No More Learning

Yours ever,

S. VERNON.





VIII


MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY


Churchhill.


My dear Mother,--You must not expect Reginald back again for some time.
He desires me to tell you that the present open weather induces him to
accept Mr. Vernon's invitation to prolong his stay in Sussex, that
they may have some hunting together. He means to send for his horses
immediately, and it is impossible to say when you may see him in Kent. I
will not disguise my sentiments on this change from you, my dear mother,
though I think you had better not communicate them to my father, whose
excessive anxiety about Reginald would subject him to an alarm which
might seriously affect his health and spirits. Lady Susan has certainly
contrived, in the space of a fortnight, to make my brother like her.
In short, I am persuaded that his continuing here beyond the time
originally fixed for his return is occasioned as much by a degree of
fascination towards her, as by the wish of hunting with Mr. Vernon, and
of course I cannot receive that pleasure from the length of his visit
which my brother's company would otherwise give me. I am, indeed,
provoked at the artifice of this unprincipled woman; what stronger
proof of her dangerous abilities can be given than this perversion of
Reginald's judgment, which when he entered the house was so decidedly
against her! In his last letter he actually gave me some particulars of
her behaviour at Langford, such as he received from a gentleman who knew
her perfectly well, which, if true, must raise abhorrence against her,
and which Reginald himself was entirely disposed to credit. His opinion
of her, I am sure, was as low as of any woman in England; and when he
first came it was evident that he considered her as one entitled neither
to delicacy nor respect, and that he felt she would be delighted with
the attentions of any man inclined to flirt with her. Her behaviour, I
confess, has been calculated to do away with such an idea; I have
not detected the smallest impropriety in it--nothing of vanity, of
pretension, of levity; and she is altogether so attractive that I should
not wonder at his being delighted with her, had he known nothing of her
previous to this personal acquaintance; but, against reason, against
conviction, to be so well pleased with her, as I am sure he is, does
really astonish me. His admiration was at first very strong, but no more
than was natural, and I did not wonder at his being much struck by the
gentleness and delicacy of her manners; but when he has mentioned her of
late it has been in terms of more extraordinary praise; and yesterday he
actually said that he could not be surprised at any effect produced
on the heart of man by such loveliness and such abilities; and when I
lamented, in reply, the badness of her disposition, he observed that
whatever might have been her errors they were to be imputed to her
neglected education and early marriage, and that she was altogether a
wonderful woman. This tendency to excuse her conduct or to forget it, in
the warmth of admiration, vexes me; and if I did not know that Reginald
is too much at home at Churchhill to need an invitation for lengthening
his visit, I should regret Mr. Vernon's giving him any. Lady Susan's
intentions are of course those of absolute coquetry, or a desire
of universal admiration; I cannot for a moment imagine that she has
anything more serious in view; but it mortifies me to see a young man of
Reginald's sense duped by her at all.

I am, &c. ,

CATHERINE VERNON.





IX


MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY S. VERNON


Edward Street.


My dearest Friend,--I congratulate you on Mr. De Courcy's arrival, and
I advise you by all means to marry him; his father's estate is, we know,
considerable, and I believe certainly entailed. Sir Reginald is very
infirm, and not likely to stand in your way long. I hear the young man
well spoken of; and though no one can really deserve you, my dearest
Susan, Mr. De Courcy may be worth having. Mainwaring will storm of
course, but you easily pacify him; besides, the most scrupulous point of
honour could not require you to wait for HIS emancipation. I have seen
Sir James; he came to town for a few days last week, and called several
times in Edward Street. I talked to him about you and your daughter, and
he is so far from having forgotten you, that I am sure he would marry
either of you with pleasure. I gave him hopes of Frederica's relenting,
and told him a great deal of her improvements. I scolded him for making
love to Maria Mainwaring; he protested that he had been only in joke,
and we both laughed heartily at her disappointment; and, in short, were
very agreeable. He is as silly as ever.

Yours faithfully,

ALICIA.





X


LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MRS. JOHNSON


Churchhill.


I am much obliged to you, my dear Friend, for your advice respecting
Mr. De Courcy, which I know was given with the full conviction of its
expediency, though I am not quite determined on following it. I cannot
easily resolve on anything so serious as marriage; especially as I
am not at present in want of money, and might perhaps, till the old
gentleman's death, be very little benefited by the match. It is true
that I am vain enough to believe it within my reach. I have made him
sensible of my power, and can now enjoy the pleasure of triumphing
over a mind prepared to dislike me, and prejudiced against all my
past actions. His sister, too, is, I hope, convinced how little the
ungenerous representations of anyone to the disadvantage of another will
avail when opposed by the immediate influence of intellect and manner. I
see plainly that she is uneasy at my progress in the good opinion of
her brother, and conclude that nothing will be wanting on her part to
counteract me; but having once made him doubt the justice of her opinion
of me, I think I may defy her. It has been delightful to me to watch
his advances towards intimacy, especially to observe his altered manner
in consequence of my repressing by the cool dignity of my deportment
his insolent approach to direct familiarity. My conduct has been equally
guarded from the first, and I never behaved less like a coquette in the
whole course of my life, though perhaps my desire of dominion was never
more decided. I have subdued him entirely by sentiment and serious
conversation, and made him, I may venture to say, at least half in love
with me, without the semblance of the most commonplace flirtation. Mrs.
Vernon's consciousness of deserving every sort of revenge that it can
be in my power to inflict for her ill-offices could alone enable her
to perceive that I am actuated by any design in behaviour so gentle
and unpretending. Let her think and act as she chooses, however. I have
never yet found that the advice of a sister could prevent a young
man's being in love if he chose. We are advancing now to some kind of
confidence, and in short are likely to be engaged in a sort of platonic
friendship. On my side you may be sure of its never being more, for if
I were not attached to another person as much as I can be to anyone, I
should make a point of not bestowing my affection on a man who had dared
to think so meanly of me. Reginald has a good figure and is not unworthy
the praise you have heard given him, but is still greatly inferior
to our friend at Langford. He is less polished, less insinuating than
Mainwaring, and is comparatively deficient in the power of saying those
delightful things which put one in good humour with oneself and all the
world. He is quite agreeable enough, however, to afford me amusement,
and to make many of those hours pass very pleasantly which would
otherwise be spent in endeavouring to overcome my sister-in-law's
reserve, and listening to the insipid talk of her husband. Your account
of Sir James is most satisfactory, and I mean to give Miss Frederica a
hint of my intentions very soon.

