 Section 9 of Memoirs of Miss Sydney Bidoff. September the 4th. My mother, I find, has made Lady Grimstone her confidant in relation to my affairs. The dear woman never keeps her mind to herself on any subject. Lady Grimstone highly applauded her conduct in that business, and bestowed a few several words on me for my filial duty, intermixed with an ungrateful comparison of her own daughter's behaviour, and she condolped with herself by saying that good parents had not always good children. She told my mother that she wished to see the child, meaning me, happily disposed of, for that, notwithstanding the prudence of my behaviour, the world would be apt to cast reflections on me, on account of the abruptness with which the match was broken off, without the true reasons being known, and my illness, she said, might be imputed to the disappointment, which might incline people to suspect the rejection had been on Mr. Falkland's side. What a provoking hint was this, my dear. It is really alarmed my mother, who depends much on the judgment of her friend and has at the same time so nicer regard to the honour of her family. I wish that formal old woman would mind her own business. September 6th My mother and Lady Grimstone have had abundance of private confabulation these two days, from which Mrs. Veer and I are excluded. I wish there may not be some mischief brewing. One thing, however, has given me pleasure. Lady Grimstone has invited her daughter to stay at Grimstone Hall as long as my mother and I continue here. Mrs. Veer tells me she suspects the subject of their conferences, but she is perverse and will not tell me what she thinks, for fear, as she says, she should have guessed wrong and her surmises would only tease me. September 10th A packet sent from London, a letter from Sir George, one from my Cecilia, and so soon, too, welcome, welcome, thou faithful messenger from the faithfulest of hearts, thou dear, anticipating little prophetess, what put it into thy head to call Mr. Arnold a new conquest, upon my but barely mentioning him to you? I was just going to tell you all, and behold, your own whimsical imagination has suggested the most material part to you already. You desire me to be sincere? Was that necessary, my sister, for you to me? You say you are sure Mr. Arnold is, or will be, my lover, and insist on my being more particular in my description of him. What a strange girl you are! I mean, I ask you, what put this into your head? What busy little spirit of intelligence flew to you with this news before I knew it myself? For as to the fact, it is but too certain. This has been the subject of my mother's and Lady Grimstone's private conferences, and Mrs. Veer, sly thing as she is, guessed it. It seems Mr. Arnold disclosed his passion to Lady Grimstone in order to ask her advice about it. She loves mightily to be consulted, and ill-starred as I am did me the honour to recommend me strongly to him. And she has prepossessed my mother too in favour of this new man. I wish the meddling old dame had been dumb! Now shall I go through another fiery trial? Heaven help me if Lady Grimstone were to be my judge! But my mother is all goodness. Well, but you want a description of this man. I will give it to you, though I have scarce patience to write about him. Indeed, Cecilia, I am vexed. I foresee a great deal of trouble from that quarter, but come, I will try what I can say. The man is about thirty. Gentile, and handsome enough. At least he is reckoned so, and I believe I should think him so if I were not angry with him. He is very like your brother, Henry, and you know he is an allowed handsome man. He seems to have plain good sense, and is good-humoured, I believe. I do not know of what colour his eyes are, for I never looked much at him. Lady Grimstone says he is a scholar, a thing she pretends to value highly, and a mighty sober, pious, worthy gentleman. He is of a very good family, and has an estate of about fifteen hundred pounds a year, upon which there is a jointure of three hundred pounds a year paid to his brother's widow. Part of the estate is in Kent, and part in this county of Essex, where he has a mansion house, a well enough-looking old-fashioned place, something in the Grimstone Hall style, at about a mile distance from this, where he passes most of his time. I have told you already he plays divinely on several instruments. This is the only circumstance about him that pleases me. He has not yet made his addresses to me inform, yet we all know that he intends it, from his uncommon assiduity towards me, but he has a sort of reserve about him and loves to do everything in his own way. Bless me, here he is. His chariot has just driven into the court, and Mrs. Veer peeps in upon me, and where the most vexatious arch-ness bids me to come down to the parlour, but I will not, unless my mother desires me. I will go into the garden to be for a while out of the way. September the eleventh. Yesterday evening was productive of nothing but looks and compliments and bows and so forth, except two or three delightful pieces of music, which he executed incomparably. But