, there is very few indeed who would chuſe to follow it; for notwithſtanding the many pretenders to ſentiment in both ſexes, there is not [8]one in a thouſand that has really ſuch re⯑fined notions, as to be capable of conſi⯑dering love in any other light than as a paſſion; ſo you need not be the leaſt apprehenſive that any of the Miſſes will bring themſelves into danger, by at⯑tempting to adopt your ideas on the ſubject: for I muſt confeſs you have a ſingularity in your opinions, that is per⯑fectly adapted to your ſituation; or, I believe, it will be rather more proper to ſay, you have adapted your ſituation to your ſentiments; for it is certainly of your own chuſing. You are a cha⯑racter, my dear Louiſa, an amiable one, every body acknowledges, but at the ſame time, very uncommon for ſo young a perſon. I wiſh I was juſt ſuch another, for I do not know any body ſo happy.

You are very ſevere on fine feelings, and I cannot but ſay, the ladies you hint at have left you great room to be ſo; however, I think it can be only an af⯑fectation of ſenſibility, when one feels only for themſelves; but weak nerves are ſo faſhionable, there is no being a fine lady without them.

I have got my poor woman removed to her new habitation, and preſented her with your generous donation; part of which ſhe will apply to the purpoſes you mention, when ſhe is able to attend to thoſe matters; as yet ſhe is very weak, though ſurprizingly recovered ſince ſhe has had proper care and nouriſhment; where ſhe is now all her neighbours will aſſiſt her, till ſhe is well enough to do her own work; and I am ſure they will al⯑ways be kind to her, for they know it will oblige me; and beſides that, the natural diſpoſition of our country people, is compaſſionate in a high degree: even the poor creatures ſhe lived near, when I met with her, ſhared their ſcanty provi⯑ſion with her; I gave them all ſome little matter, and will do more for them here⯑after. I need hardly tell you what prayers were put up for your hap⯑pineſs, when I gave her your preſent; one may eaſily ſee the woman has known better days, ſhe has ſuch de⯑cent notions.

I ſhall be dull on the 10th, with the recollection of all the amuſement I loſe by being here. I ſhall expect you will write to me next day, and will long for the arrival of the poſt.

I think it is quite right in Emily to diſcourage any declaration from James till ſhe has changed her mourn⯑ing, at leaſt; there is ſomething very indelicate in a woman liſtening to a lover, while in her weeds; even though ſhe had no reaſon to lament her huſ⯑band: but in a proper time I hope ſhe will lay aſide her reſerve, and that her father will not object, though James has but a thouſand a year, and ſhe has four, beſides all the money he can give her; yet the qualities of his mind ought to be conſidered. I ſhall be much concerned if he is diſ⯑appointed.

My mother joins me in wiſhing Ger⯑trude all the happineſs ſhe can expect or deſire; as well as in affectionate regards to you.

LETTER XXXIII. Miſs MORTIMER, to Miſs FITZGERALD.

IT was a moſt unconſcionable taſk you impoſed on me, Eliza, to write the day after a wedding, when all the folks are crouding to pay their compli⯑ments, and I as miſtreſs of the houſe ought to be ready to receive them; how⯑ever as I feared the diſappointment might be too much for you, I have left the bride to do the honours to her own com⯑pany, with Mrs. Rochfort to aſſiſt her: and I aſſure you, Gertrude looks very matronly to-day, and becomes her title extremely. I have quite provoked her, by ſaying, her ladyſhip when I ſpoke of her, or to her; you may think it was to [13]make her laugh I did it, as you know I am not much dazzled by titles: but I muſt tell you about yeſterday; for to hear of a wedding is the delight of all females, from fifteen to fifty. Gertrude, by my advice, was dreſſed early, and in the drawing-room before the company came, as I thought it would diſtreſs her leſs than coming in where they were all aſſembled; ſhe had only a white ſattin night-gown and petticoat, trimmed with ermine, gauze apron, and blond cap, and robbins, with a very fine net tippet, no jewels, except three brilliant pins in her cap, which there was no being with⯑out, but ſhe wore as few as poſſible, be⯑cauſe ſhe did not wiſh to be glittering. My gown was off the ſame piece, trimmed alſo like hers, but I had a lay-lock ſattin petticoat, elegantly quilted; the reſt of my dreſs quite in her ſtile, except I had a beautiful painted gauze ſhawl, inſtead of a tippet: her couſins were as fine as hands could make them, in white and ſilver, and a profuſion of diamonds in their hair.

Captain St. George, and Mr. Fitz⯑maurice were bride's-men, as were Mr. Fitzgerald, and Harry Maunſell.

The Count had a ſuit of pearl colour tabbinet, with a ſlight pattern of ſilver, and he really looked very handſome; but I have ſeen Gertrude look better than ſhe did; ſhe was rather pale, and kept up her ſpirits very indifferently: a woman cannot appear to advantage at her own wedding, unleſs ſhe is very thoughtleſs indeed.

The company were all aſſembled at ſeven o'clock, and the inſtant the tea⯑table was removed, the bride-groom ſtept forward, and leading out the bride, the ce⯑remony was immediately performed, and ſhe went through it much better than I expected, but was very near fainting when it was over; ſhe ſoon recovered herſelf, and when cake and wine was handed about, we all ſat down to cards, till ſupper, except Mr. O'Neil, and your [15]couſin James, who retired into another room, and played back-gammon till ten o'clock, when the old gentleman went home, but as a very particular compli⯑ment to Gertrude and me, permitted his wife to ſtay as long as ſhe pleaſed; and I aſſure you, that was a very great favour to us, and a remarkable indulgence to her; had I been his wife, it is an indul⯑gence I would take without his leave, for I ſhould not ſubmit to be treated like a child.

Supper paſſed over chearfully, and about twelve, Mrs. Ponſonby, (being the oldeſt matron in company) roſe to withdraw, and was followed by all the ladies: Gertrude, indeed, would have encreaſed her own confuſion, by being the laſt to move, only I perceived her ſlowneſs, and pretending her chair was on my gown, obliged her to riſe, and putting her forward amongſt the bride⯑maids, hurried her off, before the gentle⯑men had time to obſerve her; when the young ladies had got garter and pins to dream on, all the women went home, [16]and the Count quitting his company ſoon after, they were all gone by one o'clock. To-day we had ſeveral morn⯑ing viſitors, and the young folks that were at the marriage, are to ſpend the evening with us. This week will be in⯑tirely taken up in receiving compliments, and the next in returning them; for as Gertrude's ſtay here will be very ſhort, it is neceſſary for her to get that piece of ceremony over as ſoon as poſſible: I ſhall be heartily glad when it is over, for I am fatigued with the buſtle we have had this while paſt; you know I am no friend to a continual round of diſſipation. I have not time now to take notice of your laſt, nor does it require any particular anſwer. I give you joy of hearing from Charles, and hope I ſhall ſoon ſee you both in Dublin.

LETTER XXXIV. Mr. SKEFFINGTON, to Mr. MAUNSELL.

I HAVE been about three weeks in this centre of Amuſements, and ſo borne down by the torrent of diſſipati⯑on with which people here are over⯑whelmed, that I could not find time to perform my promiſe of writing to you, till this day, that a violent cold has ob⯑liged me to ſtay at home and nurſe my⯑ſelf; I got it by walking home late from a Tavern.

To confeſs the truth, raking does not agree with me, but it is ſcarce poſſible to withſtand the temptations that are con⯑tinually thrown in one's way, in a place where vice puts on the moſt alluring form, and covers her deformity with the ſpacious appearance of pleaſure, which one muſt be almoſt inſenſible to reſiſt; at leaſt, till experience has taught us wiſdom.

You cautioned me againſt Sharpers, and I was on my guard; but you did not tell me, I might be in as much danger from thoſe whoſe birth intitled them to be called Gentlemen; but perhaps you never met with ſuch, I would hardly be⯑lieve it myſelf, if I had not purchaſed my knowledge at the extravagant rate of two thouſand pounds. I did not at firſt ſuſpect, but latterly I perceived the cheat, and riſing, gave the gentleman a draft on my Banker for the money, in⯑forming him at the ſame time, I did not [19]chuſe to play any longer with one who underſtood all the game; and inſtantly quit the room, expecting he would fol⯑low to demand an explanation, as there was a deal of company preſent, who all heard what I ſaid.

It happened as I thought, for I had not gone ten yards when he came up with me, and aſking what my words meant, I anſwered, the meaning was ſo very obvious it could ſcarely be miſtaken; on which he drew his ſword, and bid me defend myſelf: I did it ſo effectually, that in leſs than a minute I wounded him in the ſword arm, and the weapon drop⯑ped from his hand; as he bled faſt, I adviſed him to return to the houſe we had juſt left, and ſend for a Surgeon; then bidding him good night, ſtepped into a Chair I met, and went home very much diſſatisfied with myſelf.

I had no apology for playing ſo deep, becauſe my fortune is already too large to receive any advantage from winning [20]that ſum, and though the loſs is no way material to me, yet ſince I had it to ſpare, I might have diſpoſed of it in a way that would have made ſeveral happy: the event too, might have been fatal, and duelling, you know, I greatly diſ⯑approve; but when his unfair practices were ſo plain, that I muſt ſee it, I ſhould have been looked on either as a fool or a coward, if I had not taken notice of it.

I took great care, however, not to wound him in a dangerous place, for I ſoon perceived he had very little ſkill: he is recovering faſt, but I ſhall always chuſe to avoid his company, as I muſt diſlike the man; beſides, I am deter⯑mined never to play again, but for a few guineas, which will not be worth any one's while to cheat for.

My intercourſe with the other Sex has been more agreeable; for affairs of Gallantry have offered every day without [21]my ſeeking. I ſhould be ſorry my love⯑ly Eliza knew how I have been led aſtray, though they were only venial tranſgreſ⯑ſions, in which the heart was no way concerned, and indeed, the man muſt be void of all paſſion that could with⯑ſtand ſuch temptations.

The women have ſuch a fund of vi⯑vacity, that they are the moſt agreeable miſtreſſes in the world; but for a wife, I would prefer the more reſerved chear⯑fulneſs of my pretty country-women. That, perhaps, may be prejudice; for it is likely an Engliſh-man would think them inſipid.

I have paid pretty high for my amuſe⯑ments in this way, though I aſſure you, it was not with thoſe who ſet their charms to ſale; but preſents muſt be made, and of value according to the rank of the fair one.

In all my dealings here, I find money is the Idol of the place, and the whole [22]force of the people's genius is turned towards the different methods of obtain⯑ing it.

I often think if a medium could be ſtruck between the Engliſh and the Iriſh, it would juſt produce a proper ſtandard whereby to regulate our oeconomy; for one loves Gold too much for their eter⯑nal welfare, the other too little for their temporal peace; as their total diſregard of it keeps their domeſtic affairs in con⯑tinual embarraſſment: I ſpeak of the general character of the two nations; for I know there are many exceptions in each.

I made an acquaintance in Suſſex, with a Miſs Freeman, who was in a vi⯑ſit with a family where I was intimate; ſhe lives in London, and when ſhe was coming to town, a few days before me, gave me an invitation to her aunt's houſe in Jermyn-ſtreet, where ſhe lives. I availed myſelf of it, and have paſſed ſeveral agreeable evenings there.

They are genteel people, and very pleaſ⯑ing. Miſs Freeman is a pretty lively girl, about nineteen; her aunt's daughter ſomething younger, and handſomer, but more ſerious than her couſin. I find the former has a large fortune at her own diſpoſal: I believe the aunt gave me that hint with ſome view, but my heart is already fixed, and if Eliza's ſentiments remain unaltered at my return, I have nothing more to wiſh for, except being at age, as I cannot marry till then; but I have a very ſhort time to wait for that.

I ſhall not expect to hear from you, ſince I mean to ſet out for Ireland in leſs than a week, and hope to find you and all thoſe I moſt wiſh to ſee, in Dublin.

My beſt compliments to Miſs Morti⯑mer, but do not tell her I am indiſpoſed, for I ſhall write to Eliza this poſt, and will not mention it, leſt ſhe ſhould be uneaſy.

Tell Fitzgerald, I have juſt received his letter, and will anſwer it if I have time, before I quit London.

LETTER XXXV. Miſs FITZGERALD, to Miſs MORTIMER.

I HAD the pleaſure of my dear Loui⯑ſa's letter, with an account of the wedding, and beg you will make my mother's compliments of congratulation, with mine, acceptable to Madame La Comteſſe. Seriouſly, no one can wiſh her happier than we do; and I hope to have an opportunity of telling her ſo in perſon, before ſhe leaves Ireland, as we [26]are to ſet out for Dublin in ten days, which has raiſed my ſpirits more effectu⯑ally, than a large doſe of ASSA-FAE⯑TIDA. Indeed there is no one induce⯑ment here, to make me wiſh to ſtay; for though the place is beautiful in Sum⯑mer, at this ſeaſon I can find nothing pleaſing in the country, eſpecially when every one is gone to town, except a few old ladies and gentlemen, that are kept priſoners by the Gout, or elſe are paſt all inclination for amuſement; and them you may think cannot be very agreeable companions for me.

Mr. Boyle, who returned a few days ago, is the only one that keeps us alive; he left his daughters in Dublin, and brought me a letter from the eldeſt, re⯑queſting, if I was not to be in town very ſoon, I would give her ſome excuſe to make you a viſit; for ſhe longs of all things to be acquainted with you: and though ſhe could be eaſily introduced, by ſome who viſit you, yet, as an inti⯑macy [27]is what ſhe wiſhes for, ſhe ſays, that would be ſooner accompliſhed if ſhe brought her credentials from me; theſe are her own words.

I have wrote, to inform her, I ſhall ſoon be in town, when I ſhall perform the part of Sir Clement Cottrel, and in⯑troduce her to your preſence. Mean time, if you ſhould meet her in compa⯑ny, as probably you may, I flatter my⯑ſelf, you will, on my recommendation, make ſome advances towards an ac⯑quaintance; and I am very ſure you will like her, and her ſiſter too, though not ſo well, for the reaſons I mention⯑ed. She is equally deſirous of being ac⯑quainted with you.

Their father will be in town again ſhortly.

I have not heard from Charles ſince. Little as he ſays he reliſhes amuſements, I find they engage a good deal of his attention, elſe he might have wrote to me more than once, ſince he has been in London.

I expect you will anſwer this, as I have ſtill ten days to ſtay here; and my next will be juſt to tell you, what day I ſet out for Dublin.

I am going with my mother to take an airing; muſt, therefore, conclude ab⯑ruptly.

I hope Gertrude has recovered her ſpi⯑rits, now the awful day is over.

LETTER XXXVI. Miſs MORTIMER, to Miſs FITZGERALD.

MY dear Eliza's letter has given me infinite pleaſure, by informing me I may ſoon hope to ſee her. Gertrude too, is quite joyful, for ſhe began to fear ſhe ſhould be gone before you arrived.