Yours, &c. ,

S. VERNON.





XI


MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY


Churchhill


I really grow quite uneasy, my dearest mother, about Reginald, from
witnessing the very rapid increase of Lady Susan's influence. They are
now on terms of the most particular friendship, frequently engaged in
long conversations together; and she has contrived by the most artful
coquetry to subdue his judgment to her own purposes. It is impossible
to see the intimacy between them so very soon established without some
alarm, though I can hardly suppose that Lady Susan's plans extend to
marriage. I wish you could get Reginald home again on any plausible
pretence; he is not at all disposed to leave us, and I have given him as
many hints of my father's precarious state of health as common decency
will allow me to do in my own house. Her power over him must now be
boundless, as she has entirely effaced all his former ill-opinion,
and persuaded him not merely to forget but to justify her conduct. Mr.
Smith's account of her proceedings at Langford, where he accused her of
having made Mr. Mainwaring and a young man engaged to Miss Mainwaring
distractedly in love with her, which Reginald firmly believed when he
came here, is now, he is persuaded, only a scandalous invention. He
has told me so with a warmth of manner which spoke his regret at having
believed the contrary himself. How sincerely do I grieve that she
ever entered this house! I always looked forward to her coming with
uneasiness; but very far was it from originating in anxiety for
Reginald. I expected a most disagreeable companion for myself, but could
not imagine that my brother would be in the smallest danger of being
captivated by a woman with whose principles he was so well acquainted,
and whose character he so heartily despised. If you can get him away it
will be a good thing.

Yours, &c. ,

CATHERINE VERNON.





XII


SIR REGINALD DE COURCY TO HIS SON


Parklands.


I know that young men in general do not admit of any enquiry even from
their nearest relations into affairs of the heart, but I hope, my dear
Reginald, that you will be superior to such as allow nothing for a
father's anxiety, and think themselves privileged to refuse him their
confidence and slight his advice. You must be sensible that as an only
son, and the representative of an ancient family, your conduct in life
is most interesting to your connections; and in the very important
concern of marriage especially, there is everything at stake--your own
happiness, that of your parents, and the credit of your name. I do not
suppose that you would deliberately form an absolute engagement of that
nature without acquainting your mother and myself, or at least, without
being convinced that we should approve of your choice; but I cannot help
fearing that you may be drawn in, by the lady who has lately attached
you, to a marriage which the whole of your family, far and near, must
highly reprobate. Lady Susan's age is itself a material objection, but
her want of character is one so much more serious, that the difference
of even twelve years becomes in comparison of small amount. Were you not
blinded by a sort of fascination, it would be ridiculous in me to repeat
the instances of great misconduct on her side so very generally known.

Her neglect of her husband, her encouragement of other men, her
extravagance and dissipation, were so gross and notorious that no one
could be ignorant of them at the time, nor can now have forgotten them.
To our family she has always been represented in softened colours by
the benevolence of Mr. Charles Vernon, and yet, in spite of his generous
endeavours to excuse her, we know that she did, from the most selfish
motives, take all possible pains to prevent his marriage with Catherine.

My years and increasing infirmities make me very desirous of seeing you
settled in the world. To the fortune of a wife, the goodness of my own
will make me indifferent, but her family and character must be equally
unexceptionable. When your choice is fixed so that no objection can be
made to it, then I can promise you a ready and cheerful consent; but it
is my duty to oppose a match which deep art only could render possible,
and must in the end make wretched. It is possible her behaviour may
arise only from vanity, or the wish of gaining the admiration of a man
whom she must imagine to be particularly prejudiced against her; but it
is more likely that she should aim at something further. She is poor,
and may naturally seek an alliance which must be advantageous to
herself; you know your own rights, and that it is out of my power to
prevent your inheriting the family estate. My ability of distressing
you during my life would be a species of revenge to which I could hardly
stoop under any circumstances.