this morning, my Cecilia, oh, this morning, the man spoke out, told me, in dang-right plain English, that he loved me. How insipid is such a declaration when it comes from one who is indifferent to us. I do not know how it was, but instead of being abashed, I got a smile on his face when he declared himself, that you may be sure I did not. That would not have been pretty. I was sitting in the little drawing-room reading when he came in, to be sure he was sent to me by the ancient ladies, otherwise he would not have intruded, for the man is not ill-bred. The book happened to be horris. Upon his entering the room I laid it by. He asked me, politely enough, what were my studies? When I named the author, he took the book up and opening the leaves, started, and looked me full in the face. I coloured. My charming Miss Bidoff, said he, do you prefer this to the agreeable entertainment of finishing this beautiful rose here that seems to blush at your neglect of it? He spoke this, pointing to a little piece of embroidery that lay in a frame before me. I was netled at the question it was too assuming. Sir, I hope I was as innocently and as usefully employed, and I assure you, I give a greater portion of my time to my needle than to my book. You are so lovely, Madam, that nothing you can do needs an apology. An apology, I assure you, did not this look, my dear, as if the man thought I ought to beg his pardon for understanding Latin. For this accidental, and I think to a woman trivial, accomplishment I am indebted, as you know, to Sir George, who took so much pains with me the two or three summers he was in disposed at Sydney Castle. He then proceeded to tell me how much he admired, how much he loved me, and that having been encouraged by Lady Grimstone's assuring him that I was disengaged, observed that. He presumed to tell me so. Oh, thought I, perhaps thou art thyself a Grimstonean, and do not think it necessary that the heart should be consulted. I answered him mightily, civilly, and mighty little to the purpose. Sir, I thank you for your favourable sentiments. Lady Grimstone does me a great deal of honour. I think I so happy in her good opinion. That he was not to be put off. He pressed me to give him hopes, as he called it. Alas, I have no hopes to give him. He said he would not presume to mention his love to my mother, though Lady Grimstone pressed him to it, it was like her, till he had first declared himself to me. This was not indelicate. My heart thanked him for it, though I only returned him a bow. We were seasonably, to me at least, interrupted here by the arrival of my friend the Dean. He had come to see Lady Grimstone just as Mr Arnold had entered into conversation with me. The old gentleman had a mind to walk in the garden. The little drawing-room where we were opened into it by a glass door, so that Lady Grimstone and my mother were obliged to bring him that way. Though I was glad that the conversation was broke off, yet I could have wished that I had first had an opportunity of throwing a little cold water on Mr Arnold's hopes, lest he should have put too favourable an interpretation on the reception I gave him, and mentioned the thing to my mother before I had time to speak to her. I was in some confusion at their entering the room. Mr Arnold had at that moment laid hold of one of my hands, and I had but just time to withdraw it when the door flew open to get entrance to the two ladies in the good man. The latter, lifting up both his hands as if conscious of having done something wrong, with a good-humoured freedom, asked pardon. But with a look that seemed to indicate he thought the apology necessary both to Mr Arnold and me. This disconcerted me more. My mother smiled, and Lady Grimstone drew up her long neck and winked at the dean. I took up my hat, which lay in a window, without well-knowing what I did, and said I would wait on them into the garden. Mr Arnold followed my example, but looked at me. I do not know how, impertently, as if he thought I did not dislike him. I took one turn with them, and then slipped away, under pretense of going into dress. I ran directly into Mrs Veer's room, and told her what had passed between Mr Arnold and me. She laughed, and said she could have told me long ago it would have come to that. I knew Mr Arnold admired you, said she, the first time I saw you in his company. He is no contemptible conquest, I can tell you. He assured my mother that you were the only woman he ever saw in his life that had made an impression on him, and I am inclined to believe him for he is not a man of an amorous complexion, nor did I ever hear of him making his addresses to anyone, though he might have his choice of the best fortunes and the best families in the county. For the ladies, I must inform you, admire him exceedingly, and when you are known to be his choice, you will be the envy of all the young women in the county. I sighed, I don't know why, and said, I desired not to create envy on that account. Mrs Veer said, I really misbid off if your heart is at liberty, I know of no man more worthy of it than Mr Arnold, but