Yes, ſhe begins to lay aſide her me⯑lancholy, except at times, when ſhe thinks of leaving us; and I aſſure you, it is well you have had a letter from your Swain, who he ſuppoſes has left [31]London ere this; but you will hear from him by this poſt, for he ſays, at the concluſion of his, to Harry, he was go⯑ing to write to you.

He mentions a Miſs Freeman he is ac⯑quainted with there, and her couſin, as pretty agreeable girls; and ſays, he paſſes ſome of his hours very pleaſingly with them; you need not, however, be alarmed, for he, in the ſame paragraph, ſpeaks of you as the miſtreſs of his heart.

Mr. Maunſell read all thoſe extracts to me, but did not offer to ſhew me the letter, from which I gueſs he gives ſome account of his Adventures; and I believe the adventures of young men in London are not always fit for females to hear; ſo I would not aſk to ſee it.

I hope this is the laſt I ſhall write to you for this ſeaſon, as I expect the re⯑turn of the poſt will inform me that you [32]ſet out in a day or two. What delight⯑ful news that will be!

Adieu, dear girl. Commend me to Mrs. Fitzgerald, who I hope will get well through her journey; and be aſſur⯑ed, I am,

LETTER XXXVII. Miſs FITZGERALD, to Miſs MORTIMES.

I HAVE the pleaſure to acquaint my dear Louiſa, we ſhall begin our jour⯑ney the 24th; but as my mother is ſtill weak, and cannot bear fatigue, we ſhall be four days on the road, ſo the 28th in the evening I expect to find you waiting for me, that we may loſe no time, in once more enjoying each other's ſociety.

The ſame poſt brought me your letter, and one from Charles; as you ſuppoſed he [34]will not leave London till the 27th; and as he does not mean to travel poſt, I ſhall be in Dublin ſome days before him. He does not mention Miſs Freeman to me, but I aſſure you, I am not a bit inclined to be jealous of her, or any other perſon; I am rather apt to fear my uneaſineſs will ariſe from Mr. Skeffington's having too much affection for me, than too little; but I hope his going more into the gay world than he uſed to do, will cure him of any little defect in his tem⯑per, for people who have confined them⯑ſelves much to their ſtudy, are apt to fall into ſome particularity, which they grow aſhamed of when they ſee more of life.

I wiſh Mr. Maunſell had ſhewn you his letter, for his not doing it, makes me think there was ſomething about me in it, that he was unwilling you ſhould ſee: though upon conſideration, I believe it is more likely to be as you imagine; for as Harry knows how much you intereſt yourſelf in my happineſs, he would hardly conceal any thing that was mate⯑rial to it from you.

I am obliged to you for your intention of taking notice of the Miſs Boyles, if you meet them before I arrive, I would not requeſt it of you, but I am ſure you will find them agreeable, and I expect we ſhall be very happy together, while they ſtay in town, which I dare ſay will be till the Parliament is up, for their aunt ſtays till then.

I have no doubt but you will cure Harriet of her affectation, for I never met with any one that had the art of making one aſhamed of their own foibles, without giving offence, equal to you; your raillery is ſo void of ſatire, that it both pleaſes and inſtructs.

I do think it is beſt for Mr. Maunſell to be abſent from you; for though I have no idea he can ever ceaſe to love you, ſince his attachment is of ſo long a ſtand⯑ing, yet I dare ſay, variety of objects will amuſe his mind, and keep it from dwelling ſo inceſſantly on a ſubject that [36]muſt diſtreſs him, as he has not the moſt diſtant hope to ſupport his ſpirits with; and I agree with you, that ſome variation of place and company, is abſolutely ne⯑ceſſary to make life pleaſing: a love of ſociety is natural to us, and without en⯑joying it in a moderate degree, every one muſt ſink into gloomineſs, and, like your friends, will grow peeviſh and diſ⯑ſatisfied, for it is impoſſible that three or four people, living conſtantly together, retired from the reſt of the world, can always find a fund of converſation or en⯑tertainment in each other. I know it by experience, when I am in the country with my mother and Charles, who I need not tell you, are two of thoſe I love beſt; yet when we are any time without com⯑pany, or going abroad, I find myſelf grow ſtupid, and tired of every thing about me; to tell truth, I am at this in⯑ſtant in the very ſtate I am deſcribing, as I think my letter will convince you.

I am very glad I do not belong to the comfortable family you mention; what a treat your company muſt be to the young [37]people, for I ſuppoſe they are not much delighted with the comforts of being ſhut up from ſociety, though their pa⯑rents may have out-lived all taſte for earthly enjoyments; very thankful am I that my mother is not of that diſpoſition.

Farewell till the 28th, when I ſhall have the happineſs of telling you in per⯑ſon, how affectionately I am

LETTER XXXVIII. MISS MORTIMER, TO THE COUNTESS ROUSILLON.

THE receipt of my dear Gertrude's letter, relieved me from great un⯑eaſineſs, which I ſuffered by not getting an account of your arrival in France; but the round you took, and all the viſits you made to the Count's relations, on your journey, is ſufficient reaſon for my not hearing from you ſooner. I am happy to find they all received you ſo kindly; for politeneſs alone would be only what you had a right to expect; one wiſhes to meet with ſomething more from the family they go into; and it gives me much ſatisfaction, that you [39]have met with that tenderneſs and affec⯑tion, which I am ſure you will merit from them.

Your departure made us all melan⯑choly; and each morning when Emily and I met at breakfaſt, we renewed each other's concern, by obſerving how lonely we were without poor Gertrude; and in⯑deed, if I was inclined to forget you, Wilſon would not let me, for ſhe laments you daily, when ſhe comes to take my orders, and brings her accounts for my inſpection, always obſerving how good you were, to ſpare me that trouble; and I muſt acknowlege I have a loſs of you in that reſpect, though ſhe is ſo careful and exact, that I find it leſs diſagreeable than it would be, if I had a different ſort of perſon in her place; but ſhe is faithful and honeſt, and I eſteem ſuch a ſervant to be invaluable.

I have had ſeveral letters from Harry, ſince you left him in London, and think he is recovering his uſual chearfulneſs; the [40]firſt to be ſure was filled with lamentati⯑ons and regrets, and all the etcetera's of ſoft nonſenſe; but I have abſolutely pro⯑hibited that ſubject, on pain of returning his letters unanſwered: he murmured a little at my cruelty, but was obliged to comply with the reſtriction; and now he writes like a rational creature, and is a very pleaſing correſpondent. Your CARO-SPOSO did him no good, for he encouraged him in all his romance and folly, and only for this fortunate call to England, I ſhould have had him ſighing, and dying at my feet, till both for his ſake, and my own, I would have been under a neceſſity of quarrelling with him; when he goes to France, I beg you will not indulge him in talking of certain cir⯑cumſtances, that had better be for⯑got.

Mr. Hamilton has been in town this month; Charles and he are on the moſt friendly terms, without any appearance of the ſuſpicions his preſence formerly raiſed; ſo you may judge how happy Eliza is: I ſuppoſe matters will ſoon be [41]brought to a concluſion there, as Mr. Skeffington will be at age early in June, and then I think there will be nothing to prevent it.

Miſs Freeman, that you heard him mention, has been in Dublin ſome weeks, and I have a ſtrong idea, that it is an at⯑tachment to Charles has brought her over. She ſays, ſhe was ordered ſea⯑ſickneſs for a diſorder in her ſtomach; and as ſhe had a deſire to ſee Dublin, ſhe thought ſhe might as well come here as any where; the ſtory is plauſible, and I fancy is believed by every one but me: however, if ſhe was ill, the remedy has been very effectual, for ſhe has not the leaſt remains of any complaint whatever; beſides, I think it very extraordinary, that her friends would let her come to a ſtrange country, in ſuch ill health, without any companion but her waiting-maid.

She has brought letters of introduction to ſome genteel families here, who of courſe pay great attention to her; but I [42]obſerve ſhe takes great pains to cultivate an intimacy with Eliza, who went to viſit her, on account of the civility ſhe and her aunt had ſhewn Mr. Skeffington, for ſhe ſent to him the day after ſhe arrived, and had firſt fixed herſelf in a lodging next ſtreet to him.

Eliza gave her a general invitation, to come to them whenever ſhe was diſen⯑gaged, and ſhe avails herſelf of it in a manner that ſhews ſhe means to be quite on free terms with her; all theſe things make me very obſervant of her, as I fear ſhe has ſome ſcheme of ſupplanting Eliza in Charles's affections; I do not, how⯑ever, think that would be eaſily done, unleſs ſhe ſhould diſcover that tincture of jealouſy in his temper, by which he might he wrought upon.

She is rather pretty, and uncommonly lively. In my opinion, if her vivacity was a little tempered with diſcretion, ſhe would be much more agreeable, for at preſent it borders upon levity.

I know the Engliſh women are of a more ſprightly diſpoſition than the Iriſh; but I never met any of them that could not ſet ſome bounds to it, but this young lady, who quite over-powers me with her amazing volubility, and you know I have a downright horror of being talked to death. One happineſs to her hearers is, ſhe does not talk nonſenſe, and though I am not much delighted with her, ſhe is generally thought agreeable.

I can perceive I am no great favourite with her, notwithſtanding ſhe effects an eſteem for me to Eliza; but I am ſure ſhe would not wiſh I was ſo often at that houſe, for ſhe has ſaid (more than once) ſhe believed I had a deal of penetration.

I have ſaid perhaps too much on ſur⯑miſe, (for I acknowlege it is nothing more) except ſo far as relates to her liking Charles, which I have no doubt about; but my ſuſpicions aroſe from [44]obſervations I have made on her beha⯑viour.

I ſhall, however, be well pleaſed to loſe my character for penetration in this particular.—Mr. Fitzgerald has declared himſelf in form to Mrs. Roch⯑fort; and ſhe has poſitively refuſed to liſten to him again on that ſubject, du⯑ring the firſt year of her widow-hood; a pretty hint that, for him to renew it at the expiration of that time. When ſhe told me what paſſed between them, I ſaid, very ſeriouſly, (but with a ſignificant look) it was really kind of her to limit his time of probation. She had not been aware of the inference I would draw, and it threw her into the utmoſt confu⯑ſion; when ſhe could ſpeak, ſhe ſaid, no one would think of ſuch a thing but my⯑ſelf: if, ſaid I, Mr. Fitzgerald does not think of it, he is more dull of apprehen⯑ſion than any lover I ever heard of; but do not be uneaſy, for you know widows are privileged to give a modeſt hint of their intentions. She bluſhed ſo exceſ⯑ſively, and ſeemed ſo diſtreſſed, that I [45]pitied her, though I could not help laughing at her being ſo affected; but ſhe has an uncommon degree of baſh ful⯑neſs: I relieved her, by ſaying, I owed her that teizing for her reſerve to me on that affair; for ſhe conſtantly denied her partiality for James, though it was very viſible, and I was determined to mortify her for it.

I allow it is not delicate to make open declaration of our favourable opinion of a man, however worthy he may be; but to deny it ſo poſitively to a particular friend, that one was living in the houſe with, looks, I think, either like prudery, or diſtruſt.

When ſhe found I had taken it amiſs, ſhe apologized, by aſſuring me, it pro⯑ceeded only from a wiſh to conceal her ſentiments from every body, (even herſelf if poſſible) till ſhe knew if her father would approve of Mr. Fitzgerald, as ſhe meant to be guided by him. I could not help ſaying, I thought it would be carrying [46]her obedience too far; though I have as high a notion of the duty we owe our parents as moſt people; but as ſhe had once made herſelf unhappy to oblige him, I did not think it neceſſary to con⯑ſult his caprice in a ſecond choice, when we knew his love of money, and that inequality of fortune, was the only ob⯑jection could be made in the preſent caſe. She certainly ought to inform her father of the affair, but if he objected merely on the grounds I mention, I did not think ſhe was under any obligation to comply with an unreaſonable hu⯑mour, conſidering ſhe was now her own miſtreſs: if ſhe was ſtill under her parents authority, I ſhould think her right extended no farther than to refuſe a perſon ſhe could not be hap⯑py with, but not to marry any one againſt their conſent.

She ſeemed to join in my opinion, but ſaid ſhe had been uſed to obey ſo implicitly, and beſides was of ſuch a timid diſpoſition, ſhe doubted if ſhe [47]would have reſolution to follow her own inclinations.

I hope ſhe will not be put to the trial, as Mr. O'Neil profeſſes a moſt violent friendſhip for James, and ſets him up as a pattern for all young men that he knows.

I ſhall continue to write to you an account of all our proceedings here, without the formality of waiting for an anſwer, ſince the war prevents a re⯑gular intercourſe between the two coun⯑tries.

The Miſs Boyles and I are become intimate; you were prejudiced in their favour by the little you had ſeen of them before you left us, and if you had known more of them, you would like them ſtill better, as they improve on an acquaintance; particularly Har⯑riet, whoſe good ſenſe is a little ob⯑ſcured by affectation, which however [48]ſhe is throwing off very faſt; you can⯑not think how much I made her a⯑ſhamed of it, ſo much, that it is only long habit makes her ever practiſe it, and the leaſt look from me corrects her.

I think Mr. Hamilton begins to at⯑tach himſelf to Miſs Boyle, but I do not find it is obſerved by any one elſe, nor am I quite ſure of it, but I wiſh it may be ſo, ſince it would remove all cauſes of uneaſineſs from Charles, as he is the only one he ever ſeemed to fear would rival him.

Mr. Boyle is my CE CISBEO, and flirts moſt delightfully, conſidering he is old enough to be my father. I am a prodigious favourite of his, and indeed I return the compliment, for I think him the moſt chearful, pleaſing man, I ever met with; of an elderly one, I mean.

You muſt ſuppoſe a million of com⯑pliments and good wiſhes, from all your friends and acquaintances here, for it would fill a ſheet of paper to enumerate them.—Do not be jealous that I deſire my love to your huſband. Are not you ſhocked at ſuch an obſolete epithet?

LETTER XXXIX. Miſs FREEMAN, to Miſs VERNON.

SINCE my arrival in this metropolis, I have wrote three letters to my dear Charlotte, and have received but one from her; but as the packets are kept out by contrary winds, I take it for grant⯑ed, your anſwers to my other two are detained by that means, and ſhall pro⯑ceed to give you an account of my Iriſh acquaintances.

I have already informed you of the polite, or, I may rather ſay, kind recep⯑tion I met with, from every family to whom I brought letters; and I have now to tell you, their civility rather increaſes every day; indeed I think there is no end to the attention a ſtranger meets with in this land of hoſpitality, which has in ſpite of all my prejudices, reconciled me to a people of whom we are taught to entertain the moſt unjuſt ideas; for I aſ⯑ſure you, I find them the very reverſe of every thing our country folks uſually imagine them to be: and I begin to ſee, it is very illiberal to ſuppoſe merit is con⯑fined to any one particular clime or king⯑dom.