I honestly tell you my sentiments and intentions: I do not wish to work
on your fears, but on your sense and affection. It would destroy every
comfort of my life to know that you were married to Lady Susan Vernon;
it would be the death of that honest pride with which I have hitherto
considered my son; I should blush to see him, to hear of him, to think
of him. I may perhaps do no good but that of relieving my own mind by
this letter, but I felt it my duty to tell you that your partiality for
Lady Susan is no secret to your friends, and to warn you against her.
I should be glad to hear your reasons for disbelieving Mr. Smith's
intelligence; you had no doubt of its authenticity a month ago. If
you can give me your assurance of having no design beyond enjoying
the conversation of a clever woman for a short period, and of yielding
admiration only to her beauty and abilities, without being blinded by
them to her faults, you will restore me to happiness; but, if you cannot
do this, explain to me, at least, what has occasioned so great an
alteration in your opinion of her.

I am, &c. , &c,

REGINALD DE COURCY





XIII


LADY DE COURCY TO MRS. VERNON


Parklands.


My dear Catherine,--Unluckily I was confined to my room when your last
letter came, by a cold which affected my eyes so much as to prevent my
reading it myself, so I could not refuse your father when he offered
to read it to me, by which means he became acquainted, to my great
vexation, with all your fears about your brother. I had intended to
write to Reginald myself as soon as my eyes would let me, to point out,
as well as I could, the danger of an intimate acquaintance, with so
artful a woman as Lady Susan, to a young man of his age, and high
expectations. I meant, moreover, to have reminded him of our being quite
alone now, and very much in need of him to keep up our spirits these
long winter evenings. Whether it would have done any good can never be
settled now, but I am excessively vexed that Sir Reginald should know
anything of a matter which we foresaw would make him so uneasy. He
caught all your fears the moment he had read your letter, and I am sure
he has not had the business out of his head since. He wrote by the same
post to Reginald a long letter full of it all, and particularly asking
an explanation of what he may have heard from Lady Susan to contradict
the late shocking reports. His answer came this morning, which I shall
enclose to you, as I think you will like to see it. I wish it was more
satisfactory; but it seems written with such a determination to think
well of Lady Susan, that his assurances as to marriage, &c. , do not set
my heart at ease. I say all I can, however, to satisfy your father, and
he is certainly less uneasy since Reginald's letter. How provoking it
is, my dear Catherine, that this unwelcome guest of yours should not
only prevent our meeting this Christmas, but be the occasion of so much
vexation and trouble! Kiss the dear children for me.

Your affectionate mother,

C. DE COURCY.





XIV


MR. DE COURCY TO SIR REGINALD


Churchhill.


My dear Sir,--I have this moment received your letter, which has given
me more astonishment than I ever felt before. I am to thank my sister,
I suppose, for having represented me in such a light as to injure me
in your opinion, and give you all this alarm. I know not why she should
choose to make herself and her family uneasy by apprehending an
event which no one but herself, I can affirm, would ever have thought
possible. To impute such a design to Lady Susan would be taking from her
every claim to that excellent understanding which her bitterest enemies
have never denied her; and equally low must sink my pretensions to
common sense if I am suspected of matrimonial views in my behaviour
to her. Our difference of age must be an insuperable objection, and I
entreat you, my dear father, to quiet your mind, and no longer harbour
a suspicion which cannot be more injurious to your own peace than to our
understandings. I can have no other view in remaining with Lady Susan,
than to enjoy for a short time (as you have yourself expressed it) the
conversation of a woman of high intellectual powers. If Mrs. Vernon
would allow something to my affection for herself and her husband in the
length of my visit, she would do more justice to us all; but my sister
is unhappily prejudiced beyond the hope of conviction against Lady
Susan. From an attachment to her husband, which in itself does honour to
both, she cannot forgive the endeavours at preventing their union, which
have been attributed to selfishness in Lady Susan; but in this case, as
well as in many others, the world has most grossly injured that lady, by
supposing the worst where the motives of her conduct have been doubtful.
Lady Susan had heard something so materially to the disadvantage of my
sister as to persuade her that the happiness of Mr. Vernon, to whom she
was always much attached, would be wholly destroyed by the marriage. And
this circumstance, while it explains the true motives of Lady Susan's
conduct, and removes all the blame which has been so lavished on her,
may also convince us how little the general report of anyone ought to
be credited; since no character, however upright, can escape the
malevolence of slander. If my sister, in the security of retirement,
with as little opportunity as inclination to do evil, could not avoid
censure, we must not rashly condemn those who, living in the world and
surrounded with temptations, should be accused of errors which they are
known to have the power of committing.

I blame myself severely for having so easily believed the slanderous
tales invented by Charles Smith to the prejudice of Lady Susan, as I
am now convinced how greatly they have traduced her. As to Mrs.
Mainwaring's jealousy it was totally his own invention, and his account
of her attaching Miss Mainwaring's lover was scarcely better founded.
Sir James Martin had been drawn in by that young lady to pay her some
attention; and as he is a man of fortune, it was easy to see HER views
extended to marriage. It is well known that Miss M. is absolutely on the
catch for a husband, and no one therefore can pity her for losing, by
the superior attractions of another woman, the chance of being able to
make a worthy man completely wretched. Lady Susan was far from intending
such a conquest, and on finding how warmly Miss Mainwaring resented her
lover's defection, determined, in spite of Mr. and Mrs. Mainwaring's
most urgent entreaties, to leave the family. I have reason to imagine
she did receive serious proposals from Sir James, but her removing to
Langford immediately on the discovery of his attachment, must acquit her
on that article with any mind of common candour. You will, I am sure, my
dear Sir, feel the truth of this, and will hereby learn to do justice to
the character of a very injured woman. I know that Lady Susan in coming
to Churchhill was governed only by the most honourable and amiable
intentions; her prudence and economy are exemplary, her regard for Mr.
Vernon equal even to HIS deserts; and her wish of obtaining my sister's
good opinion merits a better return than it has received. As a mother
she is unexceptionable; her solid affection for her child is shown by
placing her in hands where her education will be properly attended to;
but because she has not the blind and weak partiality of most mothers,
she is accused of wanting maternal tenderness. Every person of sense,
however, will know how to value and commend her well-directed affection,
and will join me in wishing that Frederica Vernon may prove more worthy
than she has yet done of her mother's tender care. I have now, my dear
father, written my real sentiments of Lady Susan; you will know from
this letter how highly I admire her abilities, and esteem her character;
but if you are not equally convinced by my full and solemn assurance
that your fears have been most idly created, you will deeply mortify and
distress me.