perhaps, looking with a kind earnestness on me, that may not be your case. I told her my heart was not engaged, as it really is not for indeed Cecilia, I do not think of Mr Falkland, but that I did not find in myself any great inclination towards Mr Arnold. Oh, my dear, said she, if you find no disinclination, it is enough. I married for love, yet I was far from being happy. The vexation that I occasioned in my own and my husband's family was a counterbalance to the satisfaction of possessing the man I loved. Mr Arnold, besides being very amiable in his person, has good sense and good temper, and if you marry him with nothing more than indifference, gratitude will soon produce love in such a breast as yours. Were there anything like aversion in your heart, then indeed it would be criminal in you to accept of him. Mrs Veer delivered her sentiments with such a calm sweetness, such disinterested sincerity, that what she said made an impression on me. We are apt, contrary as it may seem to reason, to be more wrought upon by the opinion and advice of young people like ourselves, than by that of persons whose experience certainly gives them a better right to form judgments. But we have a sort of natural repugnance to the being dictated to, even by those who have an authority to do it. And as age gives a superiority, everything that comes from it carries a sort of air of prescribing, which we are wonderfully inclined to reject. Had Lady Grimstone said this to me, it would have put me upon my guard as suspecting a design on my liberty of choice. Even my good mother might have been listened to on this subject not without uneasiness, though my duty to her would not suffer me to give her a moment's pain unless I was sure that my eternal, as well as temporal, happiness was at stake. I told Mrs. Veer that I had no aversion to Mr. Arnold on the contrary that if I had a sister I should wish her married to him. Now, my Cecilia, the mischief of it is, there can be no reasonable objection made to him. He is a very tolerable man, but I knew a man once that I liked better, but, fi, fi upon him, I am sure I ought not to like him, and therefore I will not. I am positive. If I were let alone, I should be as happy as ever. I told you I got a letter from my brother. He says in it he has had one from Mr. Falkland, who is now in your part of the world. He tells Sir George that if my Lady Bidoff would be so good as to see Miss B, and converse with her, he is not without hopes that she may so far exculpate him as to induce my Lady to repeal his sentence of banishment. Sir George adds his own wishes for this, but says, to give you his words, he fears the wench will not be honest enough to do Falkland justice. Justice? What can my brother mean by this? How ungenerous these men are, even the best of them in love matters. He knows the poor girl dotes on her destroyer, and might perhaps take shame to herself, rather than throw as much blame on him as he deserves. I think this is all the justice that can be expected from her, and how poor an attenuation would this make of his guilt. It would only add to the merit of her sufferings without lessening his fault. To what purpose, then, would it be? I know my mother's sentiments already on that head. I would not show Sir George's letter to her. He had said so many ridiculous things about Lady Grimston in it, which I know would have offended her highly. Otherwise, on account of Mr. Falkland's paragraph, I should have been glad she had seen it. September the 12th. Ah, my sister, my friend, what shall I do? Oh, that officious Lady Grimston! What ill star drove me to her house! Nothing would serve her, but she must know what Mr. Arnold said to me in the drawing-room conference and how I had behaved. She made her inquiry before my mother in the dean after I'd left them in the garden. What could the man do? He had no reason to conceal what had passed, and frankly only had made me an offer of his heart. Well, and how did Miss receive it? asked Lady Grimston. With that modesty and polite sweetness that she does everything, answered Mr. Arnold, he could say no less, you know. He then took occasion to apply particularly to my mother, apologising at the same time for his not having done it before. What the self-sufficient creature added, I know not, for my mother, from whom I had this account, did not repeat all he said, but it seems it was enough to make her imagine I had not heard him reluctantly, and accordingly she gave him her permission to win me and wed me. I could cry for very vexation to be made such a puppet of. This eclourishment I dreaded before I had time to explain myself to my mother, the best of women still anticipating what I had to say congratulated me on my extraordinary prudence in not letting a childish misplaced attachment keep such a hold on my heart as to make me blind to the merits of a more deserving object. Dear Madam, said I, sure Mr. Arnold did not say that I had encouraged his addresses. Encouraged, my dear, why sure the hearing from a young lady of your education is encouragement enough to a man of sense. I heard him with