I told you Miſs Fitzgerald, (Skeffing⯑ton's intended) had paid me a viſit, and given me a genteel invitation to go to their houſe, whenever I was not other⯑wiſe engaged, as they live in the next ſtreet, for I took care to fix myſelf near them. She has ſince ſhewed, ſhe meant more than mere compliment, for ſhe [52]came herſelf ſeveral times and took me with her, after taking me airing, or to ſuch places in the town, as ſhe thought worth my ſeeing; ſo we were now as free as if we had been acquainted this twelve month.

She is a pretty gentle ſoul, entirely compoſed of the tender paſſions, and has too much ſenſibility for her own peace of mind, which I am very ſorry for, ſince there is a great deal of un⯑eaſineſs in ſtore for her; I wiſh it was otherwiſe, but I never was uſed to put any perſon's happineſs in competition with my own; a ſtranger cannot there⯑fore expect that compliment from me; beſides I really think I ſhall do them a ſervice in ſeparating them, for were two ſuch quiet mortals as Skeffington and ſhe, to go together, they would inevit⯑ably fall into a lethargy, by the perfect ſameneſs of each other's temper: now if I take him, I believe I may engage to keep him from that diſorder, by the continual variety of my diſpoſition; not to ſay any thing of my ſpirit, which I [53]flatter myſelf is ſufficient to keep any man awake, for though I love him to diſ⯑traction, and will go any lengths to obtain him, I do not mean to be the ſame turtle, when married, that his Eliza would be: it is neceſſary to rouſe them ſometimes, that they may ſet the higher value on your good temper, when you chuſe to treat them with it.

There is a Miſs Mortimer that ſtands very much in my way, for ſhe is Eliza's boſom friend, and chief adviſer, ſhe is very civil to me, and aſks me to her par⯑ties; but ſhe has quick diſcernment, and, I think, obſerves me with a penetrating eye; for which reaſon I am in awe of her, and of courſe do not like her; but that I keep to myſelf, for I find ſhe is a general favourite, even amongſt the wo⯑men, though very much the taſte of the men.—Is not this odd? She is not handſome, but has great expreſſion in her countenance, and is by no means ugly; her diſpoſition is exceedingly live⯑ly, and a vein of humour runs through her converſation, that makes it vaſtly [54]pleaſing; however, her vivacity never leads her into an impropriety, for her underſtanding is in the ſuperior degree, and ſhe conducts herſelf with the ſame prudence you might expect from her grand-mother. I have been particular in my deſcription of her, becauſe I think her rather an extraordinary cha⯑racter for a woman, not above four and twenty: but do you know, I hate thoſe pieces of infallibility; their man⯑ners are a tacit reproach on us, who are too volatile to be reſtrained by dull rules of decorum.

The women here, would, in general ſuit your taſte better than mine; for though very chearful, they have a ſe⯑dateneſs in them, that would be juſt the thing for you, who are a good deal in that ſtile yourſelf.

I have this inſtant got a piece of intel⯑ligence, that is of the utmoſt importance to me: Skeffington has a ſpark of jealouſy in his boſom, which if I do not [55]blow into a flame, I deſerve to loſe him. It never broke out till within theſe few months; the perſon who raiſed it is a Mr. Hamilton, a moſt accompliſhed young man; he is at preſent in town; is very intimate at Mrs. Fitzgerald's, and ſeems to be on the moſt friendly terms with Charles; however ſince he once looked on him as a rival, there can be no great difficulty in placing him in the ſame light again, for ſuſpicions of that na⯑ture may be revived with very little addreſs.

Letty, whom I ordered to make an ac⯑quaintance with Miſs Fitzgerald's maid, got this information from her; but as ſhe is not in her miſtreſs's ſecrets, ſhe could not tell how he was convinced there was no cauſe for his fears; it was from ſome unguarded expreſſions of his own, ſhe diſcovered his foible; ſhe ſaid ſhe told her lady of it at the time, who bid her not mention it, and ſhe never heard more of it after, though ſhe per⯑ceived her very low-ſpirited at times, till of late ſhe ſeems quite eaſy: be that as it [56]may, I think I cannot fail of ſucceeding, now I know his weak ſide, as I ſhall di⯑rect all my attack againſt that; but how I ſhall proceed, I cannot at preſent in⯑form you, ſince my operations muſt be determined by the circumſtance of the moment.

I never gave you a more convincing proof of the confidence I place in you, than by letting you into my intention of going ſuch lengths to accompliſh my wiſhes, ſince I know you will not ap⯑prove of it; but I alſo know, your affec⯑tion for me, will prevent your taking any ſteps to fruſtrate my deſigns, as your knowledge of my diſpoſition muſt tell you, ſuch a meaſure would inevita⯑bly be attended with fatal conſequences.

Whatever I do, muſt be done ſoon, for he will be at age in a few weeks, and they are to be married as ſoon after, as he can go through ſome neceſſary forms of law, to enable him to make proper ſettlements; for notwithſtanding they [57]have loved, and been intended for each other from their infancy, ſhe has pa⯑tiently waited till all theſe matters could be done regularly.

So important do the ladies here eſteem the ſecurity of their fortunes, that a girl who would marry without that precau⯑tion, would be looked on as a prodigy of imprudence, while we give away thouſands, without aſking any return but love. Surely the Iriſh women muſt have very cold conſtitutions, or very great command of their paſſions, elſe their reaſon could not act ſo powerfully.

What has reaſon and love to do with each other! The aſſociation is unnatu⯑ral, and never entered into a breaſt truly occupied by that tender paſſion, as I can vouch from experience.

I would not venture to ſpeak ſo open⯑ly, but that I know your mother cannot be returned to town yet; if you ſhould [58]find ſhe means to come ſooner than we expected, let me know, as I would not for the world one of my letters ſhould fall into her hands: no doubt ſhe was greatly aſtoniſhed when you informed her I was gone to Ireland.

You muſt not expect I ſhall write fre⯑quently now as I have done, becauſe my mind will be otherwiſe employed.

LETTER XL. Miſs FREEMAN, to Miſs VERNON.

I HAVE a whole packet of my dear Charlotte's letters now before me; and as Skeffington and the Fitzgeralds are gone to dine a few miles from town, I take the opportunity of anſwering them, for when they are at home, I am generally with, or expect them to call on me.

Chance has been favourable to my deſign, and put it in a train, that perhaps my own ingenuity could not have ſo eaſily brought about: Miſs Fitzgerald, and Mr. Hamilton have accidentally met at my lodgings, on morning viſits, two or three different times, when by the greateſt good fortune that could happen, Charles luckily called in, and ſound them there; the firſt time, he did not ſeem to mind it; but the ſecond I ſaw, made an impreſſion on him; and the laſt, which was yeſterday, they all looked embarraſſ⯑ed. Hamilton ſoon took leave; (you muſt know I encouraged an intimacy with him, in hopes it would ſome way anſwer my purpoſe) Charles and Eliza ſat a while, and then I went home with them, being engaged to paſs the day there.

He continued very ſerious, and ſhe very badly affected chearfulneſs: in the evening, however, we were ſet a little to rights; two Miſs Boyles, who are fre⯑quently there, came into tea, which rouſed them from their thoughtfulneſs, [61]and when tea was over, we all went to the Rotunda, where we were joined by Mr. Hamilton; but as he attached himſelf to the eldeſt Miſs Boyle, whom I think he admires, Charles's good humour rather encreaſed; the muſic too, of which he is very fond, ſeemed to compoſe his ſpirits, and he went home much eaſier in mind than he had been all day; but as this meeting by chance affects him ſo much, I ſhall take the hint, and improve upon it: I cannot now be more explicit as my plan is not thoroughly digeſted.

You aſk how I can be ſo barbarous as to make an amiable girl wretched, who has ſhewed me ſuch friendſhip? I an⯑ſwer, becauſe my own happineſs is dearer to me than that of any other perſon; and as to the civility ſhe has ſhewn me, ſhe would do the ſame to any other ſtranger that was introduced to her; it is the natural diſpoſition of the people here, therefore I do not eſteem it any particular compliment to me; ſo my conſcience is eaſy on that head, and I beg I may have no more of your preaching; [62]it comes mighty ill from a girl of eigh⯑teen.

My aunt, you tell me, is much diſ⯑pleaſed at my expedition; I gueſſed ſhe would, which was the reaſon I took the opportunity to come off while ſhe was in the country; I was determined, and there was no uſe in having an argument upon it. If ſhe knew my purpoſe, I ſuppoſe ſhe would come over expreſs to prevent it; and if ſhe was not two hun⯑dred miles from London, and likely to be detained there, till as I hope my bu⯑ſineſs will be accompliſhed, I would not have given you the ſmalleſt item of it; but I caution you to dread the conſe⯑quence of betraying me.

If I can but ſucceed, in making a quarrel between Skeffington and his fair couſin, I have no doubt but I ſhall eaſily obtain her place in his heart, and then you ſhall▪ ſee how good, how religious, and all that, I will be the reſt of my life.

I wiſh I was rid of this Miſs Mor⯑timer for a while; I think ſhe per⯑fectly keeps guard over Eliza, and there is no having her to one's ſelf, long enough to get into her confidence, which I am ſure I would have done long ſince, if her friend was out of my way; and that would be of great uſe to forward my ſcheme, for I am ſure I could draw her into things that would confirm his ſuſpicions, if ſhe was without the advice of one who is ſo well acquainted with her diſpoſi⯑tion, and ſo intereſted in her happi⯑neſs; beſides that, I have reaſon to think ſhe ſuſpects my attachment to Skeffington, and is therefore more anxious, to prevent Eliza from being too open in her communications to me; for neither of them has ever dropped the leaſt hint of his jealouſy: however, I believe all her wiſdom and precau⯑tion, will be inſufficient to obſtruct the ſucceſs of my plan, which I look upon as certain, now that the knowledge [64]of his temper gives me ſuch a ſure foundation to work upon.

You aſk me of Miſs Mortimer's fa⯑mily, and ſituation, and ſeem won⯑derfully taken with her character; ſhe is deſcended from one of the old⯑eſt families in England, and I think values herſelf on her pedigree, though ſhe is at the ſame time exceedingly complaiſant and affable to every one. Her father and mother are dead; but I ſuppoſe her fortune muſt be quite eaſy, ſince ſhe has a houſe elegantly furniſhed; viſits, and is viſited by all the fine folks here, and is treated with all that reſpect and attention that is uſu⯑ally paid to thoſe who are totally in⯑dependant: in ſhort, ſhe ranks in the upper claſs of life, but will not be a ſlave to particular forms, and empty ceremonies, which, ſhe ſays, is the very reverſe of true politeneſs; how ſhe manages, I do not know, but every thing ſhe does pleaſes, and ſhe is ſet [65]up as a pattern to all young ladies, as ſoon as they are brought into com⯑pany; and as I told you, much ad⯑mired by the men. To all that I have ever ſeen with her, ſhe behaves with ſuch perfect equality, that I cannot gueſs which of them ſhe pre⯑fers; yet it is ſcarcely probable that ſhe has not ſome attachment: beſides I have heard hints among them that convinces me ſhe has, but I believe there is ſome myſtery in it, that I cannot fathom; and the ladies here are very reſerved on thoſe ſubjects: I am dying to find it out too, for I ſhould have great ſatisfaction in know⯑ing ſhe had an imprudent intangle⯑ment; but no matter, I ſhall tri⯑umph over her ſagacity yet, not⯑withſtanding all her endeavours to watch me, for I ſee plainly her ſuſ⯑picions of me encreaſe.

When, you hear from me next, probably ſomething deciſive will be [66]done, for the time advances faſt.—Till then farewell.

LETTER XLI. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

I HAVE ſeparated them I hope, for ever; but it has produced a conſe⯑quence I was not prepared for; he went off to England in the firſt tranſports of his jealouſy, and I fear he may take the fancy of going abroad to amuſe his mind; but I am haſtening after him, and if I can but keep him in England, his going [68]there will be much to my advantage, be⯑cauſe it will effectually prevent their coming to any explanation, and baffle all Miſs Mortimer's cleverneſs.

I write while Letty is packing my things, and you may expect me in a day or two after you receive this, when I will tell you how I brought the matter about.

LETTER XLII. Miſs MORTIMER, to HENRY MAUNSELL, Eſq;

WHAT poor weak mortals you men are! borne away by every guſt of paſſion, and with all your boaſted wiſdom, incapable of conducting your⯑ſelves with propriety, in the common occurrences of life!—Any girl juſt eſcaped from the nurſery, can, if ſhe ſets her wits to work, make you believe improbabilities.

Excuſe me Harry; I have no reaſon to accuſe you of thoſe follies, but I am angry with the whole ſex, and vexed to death, that it ſhould be in the power of any of you to make my poor Eliza unhappy.

Your friend Mr. Skeffington, is flown off to England in a fit of jealouſy; and upon the credit of an anonymous ſcrawl he received, has accuſed the ſweet girl (whoſe heart he has poſſeſſed from her infancy) of inconſtancy, and I know not what nonſenſe. Mr. Hamilton is ſtill the object of his ſuſpicions, though he is ac⯑tually paying his addreſſes to Miſs Boyle, and that any body might ſee, that did not chuſe to ſhut their eyes againſt con⯑viction. He will certainly avoid you, and I do not wiſh you to ſeek him out; it could be of no uſe at preſent, beſides our pride forbids it.

I am certain that Miſs Freeman he mentioned to you, is at the bottom of it [71]all; I told you ſhe was here, and that I thought ſhe liked Charles; every day convinced me I was right, and I have now no doubt of it, for ſhe ſet off for England this morning, which was as ſoon as ſhe could go, after ſhe heard of his departure, and ſhe had never menti⯑oned her intentions before. She lives with her aunt, a Mrs. Vernon, in Jer⯑myn-ſtreet, and I ſhould be glad you would keep a watch on the houſe, to ſee if he goes or ſends there; he has taken Will Lacky with him; the fellow you know is his foſter-brother, and I am ſure has his maſter's happineſs at heart; ſo if your James could meet with him, I dare ſay he would give ſome intelligence how he means to diſpoſe of himſelf.

I do not ſuppoſe he will continue in England, unleſs that little witch contrives ſome ſtratagem to detain him; and I would wiſh to know where he is, or is likely to be, becauſe Mrs. Fitzgerald, who loves him nearly as well as ſhe loves Eliza, is quite miſerable about him; be⯑ſides [72]one would chuſe to know his mo⯑tions, as ſomething may yet happen to ſet matters right again, and make him aſhamed of a weakneſs that cauſes ſo much unhappineſs to thoſe, whoſe felicity I know he would wiſh to promote.

I make no apology for the employment I give you, as I know your regard for the parties concerned, excluſive of the pleaſure you will have in obeying my commands.—You ſee I have ſaid that for you, juſt to ſave you the trouble of repeating what you have ſo often told me.

LETTER XLIII. MISS MORTIMER, TO THE COUNTESS DE ROUSILLON.