I am, &c. , &c. ,

R. DE COURCY.





XV


MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY


Churchhill


My dear Mother,--I return you Reginald's letter, and rejoice with all
my heart that my father is made easy by it: tell him so, with my
congratulations; but, between ourselves, I must own it has only
convinced ME of my brother's having no PRESENT intention of marrying
Lady Susan, not that he is in no danger of doing so three months hence.
He gives a very plausible account of her behaviour at Langford; I wish
it may be true, but his intelligence must come from herself, and I
am less disposed to believe it than to lament the degree of intimacy
subsisting between them, implied by the discussion of such a subject. I
am sorry to have incurred his displeasure, but can expect nothing better
while he is so very eager in Lady Susan's justification. He is very
severe against me indeed, and yet I hope I have not been hasty in
my judgment of her. Poor woman! though I have reasons enough for
my dislike, I cannot help pitying her at present, as she is in real
distress, and with too much cause. She had this morning a letter from
the lady with whom she has placed her daughter, to request that Miss
Vernon might be immediately removed, as she had been detected in an
attempt to run away. Why, or whither she intended to go, does not
appear; but, as her situation seems to have been unexceptionable, it is
a sad thing, and of course highly distressing to Lady Susan. Frederica
must be as much as sixteen, and ought to know better; but from what
her mother insinuates, I am afraid she is a perverse girl. She has
been sadly neglected, however, and her mother ought to remember it. Mr.
Vernon set off for London as soon as she had determined what should be
done. He is, if possible, to prevail on Miss Summers to let Frederica
continue with her; and if he cannot succeed, to bring her to Churchhill
for the present, till some other situation can be found for her.
Her ladyship is comforting herself meanwhile by strolling along the
shrubbery with Reginald, calling forth all his tender feelings, I
suppose, on this distressing occasion. She has been talking a great deal
about it to me. She talks vastly well; I am afraid of being ungenerous,
or I should say, TOO well to feel so very deeply; but I will not look
for her faults; she may be Reginald's wife! Heaven forbid it! but why
should I be quicker-sighted than anyone else? Mr. Vernon declares that
he never saw deeper distress than hers, on the receipt of the letter;
and is his judgment inferior to mine? She was very unwilling that
Frederica should be allowed to come to Churchhill, and justly enough, as
it seems a sort of reward to behaviour deserving very differently; but
it was impossible to take her anywhere else, and she is not to remain
here long. "It will be absolutely necessary," said she, "as you, my dear
sister, must be sensible, to treat my daughter with some severity while
she is here; a most painful necessity, but I will ENDEAVOUR to submit to
it. I am afraid I have often been too indulgent, but my poor Frederica's
temper could never bear opposition well: you must support and encourage
me; you must urge the necessity of reproof if you see me too lenient. "
All this sounds very reasonable. Reginald is so incensed against the
poor silly girl. Surely it is not to Lady Susan's credit that he should
be so bitter against her daughter; his idea of her must be drawn from
the mother's description. Well, whatever may be his fate, we have the
comfort of knowing that we have done our utmost to save him. We must
commit the event to a higher power.

Yours ever, &c. ,

CATHERINE VERNON.





XVI


LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON


Churchhill.


Never, my dearest Alicia, was I so provoked in my life as by a letter
this morning from Miss Summers. That horrid girl of mine has been trying
to run away. I had not a notion of her being such a little devil before,
she seemed to have all the Vernon milkiness; but on receiving the letter
in which I declared my intention about Sir James, she actually attempted
to elope; at least, I cannot otherwise account for her doing it. She
meant, I suppose, to go to the Clarkes in Staffordshire, for she has no
other acquaintances. But she shall be punished, she shall have him. I
have sent Charles to town to make matters up if he can, for I do not
by any means want her here. If Miss Summers will not keep her, you must
find me out another school, unless we can get her married immediately.
Miss S. writes word that she could not get the young lady to assign
any cause for her extraordinary conduct, which confirms me in my own
previous explanation of it. Frederica is too shy, I think, and too much
in awe of me to tell tales, but if the mildness of her uncle should get
anything out of her, I am not afraid. I trust I shall be able to make my
story as good as hers. If I am vain of anything, it is of my eloquence.
Consideration and esteem as surely follow command of language as
admiration waits on beauty, and here I have opportunity enough for the
exercise of my talent, as the chief of my time is spent in conversation.