complacence, Madam, because I thought that due to him, but I had not time to tell him that it was my wish to remain single, at least for some time. My mother looked surprised. Sidney, this is not what I expected from you. I flattered myself. You thought no longer of Mr. Falkland. She contracted her brow a little. Madam, I do not. Indeed, I think no more of him. But may I not be permitted to continue as I am? Had you never had an engagement with Mr. Falkland, answered my mother, I should be far from urging you on this occasion. But circumstance as you now are, I think your honor is concerned. Lady Grimston has put your affair in such a light to me as I never considered it in before. How mortifying must the reflection be, my dear, to think that it may be said Mr. Falkland perhaps flew off from some disadvantageous circumstance he discovered in regard to you. The world wants not envious malicious tongues enough to give it this term. Your unlucky illness and your brother's ill-timed assiduity in going so often to him when he was at Richmond looks as if we had been endeavoring to recall him. Everybody knows the marriage was almost concluded, and Lady Grimston, though she thinks our reasons for breaking it off were extremely cogent, yet, as she knows the world well, thinks it has not virtue enough to believe those to be the true reasons, and that it will be much more apt to put an invidious construction on the affair that may be very detrimental to you in your future prospects. These considerations alone ought to determine you, but there is one still of greater moment which I hope from the goodness of your heart will have still greater weight with you. That unfortunate young lady who ought to be the wife of Mr. Falkland, if you were once put beyond the reach, even of his most distant hope, would stand the better chance for having justice done to her. At least it would leave him void of that pretense which he at first pleaded, and which probably he will continue to do while you remain single. Think seriously of the matter, my love. I shall only add that Mr. Arnold is, every way, an unexceptionable match, and that your acceptance of him will be extremely agreeable to me. As on the contrary, your refusal will give an uneasiness to your indulgent mother which she never yet experienced from you. She left me with these cruel words, cruel in their kindness. Oh, she knows I am flexible by nature, and to her will yielding is air. What can I do? My heart is not in a disposition to love, yet again and again I repeat it Mr. Falkland has no interest there. What he once had he has lost, but I cannot compel it to like and unlike, and like anew at pleasure. Fain would I bring myself cheerfully to conform to my mother's will, for I have no will of my own. I never knew what it was to have one, and never shall I believe, for I am sure I will not contend with a husband. I have told Mrs. Veer what my mother said to me, and she is entirely of her mind. Everybody is combined against me. I am treated like a baby that knows not what is fit for it to choose or to reject. September the 15th. I have been searching my heart, my dear Cecilia, to try, if there remained, a lurking particle of my former flame unextinguished. A flame I call it as we are allowed that metaphor, but it never rose to that. It was but a single ray, a gentle glow that just warmed my breast without scorching. What it might have arisen to, I will not say, but I have the satisfaction to find that the short-lived fire is quite extinct, and the mansion is even chilled with cold. This was a very necessary scrutiny before I would even entertain a thought of Mr. Arnold, and believe me, had I found it otherwise than I say, I would rather have hazarded my mother's displeasure by owning the truth to her than injure any man by giving him my hand with an estranged heart. I will acknowledge to you, my sister, that it was not without a struggle I reduced my mind to this frame. My heart, foolish thing, industrious to perplex itself, would feign have suggested some paliating circumstances in Mr. Falkland's favour, but I forbid it to interpose. Trifler said, I let your guardian, your proper guide, judge and determine for you in this important cause, whereon so much of your future peace depends. It sighed, but had the virtue to submit, and I arraigned Falkland before a little tribunal in my breast, where I would suffer reason only to preside. The little felon, love, knocked at the door once or twice, but justice kept him out, and after a long, and I think of fair, trial, he was at length cast out, and in order to strengthen my results and justify my mother's as well as my own conduct, these are the arguments which I have deduced from the evidences against him. If Mr. Falkland feared the frailty of his virtue, why did he not fly when he was first alarmed with the knowledge of the lady's passion for him? If not for his own sake, yet at least for hers. If he could not return her love, was he not cruel in suffering her to feed a hopeless flame? But since his evil fate urged him on, and the unhappy girl lost her honour, was he not bound