I PROMISED to give my dear Ger⯑trude, an account of all the occur⯑rences among us that were worth relating, and I have now to inform you of one that I believe will give you much con⯑cern; Charles Skeffington departed ab⯑ruptly for England, four days ago, in a paroxiſm of jealouſy, which I am certain has been rouſed by the machinations of that Miſs Freeman, of whom I hinted [74]my ſuſpicions in my laſt; they are con⯑firmed by her ſetting out for England as ſoon as ſhe found he was gone, on a pretence of being wrote for on material buſineſs, though there had not a packet arrived in the time; for as I ſuſpected her, I ſent to enquire.

Eliza bears it ſurpriſingly; ſhe is hurt by his behaviour, and her pride ſupports her for the preſent, but I fear that will not continue long; ſhe is too gentle, and loved him too well, not to regret her diſappointment. I do my beſt to keep up her reſentment, but I know it will not do; tender recollections will obtrude themſelves on her mind, and interrupt, if not totally deſtroy her happineſs.

Her mother too is greatly to be pitied, for ſhe loved Charles as if he had been her own ſon, and you cannot imagine how much his preſent conduct affects her: add to that, ſhe has terrible appre⯑henſions for Eliza's health, which indeed, [75]I think, likely to ſuffer from the ſhock ſhe has received.

I ſhall adviſe them to go to Montpel⯑lier; changing the ſcene may be of uſe to her, and as you mean to leave Paris this month, you will be at Rouſillon be⯑fore they could reach it, and I am ſure would contribute all in your power to amuſe the dear girl; if I poſſibly can, I will accompany them, but that is at pre⯑ſent uncertain.

It is time for me to tell you how the affair happened, at leaſt as much as I know of it: I told you in my laſt, I was ſure Miſs Freeman liked Charles; as I obſerved her cloſely, I was every day more convinced of it, as well as that ſhe muſt have ſome ſcheme in coming over; for which reaſon, I gave her as few op⯑portunities of being alone with Eliza as poſſible; for being extremely artleſs her⯑ſelf, I feared ſhe would be too unreſerved, and lay herſelf open to the other's cun⯑ning to take advantage of.

I was conſtantly uneaſy for her, though I did not know preciſely what to fear; and was much more ſo when I found Mr. Hamilton and Eliza had met by ac⯑cident, at Miſs Freeman's lodgings ſeve⯑ral times; Charles had found them there, and ſhewed ſtrong ſymptoms of returning jealouſy; when Eliza told me what had happened, I mentioned my ſuſpicions of Miſs Freeman, and cautioned her to guard againſt her artifices, and not to go to her without Charles. She promiſed ſhe would not, but ſeemed to think I wronged the girl very much, who ſhe ſaid, was too volatile to manage any deep laid plot. She however look my advice, and ſeldom went to her, but invited her to their houſe as uſual. Matters were in this way when Mrs. Rochfort got a vio⯑lent cold which confined her, and you may think I would not leave her.

Mrs. Fitzgerald was alſo indiſpoſed; ſo that I had not ſeen Eliza for three days, when I was much ſurpriſed at re⯑ceiving a note from her at twelve o'clock, [77]Monday night, requeſting I would go to her immediately, and prepare for ſtaying till morning, as an accident had happen⯑ed which greatly affected her; to prevent delay ſhe ſent the carriage for me.

I ſhewed the note to Emily, in whoſe chamber I was ſitting, begging ſhe would excuſe me, if I ſhould not be at home at breakfaſt, and ordering Jenny to put my night cloaths into the chariot, went off, very much alarmed, as both Emily and I had concluded it to be ſomething relative to Charles.

When I ſtepped into the hall, the ſer⯑vants all looked ſad and ſilent, Kitty met me, with her eyes quite red from crying, as ſhe was lighting me up ſtairs, Kitty, ſaid I, what ails your miſtreſs? Oh! ma'am, Mr. Skeffington; and burſting into tears, was unable to ſay more, but conducted me in ſilence to Mrs. Fitz⯑gerald's bed-chamber, who ſat in her eaſy chair weeping. When ſhe ſaw me, you are very good, Miſs Mortimer, ſays [78]ſhe; my poor girl wanted ſuch a friend to comfort her, looking towards Eliza, who ſat leaning her elbow on the dreſ⯑ſing table, her hand ſupporting her head, in the other ſhe had two letters open, which ſhe held out to me, ſaying, read them Louiſa; they will explain our pre⯑ſent ſituation better than I am able to do, and be my excuſe for bringing you out at this late hour. I took them, and read as follows:

The letter alluded to, was badly wrote, and worſe ſpelt, it contained the fol⯑lowing lines:

You will obſerve, this was calculated to make him ſuppoſe it wrote by ſome one in his own family; accordingly his ſuſ⯑picions fell on Kitty, for ſhe ſays, when he was quitting the houſe, he called for her, and giving her the letter for Eliza, put five guineas into her hand, ſaying, he believed he was under an obligation to her; though if her miſtreſs confided in [83]her, ſhe did wrong to betray her ſecrets. He forgot he had once endeavoured to tempt her to do the very ſame thing, he now diſapproved. The girl did not know what he meant; ſhe muſt be innocent of it, for ſhe could not poſſibly tell her miſ⯑treſs would go to the Rotunda, before ſhe knew it herſelf: that could only be told by the perſon who was determined to take her there.

Having read the letters, I aſked Eliza, had ſhe been at the Rotunda that even⯑ing? ſhe anſwered yes; but begged I would not condemn her, till I heard her ſtory. She then proceeded to tell me, that in the morning Miſs Freeman had come to breakfaſt, as ſhe often did, but would not ſtay the day, though much preſſed, alledging, ſhe was geting a beautiful fancy trimming on a gown, and muſt go home to ſhew her maid how to put it on, for ſhe would not let the man⯑tua-maker do it, leſt it ſhould not be to her taſte; but ſaid if it was done, ſhe [84]would come in the evening, as ſhe knew Charles would be out of town.

She left us ſoon after, and we heard no more of her till ſix in the after-noon, Letty came ſeemingly in a great hurry, with a requeſt from her miſtreſs, that I ſhould go drink tea with her; I anſwered, ſhe knew I could not leave my mother. Ah, ma'am! ſhe bid me tell you, ſhe is in the utmoſt diſtreſs, for Mr. Harman is come to tea, and ſhe does not think it prudent to entertain gentlemen at her lodgings, without having ſome other lady with her, and ſhe cannot make ſo free with any one but you, as to expect they would come on ſuch ſhort notice.

As Mr. Harman is reputed to be an admirer of Miſs Freeman's, my mother was charmed with her diſcretion, and in⯑ſiſted I ſhould go, ſaying, ſhe was now well enough to amuſe herſelf by reading. I therefore told the girl, I would follow her as ſoon as the horſes could be put to, [85]which I did. Miſs Freeman met me on the ſtairs, and in her own rattling way, ſaid I was the beſt girl in the world; if I had not come ſhe would have been ruin⯑ed, for there was two of them with her now; but bid me not ſay any thing of being juſt ſent for. We had by this time reached the drawing-room, where I found the gentleman already mentioned, and Mr. Hamilton; I would rather he had not been there, but as Charles was not likely to know of it, I was the leſs concerned; be it as it would, I would not go away again. We had tea immedi⯑ately; and a great deal of wit and repar⯑tee paſſed between Miſs Freeman and her admirer, who ſeemed to think it in⯑cumbent on him to follow her lead, and ſhe was remarkable lively, even for her that you know is always ſo.

All of a ſudden, ſhe propoſed going to the Rotunda, which I readily aſſented to, thinking it more eligible than ſtaying at home; the evening was ſo fine, we agreed to walk, and I ordered the car⯑riage there at ten. It was very full, and [86]rather warm, ſo between the acts we walked in the garden; when we re⯑turned to the room, Miſs Freeman com⯑plained of fatigue and thirſt; the forms were all filled; but the gentlemen pro⯑poſed going into a receſs, and having coffee; which ſhe accepted, ſaying, ſhe was choaked with duſt, and we went into one that a ſet of company had juſt quitted. Coffee and ſeveral other refreſh⯑ments were ſoon brought, and we were ſitting making our obſervations on the variety of figures that were moving in a circle before us, when Miſs Freeman cried in a tone of aſtoniſhment, there is Mr. Skeffington; inſtantly he turned his head, and when he ſaw it was us, ſtepped in; I ſaid, I was ſurpriſed to meet him there, as I did not expect him to town; he anſwered, I am ſure you did not, and ſeemed to lay a particular emphaſis on his words; I hope, ſays I, nothing ex⯑traordinary has happened; yes, madam, ſaid he, ſomething very extraordinary.

I was ſilent, perceiving at once what he meant, though I could not conceive how he got intelligence of my being there: the gentlemen preſſed him to take coffee, but he declined, ſaying, he had ſome material buſineſs to tranſact, and had only called in to look for a per⯑ſon he had heard was there.

He caſt a look full of indignation at me, and bowing to the company, with⯑drew, leaving us all looking at each other, as if we did not know whether we ſhould take notice of his behaviour or not; till Miſs Freeman ſaid, laughing, ſhe thought we looked as if we had got an⯑ger, and were afraid to ſpeak.

To be ſure Mr. Skeffington's temper was much ruffled at ſomething, or he would not have behaved ſo odd: then turning to me, he will make an agreea⯑ble huſband, my dear, if he has frequent returns of thoſe humours.—I was con⯑fuſed at her directing the ſpeech to me, but anſwered, the woman would deſerve [88]to be unhappy, that knowingly ſubjected herſelf to ſuch caprice.

Mr. Hamilton, whom I ſaw, gueſſed he was the cauſe of what had paſſed, looked concerned and ſerious; but as for me, I was ſo full of reſentment, that it kept up my ſpirits, and I was deter⯑mined to ſpeak to him when I came home, and put a final end to the affair; for ſince he has no confidence in my af⯑fection, it is impoſſible we could be happy.

It ſeems he was of the ſame ſenti⯑ments, for he was gone before I came in. Kitty gave me a letter, ſaying, Mr. Skeffington left it for me, when he was going away.—Away where? ſhe an⯑ſwered to England, ma'am. I aſked no more queſtions, but came to my mother's chamber, who I found ſo chearful, that I knew ſhe had not heard of it; ſo I went to my dreſſing-room, (as if to undreſs) and there I read the letters. I immedi⯑ately ordered the carriage to go for you, [89]and then returned to my mother, and broke the matter to her as gently as I could, by telling her of the firſt com⯑mencement of Charles's jealouſy, which I never mentioned before, wiſhing to ſave her from uneaſineſs, and ſtill hoping a little reflection would cure him of that weakneſs; the hope I find was vain, ad⯑ed ſhe, ſighing, but my greateſt concern at preſent is, to ſee my mother ſo much afflicted by his ingratitude. She wanted me to ſend after him, as he could not have got down to the packet when I came home; but I begged her not to inſiſt on it, as I never would condeſcend ſo far, to a man, who upon ſuch ſlight foundation could ſuſpect my ſincerity; I ſaid, I thought her right, for it would probably be to no purpoſe, ſince he did not now ſeem capable of uſing his reaſon; it was therefore better to let him alone, till time and circumſtances might open his eyes to conviction.

Mrs. Fitzgerald agreed with me, ſaying, ſhe had not conſidered the matter properly at firſt. I aſked them [90]had they no ſuſpicion of the author of that letter? Eliza ſaid, ſhe had no doubt it was Miſs Freeman had it wrote; per⯑haps by her maid, but the words ſhe was ſure were her own, as the ſtile did not ſuit the writing and ſpelling, which were both of the vulgar kind. She ſaid, ſhe had not aſked any particulars about his going, but would call Kitty now, for ſhe had heard the chariot return ſince I came in.

When Kitty came, ſhe was aſked where John had left his maſter? ſhe an⯑ſwered, he had ſtaid to ſee him in the wherry, and the ſailors ſaid, the wind was ſo fair, he would be at the Head to breakfaſt. I then aſked her, what had paſſed before he left the houſe; ſhe ſaid, the ſervants told her, for ſhe was not be⯑low, that he came in ſoon after nine, which ſurpriſed them, as they did not expect him that night; he went to his ſtudy, and called for Will, who found him walking back and forward in great diſcompoſure; he took no notice of him for ſome minutes, then bid him pack up [91]all his things, with what haſte he cou'd, for he was ſetting off immediately for England; and Will, if you chuſe to come, you may pack up your own things too; but probably I ſhall not return theſe twoor three years, therefore take your choice. Will ſaid, to be ſure he would attend his honour, as long as he would give him leave, and went to do as he was ordered, but firſt ſtepped into the hall to tell the ſervants the news.

Mr. Skeffington came down in about half an hour; deſired one of the men to call me, and when I came, bid me de⯑liver that letter to my miſtreſs; ſhe then repeated what he had ſaid to her; ad⯑ding, he charged her not to mention his departure to his aunt; her young lady would tell it when ſhe returned. He left directions for Will to follow with the trunks, as ſoon as poſſible, and drove off, leaving them all in great conſternati⯑on; and for her, ſhe ſaid, ſhe had been crying almoſt ever ſince, for though ſhe did not know directly what the words meant, ſhe gueſſed ſome miſchief was [92]between him and her miſtreſs, and that he ſuſpected her to be the cauſe of it; Eliza bid her not be uneaſy, for ſhe was convinced of her innocence, and then diſmiſſed her.

We all retired to bed ſoon after, but I cannot ſay to reſt, for Eliza and I talked over the affair the remainder of the night, which was already far advanced; and I took care to place his treatment of her, in ſuch a light, as ſhould raiſe her reſent⯑ment, for I found her ſeveral times in⯑clined to melt into tears. We determined if Miſs Freeman came next day, to ſay Charles was gone to England on buſineſs of importance, and watch her looks and behaviour, to ſee if they would confirm our ſuſpicions, which in my opinion did not want confirmation, ſince it is impoſ⯑ſible any one but her could know Eliza, and Mr. Hamilton would be at the Ro⯑tunda together, as it was by her means the thing happened.

She came as we expected, in the fore⯑noon, juſt as ſprightly, and to all appear⯑ance as thoughtleſs as uſual; but ſhe is not what ſhe ſeems to be in that reſpect: ſhe had not ſat long before ſhe aſked for Charles; and Eliza made the anſwer we agreed on; ſhe looked aſtoniſhed; and exclaimed, to England! you quite ſur⯑priſe me. Why ſhould it ſurpriſe you, ſays I, that Mr. Skeffington, who has a large eſtate in England, ſhould have bu⯑ſineſs there? ſhe was diſconcerted at firſt, but recovered quick enough, and replied, becauſe ma'am, I thought a certain event, (looking towards Eliza) was to take place ſo ſoon, that he would defer every other buſineſs till that was over. Eliza bluſh⯑ed, and was ſilent; but I made anſwer, Miſs Fitzgerald was in no hurry about that affair. Here the ſubject dropped, and we talked of indifferent things till ſhe left us, which ſhe did very ſhortly, ſaying, ſhe had a hundred viſits to pay.