Reginald is never easy unless we are by ourselves, and when the weather
is tolerable, we pace the shrubbery for hours together. I like him on
the whole very well; he is clever and has a good deal to say, but he
is sometimes impertinent and troublesome. There is a sort of ridiculous
delicacy about him which requires the fullest explanation of whatever he
may have heard to my disadvantage, and is never satisfied till he thinks
he has ascertained the beginning and end of everything.
This is one sort
of love, but I confess it does not particularly recommend itself to me.
I infinitely prefer the tender and liberal spirit of Mainwaring, which,
impressed with the deepest conviction of my merit, is satisfied that
whatever I do must be right; and look with a degree of contempt on
the inquisitive and doubtful fancies of that heart which seems always
debating on the reasonableness of its emotions. Mainwaring is indeed,
beyond all compare, superior to Reginald--superior in everything but the
power of being with me! Poor fellow! he is much distracted by jealousy,
which I am not sorry for, as I know no better support of love. He has
been teazing me to allow of his coming into this country, and lodging
somewhere near INCOG. ; but I forbade everything of the kind. Those women
are inexcusable who forget what is due to themselves, and the opinion of
the world.

Yours ever, S. VERNON.





XVII


MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY


Churchhill.


My dear Mother,--Mr. Vernon returned on Thursday night, bringing his
niece with him. Lady Susan had received a line from him by that day's
post, informing her that Miss Summers had absolutely refused to allow of
Miss Vernon's continuance in her academy; we were therefore prepared for
her arrival, and expected them impatiently the whole evening. They came
while we were at tea, and I never saw any creature look so frightened as
Frederica when she entered the room. Lady Susan, who had been shedding
tears before, and showing great agitation at the idea of the meeting,
received her with perfect self-command, and without betraying the
least tenderness of spirit. She hardly spoke to her, and on Frederica's
bursting into tears as soon as we were seated, took her out of the room,
and did not return for some time. When she did, her eyes looked very red
and she was as much agitated as before. We saw no more of her daughter.
Poor Reginald was beyond measure concerned to see his fair friend in
such distress, and watched her with so much tender solicitude, that I,
who occasionally caught her observing his countenance with exultation,
was quite out of patience. This pathetic representation lasted the whole
evening, and so ostentatious and artful a display has entirely convinced
me that she did in fact feel nothing. I am more angry with her than ever
since I have seen her daughter; the poor girl looks so unhappy that my
heart aches for her. Lady Susan is surely too severe, for Frederica
does not seem to have the sort of temper to make severity necessary.
She looks perfectly timid, dejected, and penitent. She is very
pretty, though not so handsome as her mother, nor at all like her. Her
complexion is delicate, but neither so fair nor so blooming as Lady
Susan's, and she has quite the Vernon cast of countenance, the oval face
and mild dark eyes, and there is peculiar sweetness in her look when she
speaks either to her uncle or me, for as we behave kindly to her we have
of course engaged her gratitude.

Her mother has insinuated that her temper is intractable, but I never
saw a face less indicative of any evil disposition than hers; and from
what I can see of the behaviour of each to the other, the invariable
severity of Lady Susan and the silent dejection of Frederica, I am
led to believe as heretofore that the former has no real love for her
daughter, and has never done her justice or treated her affectionately.
I have not been able to have any conversation with my niece; she is shy,
and I think I can see that some pains are taken to prevent her being
much with me. Nothing satisfactory transpires as to her reason for
running away. Her kind-hearted uncle, you may be sure, was too fearful
of distressing her to ask many questions as they travelled. I wish it
had been possible for me to fetch her instead of him. I think I should
have discovered the truth in the course of a thirty-mile journey. The
small pianoforte has been removed within these few days, at Lady Susan's
request, into her dressing-room, and Frederica spends great part of the
day there, practising as it is called; but I seldom hear any noise when
I pass that way; what she does with herself there I do not know. There
are plenty of books, but it is not every girl who has been running
wild the first fifteen years of her life, that can or will read. Poor
creature! the prospect from her window is not very instructive, for that
room overlooks the lawn, you know, with the shrubbery on one side,
where she may see her mother walking for an hour together in earnest
conversation with Reginald. A girl of Frederica's age must be childish
indeed, if such things do not strike her. Is it not inexcusable to give
such an example to a daughter? Yet Reginald still thinks Lady Susan the
best of mothers, and still condemns Frederica as a worthless girl! He
is convinced that her attempt to run away proceeded from no, justifiable
cause, and had no provocation. I am sure I cannot say that it HAD,
but while Miss Summers declares that Miss Vernon showed no signs of
obstinacy or perverseness during her whole stay in Wigmore Street, till
she was detected in this scheme, I cannot so readily credit what Lady
Susan has made him, and wants to make me believe, that it was merely
an impatience of restraint and a desire of escaping from the tuition of
masters which brought on the plan of an elopement. O Reginald, how is
your judgment enslaved! He scarcely dares even allow her to be handsome,
and when I speak of her beauty, replies only that her eyes have no
brilliancy! Sometimes he is sure she is deficient in understanding, and
at others that her temper only is in fault. In short, when a person is
always to deceive, it is impossible to be consistent. Lady Susan
finds it necessary that Frederica should be to blame, and probably has
sometimes judged it expedient to excuse her of ill-nature and sometimes
to lament her want of sense. Reginald is only repeating after her
ladyship.