to repair it? He had never seen me at that time, was under no personal engagement to me, and might easily have acquitted himself to my brother from so justifiable a motive. What if I had married him ignorant of this secret, and it had afterwards come to my ears? How miserable would it have made me, and to think that I had stood between an unfortunate young creature and her happiness! For had Mr. Falkland never heard of me, had he not been prejudiced in my favour, this young woman's beauty and innocence, which he acknowledges, might have then engaged his honest vows? The wicked aunt would not have been tempted to betray her trust, nor he, shocking thought whenever it recurs, to buy that favour he might have obtained on virtuous terms. His prior engagements to my brother was the fatal plea that undid them both. Had he not been furnished with this excuse, her hopes might have supported her virtue, or, if ignorant of this, she fell, what pretence could he offer after the injury was done for not fulfilling an obligation of so much more importance? I could not have suffered by not obtaining a man I never saw. Miss B is undone by losing him, yet his word to Sir George, the breach of which could have been attended with no ill consequence, was to be preferred to an act of justice. This is the false honour upon which the men peek themselves so much. An innocent child stigmatised, an amiable woman abandoned to shame and grief. I thank heaven I made not myself accessory to this. Had I married Mr. Faulkland, knowing his fault, I could not say so, nor have blamed anything but my own imprudence if I, in my turn, found myself deserted. Who knows but that he might, after having banged me in chains, return to his neglected mistress, and that love which, when it would have been meritorious to him, he disrelished, he might have pursued with eagerness when interdicted. This might have been the case. I believe you may remember an instance of it among our own acquaintance. Mr. Saunders, who refused a young lady for his bride from an absolute dislike of her person, took uncommon pains to debauch her when she became the wife of his friend. Had Mr. Faulkland so behaved, what a wretch would it have made me. You know I have not a grain of jealousy in my composition yet. I am sure a neglect of this kind would have made me very miserable. You have not forgot, I believe, that about two years ago there was a match proposed to my mother by the Bishop of B between me and his nephew. The young man was heir to a good fortune and was reckoned handsome and accomplished, and I think he really was so. I was entirely free from prepossessions in favour of anyone, and had no objection to him, but that I knew he had a most lamentably vulnerable heart, for he had been in love with two or three women of my acquaintance. My mother mentioned him to me upon the good old Prelate's recommendation, and I gave her this as my reason for disliking the offer, which she approved of so entirely that the thing went no farther. Indeed, I think that woman is a fool who risks her contentment with one of a light disposition. Marriage will not change men's natures, and it is not everyone who has virtue or prudence enough to be reclaimed. Upon the whole I am satisfied with my lot, and I am sure I could hear with pleasure that Mr Folkland was married to that Miss B. I wish I knew the other letters that compose her name. End of Section 9 Section 10 of Memoirs of Miss Sydney Bidolf This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Memoirs of Miss Sydney Bidolf by Francis Sheridan Volume 1 continued September 16th My mother asked me today had I considered of what she had been saying to me, I told her I had, and only begged a little more time. She kissed me with tears in her eyes. To be sure, my dear, as much as you can reasonably desire, I know my Sydney is above trifling. Mrs Veer was present when my mother left the room. Oh, Miss Bidolf, said she, who would refuse to gratify such a parent as that? Had my mother condescended to treat me so, I am sure she could have wrought on me to do anything she liked, even though it had been repugnant to my inclination. Dear madam, I replied, how sweetly you enforce my duty. Yes, I will obey that kindest best of mothers. I believe I spoke this, though without intending it, in a tone that implied something like making a merit of this concession, for Mrs Veer immediately answered, There's a good child, that to oblige its mama will accept of a very handsome young gentleman with a good estate, and one that many a girl in England would give her eyes for. I felt the rebuke, but turning it off with a smile said, But you forget, my dear, that I am not dying for him. September the 20th. How will you plume yourself on your sagacity, Cecilia, when you read this account of my love which you so wisely foretold? I can tell you I am trying to like Mr Arnold as fast as I can. I make him sing and play for this purpose from morning till night, for he is here every day and all day. Lady Grimston holds her head a quarter of a yard higher than she did before, and looks, as who should say, it was I