I went home to ſee Emily, and tell her what had happened, but returned again to ſtay the day with them; it paſſed [94]over very well, as ſeveral friends had called in to ſee Mrs. Fitzgerald, and the Miſs Boyle's came to tea; they always come early, ſo we had a good deal of time for chat; and I thought it beſt to tell them the real truth in regard to Char⯑les's ſudden departure, for it will be certainly talked of, and reſerve to them was unneceſſary. They immediately fixed on Miſs Freeman as the cauſe; and I found Mr. Hamilton had told them what paſſed at the gardens. We were ſtill talking it over, and had ſat down to tea, when Miſs Freeman arrived; ſhe told us, ſhe was come to take leave, for ſince ſhe ſaw us in the morning, ſhe had received a letter with ſome news, which made it neceſſary for her to go home di⯑rectly, and ſhe meant to ſail in the next packet; we all caſt a look at each other; and I ſaid, it was a ſudden call indeed, that put her in ſuch a hurry; ſhe made no reply to that, but chatted away in her uſual ſtile about two hours, and then took leave, making a profuſion of ac⯑knowlegements to Mrs. Fitzgerald, and Eliza, for the many civilities ſhe had re⯑ceived from them; which provoked me [95]ſo much, I could ſcarce forbear giving her a hint of my ſuſpicions; but I con⯑ſidered it beſt, to ſay nothing, as it could not anſwer any purpoſe, ſince ſhe certainly would not own it.

After ſhe was gone, we agreed there could be no doubt of what was taking her back; and I mentioned to the Boyle's what had been my opinion of her all along, and my reaſons for it.

Eliza ſaid, ſhe would never diſpute my penetration again; but ſhe had thought her too giddy to be ſo deſigning. I have wrote to Harry Maunſell an account of Mr. Skeffington's behaviour, and begged him to have a watch on Miſs Freeman, perhaps ſomething will come out that will be of uſe to us, for I think, if his eyes were effectually opened, by a diſco⯑very of her artifice, it would cure him of his foible, and they might yet be happy.

Mr. Hamilton's marriage with Miſs Boyle, when that takes place, muſt go a good way towards undeceiving him.

Mr. Fitzgerald does not abate the leaſt bit in his attention to our lovely widow, and ſhe receives them very gra⯑ciouſly.

When I freed my heart from its fond prepoſſeſſion, I thought I had done with love, and all its attendant perplexities, but I find I was miſtaken, for I am now as much affected with the ſoft diſtreſſes of my friends, as I could poſſibly be with my own; I think rather more ſo, becauſe if any of the follows took ſuch airs with me, I ſhould diſcard them at once, with⯑out a moment's pain. I wiſh I could in⯑ſpire Eliza with a little of my ſpirit, for it is ſuch tender ſouls as you and ſhe are, that make the men ſo ſaucy.

Do not call this a letter, it is quite a volume; by the time you have got through it, perhaps you may hear from me again.

The beſt wiſhes of your friends here, waits on the Compte, and your lady⯑ſhip. —None more ſincerely, than thoſe of my

LETTER XLIV. Mr. MAUNSELL, to Miſs MORTIMER.

I DEFERED acknowleging the receipt of my dear Miſs Mortimer's favour, till I could give ſome ſatisfactory account of my unhappy friend; unhappy I call him, though I think him blameable, but I muſt feel for him, ſince I too well know what he ſuffers, who loſes all hopes of being united to the object of his fondeſt wiſhes. But I forget myſelf, and am tranſgreſſing againſt your cruel com⯑mands, [99]not to mention that ſubject, which is, and will ever be neareſt my heart; yet ſurely Louiſa, you will par⯑don me, as you muſt at leaſt allow there is ſome merit in my endeavours to obey you, when I find the taſk is ſo difficult.

I was under the neceſſity of letting James into the whole ſecret, as I ſhould want his aſſiſtance, and have no doubt of his fidelity, I then gave him proper in⯑ſtructions, and ſent him to Jermyn⯑ſtreet, where he took a lodging, nearly oppoſite Mrs. Vernon's, ſo that he muſt ſee who went in and out there: it was in the evening, and as his landlady keeps a ſhop, he bought ſome tea, and begged leave to try it in her apartment, and ſent for cakes to treat her and the chil⯑dren; ſhe was much pleaſed with his ci⯑vility, which made her very communi⯑cative, and in the courſe of converſation ſhe gave him the hiſtory of every family in the ſtreet, and told him all the genteel female ſervants frequented her ſhop, and often made parties to drink tea there, and be merry, juſt to help her, becauſe [100]ſhe was a poor widow. James requeſted ſhe would introduce him to ſome of them, as opportunity offered, which ſhe promiſed; telling him, Miſs Vernon's maid was the prettieſt girl in the ſtreet, and ſhe would invite her next evening: it was the very thing he wanted; ſo giving her to underſtand, he would provide the entertainment; he took his leave, telling her he ſhould ſleep there next night, and came to inform me of his proceedings.

I was well pleaſed at ſuch a beginning, not doubting but he would ſo manage matters with the pretty damſel, as to get into the ſecrets of the young ladies, ſo far as would be uſeful to us. I ſent him next day, that he might watch if Mr. Skeffington went there, and told him I ſhould not expect to ſee him that night again.

Accordingly, he did not return till morning, when he informed me, he had the greateſt hopes of ſucceeding to my wiſhes; for the girl he had been intro⯑duced to, was ſiſter to Miſs Freeman's maid; that ſhe told him, that young lady had met with an accident by the overturning of the carriage, on her road from Ireland, which rendered her unable to travel, and her young lady was to go to her in a day or two, to ſtay with her till ſhe recovered.

Finding he was an Iriſhman, ſhe en⯑quired if he knew Mrs. Fitzgerald's fa⯑mily; being anſwered in the affirmative, ſhe aſked ſeveral queſtions about them and Charles in a manner that convinces him ſhe knows the whole affair.

I have therefore laid a plan by which I think we ſhall come at the truth.

James is a well-looking lad, and the girl ſeemed pleaſed with his company; by treating her with a little gallantry, it is [102]more than probable he will learn all ſhe can tell him. He is already become a favourite, and is frequently with her, for her miſtreſs is gone to attend her couſin, who ſtill remains too ill to be moved; and Mrs. Vernon has been out of town ſome time, by which means he'll have great opportunities of getting into her con⯑fidence.

As you gueſſed, Charles did not come near me, but I made private enquiries, and found he was at his houſe in Suſſex; however, I could get no knowlege of his intentions till yeſterday, James luckily met Will Lacky, who had been ſent to town on buſineſs; they were rejoiced to ſee each other, and ſtepped into a public houſe to take a glaſs; where William told him his maſter had ſome unfortunate miſunderſtanding with Miſs Fitzgerald, and had left Dublin in a huff, was de⯑termined not to return this long time, and was now preparing to go abroad, he believed to Germany, and from thence to Italy.

He lamented greatly what had happen⯑ed, ſaying, he was ſure the young miſ⯑treſs was not to blame, but his maſter would not hear reaſon.

James expreſſed his ſorrow on the oc⯑caſion, and having obtained a promiſe from Will to keep up a conſtant cor⯑reſpondence, they parted, and James came to tell what he had heard; and that he propoſed correſponding, that I might have always intelligence of Mr. Skeffing⯑ton's movements, which it ſeems he did not intend to make any of his friends ac⯑quainted with.

I approved what he had done, and commended him highly for his attention to the buſineſs.

I hope my proceedings will meet the approbation of my lovely Louiſa, and obtain her good opinion of one, at leaſt, [104]of that ſex, againſt which ſhe is ſo juſtly incenſed by the folly and ingratitude of another.

I ſincerely wiſh your fair friend had ſome ſhare of that fortitude of which you exhibit ſuch an example on all trying oc⯑caſions: indeed, I ſhould do well to wiſh for it myſelf too, ſince I have even more need of it than Miſs Fitzgerald; becauſe it is moſt likely reſentment will keep her from repining; but I have not that to ſupport me, and am, I think, more un⯑happy than if I had been ill uſed by the woman I adore.

Why will theſe ideas perpetually re⯑cur? I ſhall not fail to inform you of every thing material that paſſes, and have no doubt but matters will yet take a happy turn, if Mr. Hamilton marries Miſs Boyle. Sure that alone will be ſuf⯑ficient to convince Charles of his error.

I will not now give you room to laugh at me by repeating what you have alrea⯑dy anticipated; ſo ſhall only ſay, I wiſh you may ever retain that charming viva⯑city which ſo exceedingly becomes you.

LETTER XLV. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

TWO days after I wrote to my dear Miſs Mortimer, I received a ſhort letter from Mr. Skeffington, apologizing for not calling on me, as his mind was in too diſtracted a ſtate ſince he came to England, to make him a pleaſing com⯑panion to any one; before that would reach me, he ſaid, he ſhould have ſet off with an intention of quitting theſe king⯑doms, [107]till the memory of ſome late events, which no doubt I had heard of, were ſo far worn out, as to enable him to return to his own country with ſome degree of ſatisfaction, when he hoped we ſhould renew that friendſhip which had ever afforded him ſo much pleaſure.

James ſame time received a note from William, informing him, they were juſt ſetting out for Harwick, there to embark for Helvoetſluys; and promiſing to write to him from the firſt place, where he ſhould find they were likely to make any ſtay: if he keeps his word, we ſhall not be at a loſs where to find him; and as I am to go to France, I ſhall certainly make whatever place he is in my way, if he is not loſt to reaſon.

I have now ſuch a proof as muſt con⯑vince him the whole plan was laid by Miſs Freeman; but I think it beſt he ſhould ſuffer a-while; as the torments he feels from jealouſy, will, when he [108]finds how groundleſs it has been, be the moſt probable means of effecting his cure: and if Mr. Hamilton is married be⯑fore I leave England, it will be a ſtrong teſtimony in our favour.—But to the moſt material point; James conti⯑nued his viſits to Mrs. Betty, but quit his lodging, informing her, his maſter was returned from Ireland, where he had ſaid I went on buſineſs; and that he found I had heard ſomething very particular about Mr. Skeffington, who ſhe had been ſpeak⯑ing of, and who was his maſter's very particular friend.

This raiſed the girl's curioſity, and ſhe made it a point that he ſhould find out what it was; her young ladies were ex⯑pected in a few days, and I ſuppoſe ſhe was deſirous of having what intelligence ſhe could againſt they came.

James told me what had paſſed, and we agreed he ſhould not go to her for two or three days; he then paid his viſit with [109]a face of great concern, and when ſhe queſtioned him in regard to what he had heard from me, he evaded anſwering, and ſeemed unwilling to enter on the ſub⯑ject, which made her more anxious to know, till at length he ſuffered himſelf with great difficulty to be prevailed on to tell her, I had by ſome means diſco⯑vered that there was miſchief made be⯑tween Mr. Skeffington and the lady he was going to marry, by a ſcheme of Miſs Freeman's; that Mr. Skeffington was gone abroad in conſequence of it, but he found I was determined to lay the whole matter before Mrs. Vernon, and inſiſt on her uſing her authority with her daugh⯑ter, (who he knew was privy to the af⯑fair) to produce all her couſin's letters from Dublin, by which means he ſaid, I hoped to effect a reconciliation between the parties concerned; and concluded by ſaying, he flattered himſelf ſhe had no⯑thing to do in it, for if ſhe had, ſhe would certainly loſe her place, beſides being greatly expoſed, as they all would, who had entered into ſuch a wicked plot,

The girl was terrified, and ſaid it would be the ruin of both her and her young lady, if his maſter ſhould acquaint Mrs. Vernon of the affair; though ſhe de⯑clared, neither of them had any farther to do with it, than by knowing there was ſuch a plan, and how it was carried on; of which her ſiſter conſtantly inform⯑ed her by letter, as Miſs Freeman, ſhe was ſure, did her miſtreſs; for ſhe had often heard her wiſh, her couſin had ne⯑ver gone to Ireland, as ſhe feared it would have bad conſequences.

She then aſked him, could he think of any way to prevent his maſter telling Mrs. Vernon; for if it was done, ſhe did not ſee how either her miſtreſs or ſhe could ſtand the anger they would get for not diſcovering it at firſt; for her part, ſhe was determined to run away, though ſhe did not know where to go, ſince ſhe had neither father nor mother living, [111]and muſt earn her own bread; here ſhe cried bitterly, and James affected much uneaſineſs for her, ſhe preſſing him all the time to think of ſome expedient that would ſave them from being expoſed to the old lady's wrath.

After much pretended conſideration, he told her he had juſt thought of one, which if ſhe conſented to, he believed would not fail of ſatisfying me, as all I wanted was to lay open to Mr. Skeffing⯑ton and Miſs Fitzgerald, the art that had been uſed to ſeparate them, and if that could be done without applying to Mr. Vernon, he was ſure I would at once give that up.

She was earneſt to know what ſhe could to do; and he ſaid, if her ſiſter's letters to her contained ſufficient infor⯑mation, and that ſhe would part with them, he was certain he could prevent all farther enquiries, and perhaps obtain a reward for her beſides; as he could put [112]her behaviour in the beſt light to his maſter.

Betty who was moſt hearty, readily complied with his propoſal, making no other terms than thoſe, that he ſhould get my promiſe never to make the affair known to Mrs. Vernon; for ſhe was ſure them letters contained every thing I wiſhed to know, and ſhe believed more than Miſs Freeman's.

She delivered a parcel of letters to him, which he brought in triumph to me, mightily elated with his ſucceſs. I im⯑mediately ſat down to examine them, and found a long account of her miſtreſs's attachment to Mr. Skeffington, and her Intention to ſeize the firſt opportunity of creating a quarrel between, him and his intended bride; and ſays in one of them, ſhe had diſcovered by Miſs Fitzgerald's maid, that he had been jealous of a Mr. Hamilton; and her miſtreſs had given her a ſilk gown for the information: ſhe obſerves, the girl that told her meant no [113]harm; but ſhe was a ſimple innocent body, and was not aware of the conſe⯑quence.

The laſt letter is however the moſt material, as it contains the whole plan, which was to be put in execution the day after it was dated, and mentions her having wrote that note, dictated by her miſtreſs, that was to be deliver⯑ed to Mr. Skeffington juſt when he was going out of town.

The whole collection is wretchedly ſpelt and wrote, ſo that I could ſcarce decypher ſome of them; however as it was the ſame hand wrote the anony⯑mous note which Charles gave ſuch credit to, I think he muſt believe his own eyes when he compares them to⯑gether, for I hope that is not deſtroy⯑ed.

I ſent the girl a few guineas by James, and my promiſe not to mention the tranſaction except to thoſe it con⯑cerned; for I find by her ſiſter's letters, ſhe adviſed her not to have any thing to do with ſuch a wicked ſcheme, and had great ſcruples of conſcience about it.

The young ladies are come to Town, but Miſs Freeman is confined to her chamber after the journey: the hurt ſhe got was in her head, and the effect will not, (as the ſurgeons ſay) be ſpeedi⯑ly removed.