I remain, &c. , &c. ,

CATHERINE VERNON.





XVIII


FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME


Churchhill.


My dear Mother,--I am very glad to find that my description of Frederica
Vernon has interested you, for I do believe her truly deserving of your
regard; and when I have communicated a notion which has recently struck
me, your kind impressions in her favour will, I am sure, be heightened.
I cannot help fancying that she is growing partial to my brother. I so
very often see her eyes fixed on his face with a remarkable expression
of pensive admiration. He is certainly very handsome; and yet more,
there is an openness in his manner that must be highly prepossessing,
and I am sure she feels it so. Thoughtful and pensive in general, her
countenance always brightens into a smile when Reginald says anything
amusing; and, let the subject be ever so serious that he may be
conversing on, I am much mistaken if a syllable of his uttering escapes
her. I want to make him sensible of all this, for we know the power
of gratitude on such a heart as his; and could Frederica's artless
affection detach him from her mother, we might bless the day which
brought her to Churchhill. I think, my dear mother, you would not
disapprove of her as a daughter. She is extremely young, to be sure,
has had a wretched education, and a dreadful example of levity in her
mother; but yet I can pronounce her disposition to be excellent, and her
natural abilities very good. Though totally without accomplishments, she
is by no means so ignorant as one might expect to find her, being fond
of books and spending the chief of her time in reading. Her mother
leaves her more to herself than she did, and I have her with me as much
as possible, and have taken great pains to overcome her timidity. We
are very good friends, and though she never opens her lips before her
mother, she talks enough when alone with me to make it clear that, if
properly treated by Lady Susan, she would always appear to much greater
advantage. There cannot be a more gentle, affectionate heart; or more
obliging manners, when acting without restraint; and her little cousins
are all very fond of her.

Your affectionate daughter,

C. VERNON





XIX


LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON


Churchhill.


You will be eager, I know, to hear something further of Frederica, and
perhaps may think me negligent for not writing before. She arrived with
her uncle last Thursday fortnight, when, of course, I lost no time in
demanding the cause of her behaviour; and soon found myself to have been
perfectly right in attributing it to my own letter. The prospect of
it frightened her so thoroughly, that, with a mixture of true girlish
perverseness and folly, she resolved on getting out of the house and
proceeding directly by the stage to her friends, the Clarkes; and had
really got as far as the length of two streets in her journey when
she was fortunately missed, pursued, and overtaken. Such was the first
distinguished exploit of Miss Frederica Vernon; and, if we consider that
it was achieved at the tender age of sixteen, we shall have room for
the most flattering prognostics of her future renown. I am excessively
provoked, however, at the parade of propriety which prevented Miss
Summers from keeping the girl; and it seems so extraordinary a piece of
nicety, considering my daughter's family connections, that I can only
suppose the lady to be governed by the fear of never getting her money.
Be that as it may, however, Frederica is returned on my hands; and,
having nothing else to employ her, is busy in pursuing the plan of
romance begun at Langford. She is actually falling in love with Reginald
De Courcy! To disobey her mother by refusing an unexceptionable offer
is not enough; her affections must also be given without her mother's
approbation. I never saw a girl of her age bid fairer to be the sport
of mankind. Her feelings are tolerably acute, and she is so charmingly
artless in their display as to afford the most reasonable hope of her
being ridiculous, and despised by every man who sees her.

Artlessness will never do in love matters; and that girl is born a
simpleton who has it either by nature or affectation. I am not yet
certain that Reginald sees what she is about, nor is it of much
consequence. She is now an object of indifference to him, and she would
be one of contempt were he to understand her emotions. Her beauty is
much admired by the Vernons, but it has no effect on him. She is in high
favour with her aunt altogether, because she is so little like myself,
of course. She is exactly the companion for Mrs. Vernon, who dearly
loves to be firm, and to have all the sense and all the wit of the
conversation to herself: Frederica will never eclipse her. When she
first came I was at some pains to prevent her seeing much of her aunt;
but I have relaxed, as I believe I may depend on her observing the rules
I have laid down for their discourse. But do not imagine that with all
this lenity I have for a moment given up my plan of her marriage. No; I
am unalterably fixed on this point, though I have not yet quite decided
on the manner of bringing it about. I should not chuse to have the
business brought on here, and canvassed by the wise heads of Mr. and
Mrs. Vernon; and I cannot just now afford to go to town. Miss Frederica
must therefore wait a little.