that brought this about. The Dean is as frolic as mayday upon it, for he is very fond of Mr Arnold, but tells him he will not forgive him for robbing him of his second wife, for such, he says, he intended me. I think his daughter, a pretty girl of about 17, looks a little grave of late. I hope she does not like Mr Arnold herself. I wish my mother would take it into her head that she was in love with him, and that Mr Arnold would promise to marry her. Then, should I, a second time, crown me with a willow garland? But there is no fear of this, or rather no hope. Lady Grimston has given my mother such a character of Mr Arnold, that if you will take her word for it, there is not a man like him in the world, and my mother firmly believes every syllable she says. She told me today she would write to Sir George to give him an account of the matter, and desire his advice. This is a compliment she would not omit paying for any of the things she did. Though I know my brother's judgment has now lost all credit with her, and that let his opinion be what it will, she is firmly resolved on her new plan. Knowing as you do my mother's firmness, when once she is possessed with a thing, you will not wonder that I did not make attempts to alter her mind, which I knew would be fruitless. She likes Mr Arnold prodigiously. She peeks herself on her skill in physiognomy, and says if she is deceived in this gentleman, she will never again rely on that science. Lady Grimston is so fond of him that I wonder she did not marry him herself. September the 23rd. We have received two letters from Sir George, one in answer to my mother's, the other to me. I will give them both to you. The following is a copy of that to my mother. To Dorothy from George. Madam, I thank you for the honor you do me in asking my advice, in regard to the proposal of marriage you have received for my sister, but I am entirely disqualified from giving you any, as I am an absolute stranger both to the person and character of the gentleman you mention. As you are absolute mistress of your daughter's will, as well as of her person, I shall not presume to interfere in this nice point. If the marriage is not already agreed upon, which may be the case, not withstanding the compliment you do me the favor to pay me, I think it would be generous in you to see Miss B, and hear what she has to say before you proceed farther. But in this, as in everything else, your own discretion must guide you. I am, Madam, your affectionate son, and most obedient servant. George Bidolf, London, September the 22nd. My mother was exceedingly displeased with this letter. She said Sir George had a haughtiness in him that was very offensive to her. I have acquitted myself in applying to him, and shall give myself no farther trouble about him or his opinion. As for Miss B, I think she can hardly be under a necessity of coming to town as yet, and that affair may keep cold, for I have but little curiosity to hear what the poor soul may be prompted to say, as I am sure, I shall be time enough to afford her any assistance she may stand in need of. This was the whole of her observation. My brother's letter to me is as follows. Dear Sydney, I received with concern, though I own not with surprise, an account from my mother of a new treaty of marriage that is on foot between you and a Mr Arnold, of whom I know nothing. Instead of congratulating you on this occasion, I cannot help condoling with you, for I have a better opinion of your heart than to suppose it can have so soon renounced poor Falkland. I do not reproach you for your acquiescence in giving him up. I know you could not do otherwise. But why, in the name of precipitancy, are you to be hurried into wedlock already? You went into the country to recover your health, I thought. Prithee, how comes this new husband into your way? I know, child, it is not of your seeking, and do from my heart pity you. I would by no means have you guilty of a breach of duty to your mother, but for heaven's sake, why don't you try your influence over her to have this sudden scheme of matrimony suspended till she sees and talks to this girl that Falkland refers her to? If the wench owns that he was not to blame so much as she was herself, and relinquishes all pretensions to him, don't you think she, my mother, I mean, would in that case remain bound in honour to yield you to his prior claim? Indeed, Sidney, I must blame you for this part of your conduct. It looks like a strange insensibility in you. I know you will urge your perfect submission to your mother's will, and I know, too, that will is as absolute as that of an Eastern monarch. I therefore repeat it. I do not mean to reproach you with your compliance, but I am vexed to the heart, and must give it vent. I see plainly that old piece of formality Lady Grimstone's infernal shriveled pay in all this. For my mother of herself I am sure would not have thought of disposing of you without your liking so soon after an affair that had created you so much uneasiness, unless it had been suggested to her by somebody. Prithee, tell me what sort of a man this Arnold