She ought to have remained where ſhe was, at leaſt a fortnight longer; but her impatience to get home in hopes of finding Charles, was ſo great, ſhe could not liſten to advice; and ſhe now makes herſelf worſe with fretting, leſt he ſhould go from England before ſhe is able to ſee him.

At preſent ſhe ſuppoſes he is in Suſ⯑ſex, as Betty tells James, and ſhe on her own account does not pretend to know any thing about him.

I am exceedingly happy in being able to dive ſo far into this contrivance, as will I think bring matters to a pleaſing concluſion between our friends, at leaſt, my endeavours ſhall not be wanting for ſuch a deſirable purpoſe.

I hope to be favoured with a line on the receipt of this; and am,

LETTER XLIV. MISS MORTIMER TO HENRY MAUNSELL, ESQ

I Cannot expreſs how much you have obliged me by intereſting yourſelf ſo heartily in the affair I mentioned to you; and Eliza to whom I communi⯑cated your ſucceſs, is quite aſhamed at the trouble you have had, attended with ſome expence; ſhe is however a good deal pleaſed that the truth will be [117]brought to light; for though ſhe has not now a thought of marrying Mr. Skeffington, ſhe wiſhes to be cleared of the imputation of jilting him; which ſhe looks on, (and ſo to be ſure does every one of common delicacy) as a moſt ſcan⯑dalous blot in a female character; in⯑deed I who know every ſecret of her heart, can venture to affirm ſhe never had the ſmalleſt tendency to any kind of levity.

The anonymous epiſtle is ſafe in my poſſeſſion; and you will ſhortly have the happineſs of receiving it from my fair hand—now I know you are overwhelmed with joy and ſurpriſe, and can ſcarce believe you have read it right; but you may, for ſo it is.

I have promiſed to accompany Mrs. Fitzgerald and Eliza to Montpellier; the late ſhock they received, has had a bad effect on their ſpirits, and I ad⯑viſed them to this jaunt, but they would [118]not go without me; ſo I have conſent⯑ed to be of the party; for beſide the pleaſure I ſhall have in being with them, I long to ſee Gertrude, and I know ſhe and her agreeable Count are now at Rouſſillon; I ſhall write by this poſt to inform her of our intention, and get her to ſecure accommodations for us in the town.

Now I mention that, will you be ſo good to take a lodging for us for a week, againſt we reach London, where we ſtop merely to reſt, for this is not a ſeaſon for making any ſtay there: two floors will do us.

We mean to ſet out in two days, and will go to you when we arrive, to know where you have fixed us.

But pray now moderate your tranſ⯑ports, when we meet; for poſitively thoſe raptures, which were pretty enough [119]when we were eighteen, are mighty ſilly at four-and-twenty.

Mr. Hamilton and Miſs Boyle are certainly to be married.—Farewell till I ſee you,

LETTER XLVII. MISS MORTIMER TO THE COMPTESSE ROUSSILLON.

I Believe my dear Gertrude will hear with pleaſure that I ſhall ſet out in two days from this date on my way to Montpellier, in company with Mrs. Fitzgerald and Eliza, whom I have pre⯑vailed on to take the journey, which [121]I hope will recruit both their health and ſpirits, at preſent very much affected by Mr. Skeffington's beha⯑viour.

I muſt trouble you to ſecure apart⯑ments for us in the moſt agreeable part of the town; our family will conſiſt of ourſelves, Eliza's waiting damſel, and mine, one man ſervant we take with us, and we muſt certainly get a French valet de chambre for the time we ſtay, ſo you will provide accommodations ac⯑cordingly.

Mrs. Fitzgerald does not take her woman, becauſe ſhe has her town houſe⯑keeper, and being a truſty body, can be depended on to take charge of every thing in the houſe, and the furni⯑ture you know is very valuable; therefore Eliza's maid is to ſupply her place.

I know you would wiſh to have us at the Chateau; but it will be more agree⯑able to Mrs. Fitzgerald to have a lodg⯑ing in the town; beſides there is too many of us to go to you, who are not in a houſe of your own; however, as we ſhall be ſo near you, we can be every day together.

Miſs Freeman was, as I ſuſpected, the author of all the diſturbances I men⯑tioned to you in my laſt: Harry Maun⯑ſell has letters in his poſſeſſion that prove it paſt contradiction; how he came by them is (in the language of auction bills) too tedious to inſert, as I have ſtill ſeveral little things to do pre⯑paratory to my journey; but the ſtory will ſerve us for converſation when we are traverſing the ſhady walks of Rouſ⯑ſillon together, which I hope we ſoon ſhall.

We mean to go through Holland, and make as little delay on the road as poſſible.

The firſt of Auguſt is fixed for the marriage of Mr. Hamilton and Miſs Boyle; they are to ſet off for Belle Park next day, where they make a ſhort ſtay, and then go to Hamilton Hall for the remainder of the ſummer, but will be in town every winter: he has taken an elegant houſe in Merrion⯑ſquare: they will be an amiable couple, and I am pleaſed on every account they are to be ſo ſoon married.

Mrs. Herbert informs me her ſiſter-in-law is juſt on the eve of matrimony with a young man of large fortune in that country; Patty is very happy on the occaſion, as ſhe feared her brother [124]would abſent himſelf a good deal from her houſe while Miſs Herbert remained ſingle; for as he knew her prepoſſeſſion in his favor, and could not return it, it certainly would not be agree⯑able to him to be much in her com⯑pany, and ſhe was frequently at her brother's.

Patty tells me Mr. Herbert is deter⯑mined to come to Dublin in about a year, their eldeſt girl will by that time want proper maſters, and he is ſo fond of her, he cannot bear ſending her to a boarding-ſchool, nor does ſhe much like that mode of education if it can be avoided; ſhe chuſes to have her daugh⯑ters under her own eye; but Mr. Herbert is ſo fond of the country, ſhe feared he would never conſent to liv⯑ing for any time in town; but to her great joy he made the propoſal himſelf.

they have got a large addition to their fortune by the death of a diſtant rela⯑tion.

How happy ſhall I be to have this dear companion of my childhood ſet⯑tled near me once more; for to be ſure, on the child's account, they'll ſtay in town at leaſt ſix or eight months in the year.

Emily left me yeſterday; ſhe is gone with her father and mother to the coun⯑try, but they will all return early in the winter: Mr. O'Neil has taken a houſe, ſo Mrs. Rochfort muſt be there when next ſhe comes to Dublin; but I fancy it won't be for any long time, as matters between her and Mr. Fitz⯑gerald are, I find, moſt likely to be concluded to the ſatisfaction of all par⯑ties, her father being quite content.

I have told you a deal of news, and reſerved as much more for our meeting.—Till then adieu,

LETTER XLVIII. MISS MORTIMER TO MRS. ROCHFORT.

AS I am perſuaded my dear Emily is anxious to hear of our ſafe arrival, I ſeize the firſt leiſure moment that has offered to inform you we per⯑formed our journey ſurpriſingly well, and Mrs. Fitzgerald bore it to a mira⯑cle, ſcarce complaining of fatigue till the laſt day or two: We made but three days ſtay in London, for as ſhe found herſelf quite able to proceed, [128]there was no occaſion for delay, nor did we ſtop longer than was neceſſary amongſt the high and mighty Lords, ſo could make no material obſervations on the people, except thoſe obvious ones of their cleanlineſs and induſtry, which are thread-bare themes, they have been ſo often expatiated on al⯑ready.

I think indeed they excel their En⯑gliſh neighbours in both thoſe quali⯑ties; as for the former, they are down⯑right ſlaves to it, ſince they debar them⯑ſelves the uſe of their rooms for fear of dirtying them; which is carrying the point to exceſs, and exceſſes even in virtue border on vice.

We have been here ſome days, and are ſettled very agreeably in the midſt too of acquaintances, for here are ſe⯑veral of our country people that we had ſome knowledge of, who paid us their compliments as ſoon as we were known [129]to be here, and we are now quite ſo⯑ciable.

Gertrude, though prepared by my letter to expect us, was very near faint⯑ing when we met, her joy ſo far over⯑came her. She is ſomewhat increaſed in ſize ſince you ſaw her, and is nearly as much aſhamed of it as if ſhe was not married; it is ſurpriſing that ſhe has not conquered her baſhfulneſs in this country, where I believe ſhe is herſelf the only example of it; but ſhe ſeems not one bit altered in that reſpect.

The Count's affection is, I think, rather warmer than before ſhe was his wife, and ſhe ſays all his family treat her with the greateſt tenderneſs, ſo that I have the ſatisfaction of ſeeing her happy; only ſhe now and then wiſhes to be in Ireland amongſt her own friends, but as ſhe will come over ſome times to ſee us all, and will alſo ſee many of them here at times, ſhe will [130]by degrees be reconciled to the neceſſi⯑ty of living in France.

Next to my own country it is the place I would chuſe; the diſpoſition of the people here being very like the Iriſh in kindneſs and attention to ſtrang⯑ers; and if their preſent Monarch goes on as he has begun, they bid fair to be reſtored to their natural rights, liberty I mean; for he is daily looſening the bands of oppreſſion and ſlavery; while our Rulers are only ſtudying how to rivet the chains with which they have been loading the people as long as I can remember.

Poor Eliza tries to be chearful, but her heart revolts againſt the attempt, and it does but make the ſettled languor that has overſpread her countenance more viſible; her forced ſmiles make my heart ach, and bring the tears into her mother's eyes, who anxiouſly watches every turn of her features.

I grieve that the dear girl cannot combat her tenderneſs for one who, I fear, would never make her happy, but I am not ſurprized at it, for in a temper ſo gentle as hers, that cannot long harbour reſentment, one might expect ill uſage would have juſt the effect it appears to have on her; you know it was what I feared, and was the the reaſon I wiſhed ſhe would change the ſcene; as every object at home would revive ſome idea it was neceſſa⯑ry ſhe ſhould forget.

I am in hopes that time, and the agreeable variety ſhe meets with here, will in ſome degree reſtore her peace.

The letters Mr. Maunſell has are exactly in the ſame hand as the anony⯑mous one ſent to Charles; therefore he muſt be convinced, when he ſees them; but unleſs it could make an abſolute change in his diſpoſition, I would never [132]adviſe her to marry him; for a jealous huſband would be miſery indeed.

Well, and how goes on your affair? Do you ſtill keep up that matronly gravity with which you uſed to receive Mr. Fitzgerald's attentions? for I dare ſay he has paid you a viſit in the coun⯑try before now; do tell me all about it, that I may amuſe Eliza with the reci⯑tal. —You ſhall hear ſoon from me again; mean time, believe me,

LETTER XLIX. THE SAME TO THE SAME.

I HAD the pleaſure of yours within theſe few days; and am much ob⯑liged to you for writing, without wait⯑ing to hear from me; there is how⯑ever a letter of mine on its way to you, which I ſuppoſe you will ſoon receive, and which contains an ac⯑count [134]of our health, and ſo forth, I am ſorry I cannot tell you that Eliza is better, but indeed I cannot as yet perceive the leaſt amendment, tho' I do not think ſhe is any thing worſe.

Mrs. Fitzgerald has received great benefit from the air and exerciſe ſhe takes here, if Eliza was well I believe her mother wou'd have no com⯑plaint.

I hope little Emily is quite reco⯑vered from the ſmall-pox, and con⯑gratulate you on her having it ſo fa⯑vourably, and while ſhe is ſo young; it is beſt early, let the event be what it will: for if they recover, there is a deal of anxiety over; but if it plea⯑ſes Heaven to take them, the affliction cannot be ſo heavy for an infant, as if they were taken from us at a later period of their lives.

I had yeſterday a letter from Henry Maunſell; he tells me Miſs Freeman's health is in a moſt dangerous ſtate; ſhe was pretty well, and ſent down to Suſſex to enquire about Charles, but when ſhe received for anſwer that he was gone abroad, diſappointment and vexation, threw her into violent hyſ⯑teric fits, which continued, with ſhort intermiſſions, for two days, and have left her ſo weak and low that the phi⯑ſicians apprehended a galloping con⯑ſumption will be the conſequence, as medicine ſeems to have little or no effect; to be ſure it cannot have much, as the cauſe of her diſorder lies in her mind, and not likely to be removed.

What a dreadful thing it is to be governed ſo abſolutely by our paſſi⯑ons; for it brings on the worſt kind of bodily complaints, which one would think ſufficient to deter people from giving the reigns to their headſtrong [136]inclinations, ſuppoſing they have no regard to religious precepts, which however ought to be the firſt motive with a chriſtian to correct the wild ſallies of an impetuous diſpoſition.

Nature had been liberal of her en⯑dowments to Miſs Freeman, both as to perſon and underſtanding, which had ſhe made a proper uſe of, would have enabled her to make a pleaſing, if not a ſhining figure, in life; but by forſaking the path of moral rec⯑titude, ſhe has loſt both her health and her peace; the gentle heart of Eliza is grieved for her, tho' ſhe is herſelf ſuffering from the unhappy girl's miſconduct.

You cannot form an idea of any thing more beautiful than the ſitua⯑tion and improvements of Rouſſillon; I think the very air that blows there inſpires one with the ſofteſt, moſt pleaſing ſerenity imaginable, and I am [137]not at all ſurpriſed that Gertrude ſhould learn to love, and even be prevailed on to acknowledge it, in theſe de⯑lightful bowers; for doubtleſs external objects operate powerfully on the diſ⯑poſition of the mind; eſpecially of Women.

Place a pair of lovers on a barren rock, the wind and ſea roaring round them, and I think the dreary proſ⯑pect would extinguiſh every wiſh but that of finding ſhelter from the jar⯑ring elements; at leaſt I will venture to anſwer for the damſel, that the tendereſt eloquence would be loſt on her in ſuch a place; but change the ſcene, and place them in a blooming arbour, a gentle rivulet murmuring by, and all nature ſmiling round them, there let him tell his ſoft tale, and I think he need not doubt a kind reception; for me, I am ſo convinced of it, that I am arming my heart with all its inſenſibility againſt Harry Maunſell comes; for I think it will [138]require no ſmall degree of ſtoiciſm, to remain unmoved by the ſoft lan⯑guage of his ſpeaking eyes, joined to the love-inſpiring ſcene around me.

I fear if I was not fully prepared for the danger, I ſhould, forgetful of my promiſe, and even of my own diſinclination to matrimony, ſtep to the next church and preſent him with my fair hand.

I think I hear you ſay, this girl's pen runs faſter than her wit; but conſider child, tho' I rattle a great deal, there is many a true word— pardon me, I had like to write a whole proverb, in defiance of Lord Cheſterfield.