Yours ever,

S. VERNON.





XX


MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY


Churchhill


We have a very unexpected guest with us at present, my dear Mother: he
arrived yesterday. I heard a carriage at the door, as I was sitting with
my children while they dined; and supposing I should be wanted, left the
nursery soon afterwards, and was half-way downstairs, when Frederica,
as pale as ashes, came running up, and rushed by me into her own room.
I instantly followed, and asked her what was the matter. "Oh! " said
she, "he is come--Sir James is come, and what shall I do? " This was no
explanation; I begged her to tell me what she meant. At that moment we
were interrupted by a knock at the door: it was Reginald, who came, by
Lady Susan's direction, to call Frederica down. "It is Mr. De Courcy! "
said she, colouring violently. "Mamma has sent for me; I must go. "
We all three went down together; and I saw my brother examining the
terrified face of Frederica with surprize. In the breakfast-room we
found Lady Susan, and a young man of gentlemanlike appearance, whom she
introduced by the name of Sir James Martin--the very person, as you may
remember, whom it was said she had been at pains to detach from Miss
Mainwaring; but the conquest, it seems, was not designed for herself,
or she has since transferred it to her daughter; for Sir James is now
desperately in love with Frederica, and with full encouragement from
mamma. The poor girl, however, I am sure, dislikes him; and though his
person and address are very well, he appears, both to Mr. Vernon and
me, a very weak young man. Frederica looked so shy, so confused, when
we entered the room, that I felt for her exceedingly. Lady Susan behaved
with great attention to her visitor; and yet I thought I could perceive
that she had no particular pleasure in seeing him. Sir James talked a
great deal, and made many civil excuses to me for the liberty he had
taken in coming to Churchhill--mixing more frequent laughter with his
discourse than the subject required--said many things over and over
again, and told Lady Susan three times that he had seen Mrs. Johnson
a few evenings before. He now and then addressed Frederica, but more
frequently her mother. The poor girl sat all this time without opening
her lips--her eyes cast down, and her colour varying every instant;
while Reginald observed all that passed in perfect silence. At length
Lady Susan, weary, I believe, of her situation, proposed walking; and
we left the two gentlemen together, to put on our pelisses. As we went
upstairs Lady Susan begged permission to attend me for a few moments in
my dressing-room, as she was anxious to speak with me in private. I led
her thither accordingly, and as soon as the door was closed, she said:
"I was never more surprized in my life than by Sir James's arrival,
and the suddenness of it requires some apology to you, my dear sister;
though to ME, as a mother, it is highly flattering. He is so extremely
attached to my daughter that he could not exist longer without seeing
her. Sir James is a young man of an amiable disposition and excellent
character; a little too much of the rattle, perhaps, but a year or two
will rectify THAT: and he is in other respects so very eligible a match
for Frederica, that I have always observed his attachment with the
greatest pleasure; and am persuaded that you and my brother will give
the alliance your hearty approbation. I have never before mentioned the
likelihood of its taking place to anyone, because I thought that whilst
Frederica continued at school it had better not be known to exist;
but now, as I am convinced that Frederica is too old ever to submit to
school confinement, and have, therefore, begun to consider her union
with Sir James as not very distant, I had intended within a few days to
acquaint yourself and Mr. Vernon with the whole business. I am sure, my
dear sister, you will excuse my remaining silent so long, and agree
with me that such circumstances, while they continue from any cause
in suspense, cannot be too cautiously concealed. When you have the
happiness of bestowing your sweet little Catherine, some years hence, on
a man who in connection and character is alike unexceptionable, you
will know what I feel now; though, thank Heaven, you cannot have all my
reasons for rejoicing in such an event. Catherine will be amply provided
for, and not, like my Frederica, indebted to a fortunate
establishment for the comforts of life. " She concluded by demanding
my congratulations. I gave them somewhat awkwardly, I believe; for, in
fact, the sudden disclosure of so important a matter took from me the
power of speaking with any clearness. She thanked me, however, most
affectionately, for my kind concern in the welfare of herself and
daughter; and then said: "I am not apt to deal in professions, my
dear Mrs. Vernon, and I never had the convenient talent of affecting
sensations foreign to my heart; and therefore I trust you will believe
me when I declare, that much as I had heard in your praise before I knew
you, I had no idea that I should ever love you as I now do; and I
must further say that your friendship towards me is more particularly
gratifying because I have reason to believe that some attempts were made
to prejudice you against me. I only wish that they, whoever they are,
to whom I am indebted for such kind intentions, could see the terms on
which we now are together, and understand the real affection we feel
for each other; but I will not detain you any longer. God bless you, for
your goodness to me and my girl, and continue to you all your present
happiness. " What can one say of such a woman, my dear mother? Such
earnestness such solemnity of expression! and yet I cannot help
suspecting the truth of everything she says. As for Reginald, I believe
he does not know what to make of the matter. When Sir James came, he
appeared all astonishment and perplexity; the folly of the young man and
the confusion of Frederica entirely engrossed him; and though a little
private discourse with Lady Susan has since had its effect, he is still
hurt, I am sure, at her allowing of such a man's attentions to her
daughter. Sir James invited himself with great composure to remain here
a few days--hoped we would not think it odd, was aware of its being very
impertinent, but he took the liberty of a relation; and concluded by
wishing, with a laugh, that he might be really one very soon. Even Lady
Susan seemed a little disconcerted by this forwardness; in her heart I
am persuaded she sincerely wished him gone. But something must be done
for this poor girl, if her feelings are such as both I and her uncle
believe them to be. She must not be sacrificed to policy or ambition,
and she must not be left to suffer from the dread of it. The girl whose
heart can distinguish Reginald De Courcy, deserves, however he may
slight her, a better fate than to be Sir James Martin's wife. As soon
as I can get her alone, I will discover the real truth; but she seems to
wish to avoid me. I hope this does not proceed from anything wrong, and
that I shall not find out I have thought too well of her. Her
behaviour to Sir James certainly speaks the greatest consciousness and
embarrassment, but I see nothing in it more like encouragement. Adieu,
my dear mother.