The old Compte and Compteſe and their daughters arrived at the Chat⯑teau four days ſince; their ſon-in-law is to follow ſoon; they are moſt [139]agreeable people; as for Madame St. Variolle I am quite charmed with her; and delighted to ſee the tender friend⯑ſhip that ſubſiſts between her and Gertrude; ſhe is exceeding ſprightly, but does not give into the gallantry that is uſually practiſed here; I mean, ſhe does not encourage any particu⯑lar gentleman to attend her; as to the men in general, the cuſtom of the country permits a degree of fa⯑miliarity with them, that appears odd to us, whoſe manners are more reſerved; it would throw us into the utmoſt confuſion to have our male viſitors uſhered into our bedchambers before we were up, or to our toilet, while we were dreſſing: yet ſo powerful is cuſtom; it is done here without the leaſt idea of indelicacy by women who, I am convinced, are as perfect⯑ly virtuous as any woman in Ireland; and that I think is ſaying every thing for them: even amongſt thoſe married ladies who fall in with the faſhion of having a particular admirer, (which moſt of them do) I am ſatisfied the [140]greater number of them are as chaſte as Lucretiā.

I know ſeveral of them, who from the juſtneſs of their ſentiments, and the whole tenor of their conduct, I am perſuaded, would not deviate from the right path, in ſo material a point; be it as it may, they are more refined in their gallantry than the Engliſh ladies, who are groſs enough to ſtoop ſo low as their footmen and grooms, of which we have had ſeveral inſtances within theſe few years.

Gertrude cannot be brought to comply with any of the cuſtoms I have mentioned, and is a good deal rallied for her baſhfulneſs, even by the Compte: I dare ſay, ſhe will in a while admit gentlemen to her toi⯑let; it is almoſt impoſſible to avoid it, without being impolite and ſin⯑gular.

We have thoughts of taking a trip to Paris, that is Eliza and I, accom⯑panied by Gertrude and her Lord, and Madame St. Veriolle, who has invited us to her houſe, and was in⯑deed the firſt propoſer of the jaunt; I had it in contemplation before, as a thing that would amuſe Eliza, but had not mentioned it: ſhe ſeemed pleaſed when it was ſpoke of, and Mrs. Fitzgerald conſented at once; ſaying, ſhe could never want company, there were ſo many of our acquain⯑tances in town.

I fancy we ſhall ſet out in day or two; our ſtay will not be very long; ſo you need not expect to hear from me again, till after we return'; by that time, perhaps, I ſhall have ſome intereſting intelligence from Henry, who I imagine is ere now on his way to Geneva, where he was in⯑formed Charles meant to make ſome ſtay.

We are going to dine at Rouſſil⯑lon, and I am yet to dreſs; I ſhall therefore bid you farewell, for I muſt take a little more time than uſual, to make myſelf very lovely, as there are to be three or four young Dukes, and as many Marquiſſes (no⯑thing under to be met with here, who are all candidates for my fa⯑vour.

Do you know that I am the admiration of the French Men quite eclipſe Eliza, who is acknow⯑ledged to be infinitely handſomer; they ſay, if ſhe had Miſs Morti⯑mer's vivacity, ſhe would be but too charming; indeed I wiſh I could give her a little chearfulneſs; I would willingly ſhare my conqueſts with her, if that would blot Charles from her memory—but it will not be.

Compliments to Mr. and Mrs. O'Neil:—believe me,

LETTER L.

A Sudden illneſs which attacked Mrs. Fizgerald put a ſtop to our intended jaunt to Paris; for though ſhe was well again in two days, we would not venture to leave her, as from the ſymptoms we fear⯑ed it was the gout in her ſtomach, which might return, and we could not have enjoyed ourſelves under that [145]apprehenſion, if we were three hun⯑dred and fifty miles from her: we there⯑fore contented ourſelves with mak⯑ing ſhort excurſions of two or three leagues, and have viſited ſeveral of the nobility and gentry, who are re⯑lations or friends of the Rouſſillon fa⯑mily, and were every where received with that pleaſing attention and po⯑liteneſs, for which this nation is diſ⯑tinguiſhed, and which makes it ſuch an agreeable reſidence for ſtrangers.

The adjacent country is very de⯑lightful; but not near ſo populous as England or Ireland; it is impoſſible it ſhould, if we conſider the thou⯑ſands of both ſexes that are buried in Convents; beſides their clergy be⯑ing condemned to perpetual celi⯑bacy.

I will not diſpute about the piety of ſhutting up their youth from the world, though, in my opinion, our [146]duty to God does not conſiſt in ſe⯑cluding ourſelves from ſociety; but putting religion out of the queſtion, it is certainly the moſt impolitic cuſ⯑tom, that was ever allowed by any government, ſince it muſt depopu⯑late, and conſequently impoveriſh the country.

Spain and Portugal, where this reli⯑gious phrenzy is carried to the higheſt exceſs, are melancholy proofs of it, for at leaſt half of each kingdom lies un⯑cultivated and uninhabited, while their convents and monaſteries are crammed with people, who, were they exerciſing their different talents in the world, might be uſeful members of the com⯑munity.

France is not ſo bad in this reſpect, as there are ſome bounds ſet here to ſu⯑perſtition, and I think ſome limitation to the number of thoſe houſes; they begin to ſee how deſtructive theſe inſti⯑tutions [147]are to the proſperity of the king⯑dom in general.

I have given you a diſſertation upon Convents, as it is a ſubject England or Ireland does not afford us, and I thought you would expect ſomething new from France.

I have had a letter from Harry Maunſell; he is yet at Geneva, and ledged at the ſame houſe with Mr. Skeſſington.

The firſt night he arrived he ſtayed at the houſe where he ſet up; but you ſhall have it in his own words as fol⯑lows:

So far Harry Maunſell; you ſee I have given you the concluſion of his epiſtle, leaſt you ſhould imagine he was ſo ſtupid as not to be affected by our approaching meeting, or ſo impo⯑lite as not to tell me ſo:—Beſides, I know young widows like to hear ſoft nonſenſe, whether ſaid to themſelves or others; not but I ſuppoſe you have ſufficient entertainment of that ſort from your own ſwain, now that all impedi⯑ments are removed.

I charge you do not think of marry⯑ing till I return, for I intend the ſame day ſhall ſerve for you and Eliza, and then I can perform the part of bride-maid to you both; as I foreſee my me⯑diation will not be neceſſary to bring about a reconciliation in that quarter.

Harry knows little of the matter, if he thinks his friend has need of an ad⯑vocate; but I do not mean to tell him ſo; for it gives theſe men ſuch conſe⯑quence in their own eyes, when they find their influence is ſo powerful over our fond hearts.

Inſtead of pleading for the offender, I am endeavouring to fortify Eliza with reſolution to keep up ſome degree of dignity on their meeting, and to take at leaſt a few days before ſhe ſuffers herſelf to be perſuaded to ſign his abſo⯑lute pardon.

But I fear all my good leſſons will be forgot, when the loved youth appears; unleſs the ſenſe of his own demerits may make him too humble to aſk a compleat reſtoration to her favour.

Harry's letter threw her into the prettieſt agitation imaginable, when ſhe found they were coming to Montpel⯑lier; but the idea of Charles's ſuffer⯑ings melted her to tears; in ſhort, ſhe was quite fluttered, and affected a hun⯑dred different ways; but that I am not ſurprized at, for her mother was not much better, though the affection ſhe bears him is only that of a parent, while her daughter's are of a much ten⯑derer kind.

Her health mends apace, and her countenance begins to wear its uſual ſerenity; even the country ſeems to have new beauties for her; at leaſt ſhe [161]had hitherto paſſed them over unnotic⯑ed; ſo true is that line of the ſong,

Well, theſe ſenſitive plants may boaſt of their exquiſite feelings, but for me, I am content to be only moderately happy, on condition of never being ſupremely miſerable; and for that pur⯑poſe took pains to ſuppreſs thoſe violent ſenſibilities that would not be controuled by reaſon, and are therefore always dangerous, and frequently fatal, to the perſon who poſſeſſes them.

A letter from Harriet Boyle to Eliza, informs her of her ſiſter's nuptials with Mr. Hamilton; I wonder how Charles will look when he hears of it; for Har⯑ry does not ſay he had mentioned any thing of that to him.

Mrs. Fitzgerald begins to long for home; however we ſhall not leave this for ſome time yet; it would be fooliſh to make ſo ſhort a ſtay, after ſo long a journey.

I ſhall not write to you again till I can inform you how matters are accom⯑modated between Charles and Eliza.

LETTER LI. MISS MORTIMER TO MRS. ROCHFORT.

I AM ſure my dear Emily will be full of impatience to know how our lovers quarrel has ended; why, as all love quarrels do end; in an encreaſed affection for each other.

As I foretold, ſhe ſigned an act of oblivion, as ſoon as he could aſſume reſolution enough to aſk it, which was [164]not for two days, ſuch a juſt ſenſe had he of his high crimes and miſde⯑meanors.

I am provoked that ſhe could think more lightly of them than he did; I would have taken one little week's be⯑ſeeching, at leaſt, before I would have ſuffered myſelf to be prevailed on; a pardon ſo eaſily obtained may encou⯑rage him to farther tranſgreſſions; but Eliza has no art, and as her heart for⯑gave, ſhe could not keep her tongue from acknowledging it: to tell truth, I believe ſhe will have no cauſe to re⯑pent; for he ſeems ſo perfectly con⯑vinced of his fault, that I think it im⯑poſſible he can ever fall into it again— But I muſt tell you how matters were conducted to bring them together.

Harry never gave the ſmalleſt hint of our being here, and contrived not to come in till night, leaſt they ſhould by any accident meet us or our ſer⯑vants; [165]he then made ſome excuſe for going out, and came himſelf to inform me of their arrival.

Fortunately Eliza was in her mother's chamber; and it was agreed between him and me he ſhould bring Charles in the morning, as if to viſit a friend of his; and I was to prepare the ladies for the interview.

When he left me, which was not till I poſitively inſiſted on his going, I went to Mrs. Fitzgerald's room to commu⯑nicate the matter to them, having firſt bid Kitty withdraw; but I was ſoon obliged to recal her; for I had but juſt ſaid Mr. Maunſell was with me, when Eliza dropt on the floor in a fainting fit, which put us all into a hurry and confuſion for ſome minutes, when ſhe began to revive, and ſoon after, by proper applications, was perfectly re⯑covered.

Her ſpirits, which were always weak, have been ſtill weaker this while paſt, and ſunk under the ſudden mention of Harry's arrival, knowing who accom⯑panied him.

When we were once more left to ourſelves, I told her, if ſhe had not reſolution to ſupport the idea of ſeeing Mr. Skeffington, I feared ſhe would never ſtand a meeting next morning, ſo I had better write a note to forbid his coming, as ſuch another fit might have a bad effect on her health.

She begged I would not teaze her, but tell her was he really to come, ſince ſhe found ſome preparation would be neceſſary to enable her to receive him with any degree of compoſure.

I then informed her how we had ſet⯑tled it, and adviſed her to retire to reſt, [167]and try to conquer the flutter ſhe had thrown herſelf into, elſe Charles muſt have a phyſician for his gentleman-uſher; as I ſuppoſed his palpitations would be as great as her's, ſome of the faculty ſhould certainly be at hand to apply proper re⯑ſtoratives.

I was obliged to talk nonſenſe, to prevent her making ſuch a ſerious mat⯑ter of it, and when I had ſet her and her mother laughing, at the ridiculous deſcription of what I ſuppoſe their meet⯑ing would be, I bid them good night, and went to my bed, where I ſlept very comfortably, till diſturbed by Eliza, who, I dare ſay, had not cloſed her eyes.

I aroſe, and was but juſt dreſſed, when our French Valet informed me two gentlemen enquired for me.—I inſtantly went to them, and ſoon as I entered the room, Mr. Skeffigton ap⯑proached with a rueful countenance, [168]and with great humility kiſſing my hand, ſaid, will Miſs Mortimer receive a pe⯑nitent, and deign to intercede with her lovely friend for a man who has ſo high a ſenſe of his faults, that he is inca⯑pable of pleading his own cauſe!

I told him, ſmiling, his ſex were ſeldom ſo humble; therefore, as I lov⯑ed to encourage good diſpoſitions, and had beſide a proper ſtate of the caſe laid before me by Mr. Maunſell, I had ventured to become his advocate, and had ſo far ſucceeded, that his aunt and couſin had promiſed to receive him as a friend that had been abſent, without any retroſpect to former diſagreeable occurrences, which I believed it would be beſt not to mention as yet.

He was full of acknowledgments for my kindneſs; and I conducted him to his audience.

His colour went and came as he ap⯑proached, and his voice faultered ſo, he could not articulate a word, which Mrs. Fitzgerald obſerving, ſtept for⯑ward to meet him, and kindly taking his hand, ſaid, my dear child, I rejoice to ſee you, (indeed ſhe loves him as if he was he own) then turning to Eliza, will not you welcome your couſin my love? The dear girl, who was little leſs agitated than he, held out her hand, which he preſſed to his lips, and then ventured to ſalute her; while ſhe was utterly unable to ſpeak, as a tear ſtood trembling in her eye, which would have overflowed its bounds on the leaſt at⯑tempt at ſpeech: their ſilence however was ſufficiently eloquent, ſince it plain⯑ly diſcovered how their hearts ſtood affected to each other.

I thought it high time to put an end to the pantomine, which was likely to become too diſtreſſing, ſo hurried them into the breakfaſt room where Harry [170]was; who, advancing to pay his com⯑pliments, relieved them all from a very aukward ſituation.

The converſation then became gene⯑ral, till the gentlemen left us, to pay a viſit at Rouſſillon; being firſt invited to dinner by Mrs. Fitzgerald.

Harry told me after, he had inform⯑ed Mr. Skeffington, when he got him near our hotel, who he was to meet, and it was with the greateſt difficulty he could prevail on him to proceed; not till he aſſured him, I would intereſt myſelf in his favor, and knowing my influence over Eliza he had no doubt of my ſucceſs.

They continued on theſe terms for two days, not a hint of paſt tranſac⯑tions dropping from either party; when being all engaged to paſs the day at the Chateau, every one, as is uſual there, [171]diſpoſed of themſelves as they found moſt agreeable.

Eliza, it ſeems, had retired to that arbour, where the Compte firſt declar⯑ed his paſſion to Gertrude, and was followed by Charles, who had obſerved where ſhe went.

I alſo was ſtraying in the garden, and paſſing in ſight of the place; ſhe came out and joined me, not thinking I ſaw him there: but if I had not, the bluſh ſtill mantling on her cheek would have betrayed her: I juſt patted it ſay⯑ing, well Eliza, that bluſh is not for nothing; Charles has pleaded his cauſe more effectually than the ableſt ad⯑vocate could do; is it not ſo, ſhe ſaid, I was a provoking girl, and ſhe would not tell me; ſhe knew I would blame her, and ſhe could not help it now.

Indeed, Eliza, you wrong me; I ne⯑ver blame any one for conſulting their own happineſs; and I ſuppoſe, my dear, you are the beſt judge of what will con⯑ſtitute your's.

Fie Louiſa, ſaid ſhe; there is no ſtanding your looks, no more than your expreſſions, when you chuſe to be teiz⯑ing.—Juſt then, to her great relief, we were joined by Madame de St. Veriolle, which prevented our purſuing the ſubject.

I am ſure ſhe was heartily glad of the interruption, for I dare ſay, ſhe could not have brought herſelf to tell me, ſhe had conſented to give her hand to Charles as ſoon after our return to Ireland, as matters could be ſettled for the purpoſe; which I was informed of by Henry, the firſt opportunity he had of ſpeaking to me alone.

He was full of joy at his friend's ſucceſs; and aſked if Eliza had told me; no, I replied; but I knew ſome⯑thing of the kind had been the conſe⯑quence, when I ſaw ſhe had been with him in the arbour, for arbours are of all other places the moſt dangerous to female reſolution; he laughed at the idea; and claſping me to his boſom, wiſhed, if that was the caſe, he could find me in one.—When we get home, you will be all marrying and giving in marriage; I only ſhall remain in the ſingular caſe.

I don't however find myſelf a bit uneaſy at the reflection: the epithet of old maid, is not at all formidable to me; for as I at preſent meet as much reſpect as moſt of the matrons I know, I ſuppoſe that will not be leſſened, when encreaſe of years makes me wiſer and better than I am now.—I tell you, Emily, I ſhall retain my good humour, [174]when you and Eliza are fretting over your ſqualling Infants.

Charles means to ſet off in a few days, as he had a good deal of buſineſs to do, preparatory to making ſettle⯑ments, and ſo forth; and wiſhes to be in Dublin before November.

We ſhall remain here till the latter end of October, and Mr. Maunſell ſtays to be Eliza's Ceciſbo: as for me, I have about a dozen lively Frenchmen at command, amongſt whom I diſpenſe my ſmiles ſo equally, that one cannot be jealous of another, and I reign ſole Empreſs of them all.

Eliza's ideas are ſo totally engroſſed by one object that ſhe can find no amuſement in the agreeable gallantry ſhe would receive here, without their having the leaſt deſign on her heart; but ſhe would not take it on her con⯑ſcience [175]to encourage it, fearing leaſt any of them ſhould think her ſerious, and be hurt when he found ſhe was engaged.

I cannot perſwade her that thoſe things are mere matters of courſe here, and meant only as politeneſs; it is im⯑poſſible to argue her out of romantic notions.

Harry takes up his abode at Rouſ⯑ſillon as ſoon as Charles goes, accord⯑ing to invitation, the old Compte and Compteſſe return ſoon to Paris, and their ſon-in-law accompanies them: their daughter ſtays till Gertrude and her lord goes, which will be immedi⯑ately after we leave this; as ſhe would ſhortly be unfit for travelling.

You need not expect to hear from me again; for I do not intend writing any more while I am here: and I hope [176]to find you, and moſt of my friends, in Dublin, by the time I get there.

You are very idle, or rather you have more agreeable amuſement pour paſſer le tempts, their writing to me; I have had but one letter from you yet: Had I thought of that ſooner, I would not have ſaid a word about Charles and Eliza, and that would mortify you.

Perhaps you will ſay, it would be no loſs ſince I have ſo bad a hand at deſ⯑cribing love ſcenes; true, but I have given you the outlines, and as I dare ſay you are now pretty converſant in them, you may ſupply the deficiency by the power of your own imagination. —And ſo, in the true royal ſtile, we bid you

P. S. I forgot to tell you the news of Mr. Hamilton's marriage, which I took an opportunity to mention, ſeem⯑ed to ſtrike Charles with great ſurpriſe; and when I obſerved to him, it was a thing gueſſed at by moſt of their ac⯑quaintance, before he left Ireland; he looked in ſome confuſion, and ſaid, indeed, Miſs Mortimer, I think I was under infatuation, for many circum⯑ſtances now come into my mind, that might have convinced me it was ſo, if I had not been blinded by that unhap⯑py paſſion.—But I hope it is for the beſt; as the miſery I have endured, has moſt effectually cured me, and ſince my gentle Eliza pardons me, I am once more happy.

LETTER LII. MISS MORTIMER TO THE COMPTESSE DE ROUSILLON.

HERE we are, my dear Gertrude, after four months ramble, enjoy⯑ing ourſelves under our own vines, and under our own fig-trees: No, that will never do in a city.—But what is far more comfortable at this ſeaſon, and in our climate, we are ſnug at our [179]fire-ſides, talking over the pleaſing hours we ſpent with our kind friends at Rouſſillon.

As I wrote to you on our arrival at Harwick; I have taken a little time to reſt ſince I came home, before I would take up the pen again; for I aſſure you, our journey from London was very fatiguing and diſagreeable; the wea⯑ther being extremely ſevere; at leaſt we found it ſo, we had been ſo long uſed to the mild air of Montpellier, where none but gentle breezes fan the roſy bowers,

While we were in London, James brought us the account of Miſs Free⯑man's death—ſhe had languiſhed in a wretched ſtate, from the time ſhe heard that Charles was gone abroad, moſtly delirious, in which way ſhe died, a martyr to her own ungovernable paſ⯑ſions.

There is ſomething▪ ſhocking in a woman's ſo far departing from the de⯑licacy of her ſex, and all the rules of decorum, as this unhappy girl did, I think her friends may rejoice that ſhe is no more; for had ſhe lived, with ſo little regard to religion, or rectitude, as appeared in her conduct, it is more than probable, ſhe would have brought a reproach on herſelf and them.

I found Mr. and Mrs. Herbert in town, and all their little ones; they have five lovely children; and the beſt behaved babies I ever ſaw.

Their mother, without any harſhneſs, has let them ſee they muſt obey her, therefore it is a point they never diſ⯑pute, and a grave look from her, is more effectual, than correction from one who only indulges or chides her children rather according to her own caprice than their deſerts.

Mr. Herbert is very partial to his eldeſt girl, though Patty frequently re⯑monſtrates againſt it as unjuſt; and in her own behaviour, takes care to ſhew equal affection to them all, when they equally deſerve it, which prevents their little hearts from being filled with jealouſy and animoſity againſt each other.

You may gueſs how happy it makes me, to have Patty once more in the fame ſtreet with me, as ſhe now is we call to remembrance a thouſand plea⯑ſing circumſtances that occurred in our childiſh days, and enjoy over again our early friendſhip.

Harry, who tenderly loves his ſiſter, and has, as you know, ſome ſmall re⯑gard for your humble ſervant, is quite delighted to get us together, and joins in recollecting paſt pleaſures: but then he is too apt to dwell on thoſe inci⯑dents [182]that made the deepeſt impreſſion on his heart; however, his tranquillity ſeems reſtored, which adds much to my ſatisfaction.

It is quite diſtreſſing to ſee our friends repining at diſappointments that cannot be remedied; and refuſing the happi⯑neſs within their reach, becauſe ſome one thing they wiſh for is with-held; perhaps if it was granted, the acquiſi⯑tion might make them miſerable, a thing we have frequent examples of: yet we are not to be convinced that Pro⯑vidence is wiſer than we are.

Mrs. Rochfort is come to town with her father and mother; her marriage is fixed for the 16th; Eliza's the day after.

She inſiſted on Emily taking the lead, as ſhe was determined to be bride⯑maid; I would not ſay any thing againſt [183]it, becauſe I was glad to ſee her in ſuch good ſpirits; but I have a notion ſhe will repent placing herſelf in ſuch a con⯑ſpicuous light, the day before her own wedding. She muſt probably ſtand many jokes on the occaſion, but that to be ſure has never occurred to her.

She looks, and is as well as ever I ſaw her; the cauſe of her illneſs, which was uneaſineſs of mind, being remov⯑ed, the effect has ceaſed.

Mr. Skeffington has given James Grady fifty guineas as a reward for the part he took in bringing thoſe let⯑ters to light; and I find this en⯑creaſe of fortune has encouraged him to offer his hand to my Jenny; (his heart has long been her's) and Jenny has condeſcended to accept it, with my approbation.—You may be ſure I ſhall make ſome addition to her portion; and I aſſure you, ſhe has ſaved a good deal in my ſervice.

They mean to go into buſineſs, linen and haberdaſhery they have fixed on.

I ſhall certainly countenance them; for I think it but right to promote the in⯑tereſt of ſervants who have been honeſt and faithful; though I totally diſap⯑prove of making them confidants, or allowing them any influence over us: their education renders them unfit for adviſers, and we often ſee the bad ef⯑fects of young ladies placing confidence in their waiting-maids, who always en⯑courage them in whatever they know to be their inclination, as they are ſure of being rewarded for any aſſiſtance they lend; or even where they mean well, ignorance often leads them into errors; they do not foreſee the bad conſequences that may attend their re⯑peating what they hear, as was the caſe with Eliza's Kitty; for I am ſure the girl loves her miſtreſs; yet Charles in⯑cautiouſly betraying his temper to her, [185]was near proving fatal to the peace of the whole family.

Eliza has talked to her a great deal on the ſubject, and intimated an inten⯑tion of parting with her, leſt her in⯑diſcretion might hereafter create diſtur⯑bance; for as ſhe expoſed the only de⯑fect ſhe had diſcovered in Mr. Skeffing⯑ton's diſpoſition to a ſtranger, ſhe was no longer to be truſted.

Poor Kitty came in great woe, to requeſt my intereſt with her miſtreſs not to diſcharge her, promiſing never to commit ſuch a fault again; and ſhe is accordingly reinſtated in Eliza's fa⯑vour.

You ſhall hear from me when the weddings are over. I am anxiouſly ex⯑pecting an account of your being ſafe and well; faite me baiſemens a Monſieur La. Compte: and pray preſent my beſt [186]reſpects to all his agreeable family, par⯑ticularly his amiable ſiſter.

Your friends here joint in the moſt affectionate wiſhes for your health and happineſs, none more ſincerely than

LETTER LIII. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

At length, my dear Gertrude, Eli⯑za's novel is concluded, like moſt other novels, with the ſerious cataſtrophe, matrimony.

The ceremony was performed yeſter⯑day evening, in what we call a private [188]manner; that is, quite in the family way; but in ſuch a family as theirs, you know what a croud they make when gathered together on theſe oc⯑caſions.

Eliza did not behave quite as well as your ladyſhip in the ſame circum⯑ſtances; for it was with the utmoſt dif⯑ficulty ſhe could ſay, "I will" loud enough to be heard by the Clergyman, and as to the reſt, we could only per⯑ceive her lips moved to the words; the good man, however, who ſaw her heart was conſenting, took the will for the deed, elſe I think ſhe would ſtill have remained a maiden; indeed he eſpouſed the cauſe of his ſex ſo far, as to inſiſt on her pronouncing the word obey, pretty audibly: now had I been in her place, that of all words never ſhould have paſſed my lips; I whiſper⯑ed that to Harry firſt opportunity; he replied, ſmiling, he would venture to take me even on them terms, if I would ſay I loved: No, ſaid I, for if you [189]would diſpenſe with my promiſing obe⯑dience, I ſhould fear you meant to en⯑force the doctrine by ſome more power⯑ful argument: he called me ſome fond name, ſaying, he muſt be a brute in⯑deed that would deſire me to comply with any thing that was diſagreeable to me.

How mild and gentle thoſe men talk before marriage, and how ſoon they change their tone after; yet you can produce one that continues the ſame ſtile, and I have ſome little idea that Harry would have been like him.

I wiſh he could conquer an attach⯑ment that promiſes ſo little ſatisfaction; for I want to make up a match between him and Harriet Boyle, whoſe heart ſeems perfectly diſengaged, and ſhe has wholly laid aſide her affectation—but it is in vain to think of it, for he is quite determined.

How I wander from my ſubject: to return to it then—Charles's behaviour was tender and attentive, but delicate⯑ly ſo, endeavouring all he could to keep up her ſpirits, in which Harry and I aſſiſted him; for the reſt of the young folks were more inclined to amuſe themſelves at her expence.

Cards however relieved her from their raillery, beſide ſome ſhare of it was directed to Emily and her bride-groom, who, as I told you, were mar⯑ried the night before, and a good many of the ſame company had been at their wedding.

She too was much affected; though ſhe had gone through all the ceremony before; but her heart was now con⯑cerned, and ſhe was agitated by all the hopes and fears, ſo natural to thoſe who love.

Doubtleſs the unhappineſs ſhe had already experienced in the ſtate, muſt have cauſed ſome diſagreeable ſenſa⯑tions, when ſhe reflected on the poſſibi⯑lity of being again ſubject to the ſame, though there is all the reaſon in the world to believe ſhe has nothing of that kind to fear from her preſent choice, as there does not appear to be the leaſt defect in his temper, and ſhe, you know, is all ſweetneſs.

They are to accompany Charles and his bride to Caſtle Skeffington; as will all the bride men and maids; of which number are Mr. Maunſell, and your Louiſa.

We ſpend the chriſtmas there; then pay a viſit, by invitation, to Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, and return from thence to Dublin.

I forgot to tell you Mr. Fitzgerald looked a little cool on Charles when firſt they met, after our return from France, and not very cordial on Eliza; he was diſpleaſed with him for his be⯑haviour, and with her for not reſenting it; till I laid the true ſtate of the affair before him, which reconciled him to them both, elſe it might have had un⯑pleaſing conſequences, as he would have certainly told Mr. Skeffington his mind, who would probably have been too high ſpirited to enter into any ex⯑planation of the matter.

The prevalence of that moſt horrid cuſtom, duelling, makes one tremble at the proſpect of warm words between men.

Eliza, who obſerved her couſin's cool⯑neſs, was very apprehenſive, till I un⯑dertook to remove it: I was happpy in [193]ſucceeding; and they are now juſt as uſual.

We ſhall leave town, the 20th, do not expect another epiſtle till I come back; for I know we ſhall live in a perpetual hurry of company while we remain in the country; as all the peo⯑ple will croud to pay their compliments to the two new married couple.

Mrs. Fitzgerald is, I ſuppoſe, the happieſt creature now in the kingdom, in ſeeing her two darlings united, after the great danger there was of their be⯑ing ſeparated for ever.

She has forgot all her complaints, and is as young as any of us: I hope ſhe will long continue to enjoy her pre⯑ſent ſatisfaction, which nothing can add to, except living to ſee half a dozen grand-children playing about her.

I expect my next will be a congratu⯑lation on the birth of a little Monſieur or Madamoiſelle; be it which it will I beſeech you, Gertrude, do not dreſs it in the French ſtile till it's childiſh years are ſomewhat paſſed.

I think the children in France, ſo be powdered, and curled, have juſt the appearance of a race of dwarfs; do let yours look like infants while they are ſo; for you cannot make them like any thing half ſo pleaſing.

The time employed in writing this, I have ſtolen from the hours of reſt; finding it impoſſible to obtain a mo⯑ment for the purpoſe during the day, I am ſo entirely engaged with the wed⯑ding folks, who will not excuſe my ab⯑ſence.

They all deſire me to aſſure you and the Compte of their kindeſt regards.