Yours, &c. ,

C. VERNON.





XXI


MISS VERNON TO MR DE COURCY


Sir,--I hope you will excuse this liberty; I am forced upon it by the
greatest distress, or I should be ashamed to trouble you. I am very
miserable about Sir James Martin, and have no other way in the world of
helping myself but by writing to you, for I am forbidden even speaking
to my uncle and aunt on the subject; and this being the case, I am
afraid my applying to you will appear no better than equivocation, and
as if I attended to the letter and not the spirit of mamma's commands.
But if you do not take my part and persuade her to break it off, I shall
be half distracted, for I cannot bear him. No human being but YOU could
have any chance of prevailing with her. If you will, therefore, have the
unspeakably great kindness of taking my part with her, and persuading
her to send Sir James away, I shall be more obliged to you than it is
possible for me to express. I always disliked him from the first: it is
not a sudden fancy, I assure you, sir; I always thought him silly and
impertinent and disagreeable, and now he is grown worse than ever. I
would rather work for my bread than marry him. I do not know how
to apologize enough for this letter; I know it is taking so great a
liberty. I am aware how dreadfully angry it will make mamma, but I
remember the risk.

I am, Sir, your most humble servant,

F. S. V.





XXII


LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON


Churchhill.


This is insufferable! My dearest friend, I was never so enraged before,
and must relieve myself by writing to you, who I know will enter into
all my feelings. Who should come on Tuesday but Sir James Martin! Guess
my astonishment, and vexation--for, as you well know, I never wished him
to be seen at Churchhill. What a pity that you should not have known
his intentions! Not content with coming, he actually invited himself to
remain here a few days. I could have poisoned him! I made the best of
it, however, and told my story with great success to Mrs. Vernon, who,
whatever might be her real sentiments, said nothing in opposition to
mine. I made a point also of Frederica's behaving civilly to Sir James,
and gave her to understand that I was absolutely determined on her
marrying him. She said something of her misery, but that was all. I have
for some time been more particularly resolved on the match from seeing
the rapid increase of her affection for Reginald, and from not feeling
secure that a knowledge of such affection might not in the end awaken
a return. Contemptible as a regard founded only on compassion must make
them both in my eyes, I felt by no means assured that such might not be
the consequence. It is true that Reginald had not in any degree grown
cool towards me; but yet he has lately mentioned Frederica spontaneously
and unnecessarily, and once said something in praise of her person.
HE was all astonishment at the appearance of my visitor, and at first
observed Sir James with an attention which I was pleased to see not
unmixed with jealousy; but unluckily it was impossible for me really
to torment him, as Sir James, though extremely gallant to me, very
soon made the whole party understand that his heart was devoted to my
daughter. I had no great difficulty in convincing De Courcy, when we
were alone, that I was perfectly justified, all things considered,
in desiring the match; and the whole business seemed most comfortably
arranged. They could none of them help perceiving that Sir James was no
Solomon; but I had positively forbidden Frederica complaining to Charles
Vernon or his wife, and they had therefore no pretence for interference;
though my impertinent sister, I believe, wanted only opportunity for
doing so. Everything, however, was going on calmly and quietly; and,
though I counted the hours of Sir James's stay, my mind was entirely
satisfied with the posture of affairs. Guess, then, what I must feel at
the sudden disturbance of all my schemes; and that, too, from a quarter
where I had least reason to expect it. Reginald came this morning into
my dressing-room with a very unusual solemnity of countenance, and after
some preface informed me in so many words that he wished to reason with
me on the impropriety and unkindness of allowing Sir James Martin to
address my daughter contrary to her inclinations. I was all amazement.
When I found that he was not to be laughed out of his design, I calmly
begged an explanation, and desired to know by what he was impelled, and
by whom commissioned, to reprimand me. He then told me, mixing in
his speech a few insolent compliments and ill-timed expressions of
tenderness, to which I listened with perfect indifference, that my
daughter had acquainted him with some circumstances concerning herself,
Sir James, and me which had given him great uneasiness. In short, I
found that she had in the first place actually written to him to request
his interference, and that, on receiving her letter, he had conversed
with her on the subject of it, in order to understand the particulars,
and to assure himself of her real wishes. I have not a doubt but that
the girl took this opportunity of making downright love to him. I am
convinced of it by the manner in which he spoke of her. Much good may
such love do him! I shall ever despise the man who can be gratified by
the passion which he never wished to inspire, nor solicited the avowal
of. I shall always detest them both. He can have no true regard for
me, or he would not have listened to her; and SHE, with her little
rebellious heart and indelicate feelings, to throw herself into the
protection of a young man with whom she has scarcely ever exchanged
two words before! I am equally confounded at HER impudence and HIS
credulity. How dared he believe what she told him in my disfavour! Ought
he not to have felt assured that I must have unanswerable motives for
all that I had done? Where was his reliance on my sense and goodness
then? Where the resentment which true love would have dictated against
the person defaming me--that person, too, a chit, a child, without
talent or education, whom he had been always taught to despise? I
was calm for some time; but the greatest degree of forbearance may be
overcome, and I hope I was afterwards sufficiently keen. He endeavoured,
long endeavoured, to soften my resentment; but that woman is a
fool indeed who, while insulted by accusation, can be worked on by
compliments. At length he left me, as deeply provoked as myself; and
he showed his anger more. I was quite cool, but he gave way to the most
violent indignation; I may therefore expect it will the sooner subside,
and perhaps his may be vanished for ever, while mine will be found still
fresh and implacable.