really is, for I do not depend on the partial representations I have had of him. I wish Miss B were come to town, but she is not yet arrived. I inquired for her of Falkland's housekeeper by the name of Jeffress. The woman is at the house at Putney waiting to receive her, but does not know how soon she will come. Would she had been buried before Falkland saw her? I shall expect a letter from you soon. How comes it that you never mentioned Mr. Arnold to me, in any that you have writ? But I excuse you, and am, your affectionate brother, G. B., London, September 22nd. You see, this is Sir George himself, my dear, a mixture of petulancy and indelicacy. There is one thing in him, however commendable, his steady adherence to his friend's interests. You find how impossible for me it is to show such a letter to my mother. By his strange unguarded manner of writing, which he does not consider, he defeats his own purposes. For if any use could be made of that part of his letter relative to Miss B, I could not show my mother part without letting her see the whole. But that is not to be done, and I can only thank my good fortune that I receive this, and the last letter from him without her knowledge. I will now give you my answer to this letter, which I wrote by the return of the post. To George from Sydney. Dear brother, I thank you for your condolments, but can assure you my heart is not in such a situation as to require any. I own. I had all the esteem for Mr. Falkland which I thought his merit deserved. Duty to my good mother, and an undeniable blemish in his character, first wrought a change in my sentiments towards him. My own peace of mind now requires me to improve that change into indifference. You do me justice in supposing that I should never think of seeking a husband, and you have formed as right a judgment in regard to Lady Grimston's being the promoter of this union. As for Mr. Arnold, though perhaps had I never known your friend, he might not have been the man of my choice, yet I have no dislike of him. I believe him to be a very worthy gentleman, and that my mother has not been partial in her representations. I am sure at least she has said nothing of him, but what she has seen or been told, and has good reason to believe. I wish, dear brother, you had writ with more caution, that I might have laid before my mother what you said in relation to Miss B. It may have its weight with me, though I cannot answer for it having any with her. Do you forget her having told me that she conceived a sort of horror at the thoughts of my marrying Mr. Falkland? She cannot but be sensible that Miss B is not without her share of blame in that affair, which has so perplexed us all, but you know too that does not exculpate Mr. Falkland. The young ladies relinquishing her hopes for a claim I think she does not make would only the more excite my mother's compassion and interest her in her favour. To sum up the whole in one word, my mother is resolved, and you yourself acknowledge that her will is absolute. She has used the most irresistible arguments to obtain my consent, that is, that it would make her happy. Spare, then, my dear brother, unkind reflections on any part of my behaviour, for I am determined to pursue through life that rule of conduct which I have hitherto invariably adhered to. I mean that of preferring to my own the happiness of those who are most dear to me. I am, etc. Mr. Arnold has so many advocates here that his interest cannot fail of being promoted. Mrs. Veer admires him, the Dean commends him, my mother praises him, Lady Grimstone extols him to the skies. No one is silent, but the young girl that I mentioned to you before, she only colours and hangs down her head when he is spoken of. I really begin to fear that the poor thing loves him, but he never made any addresses to her, and I hope does not suspect it. Things are now gone so far that my mother and Lady Grimstone talk to-day of settlements. Mr. Arnold receives but twelve hundred pounds a year from his estate, his brother's widow, as I've already told you, having a jointure upon it of three hundred pounds a year. She lives entirely in London, and is, I am told, a very imprudent woman, and not at all esteemed by the family. The elder Mr. Arnold and she were married several years, but never had a child. The last two years of his life, his wife and he lived separate, her conduct having given room, for some suspicions very injurious to her husband's honour. The Arnold estate was originally a very considerable one, but has been dissipated by the extravagance of the successive possessors. What remains, however, is quite clear, and is likely to be kept so, by the good management of the present owner. His late brother was exceedingly remiss in his affairs, and spent most of his time in London, and if it had not been for Mr. Arnold, the mansion house would have fallen to the ground. But his brother lent it to him, and he kept it in repair for his own use, as he is fond of the place, though he has a pretty house in Kent, belonging to another estate, of about £300 a year which came to him by his mother, for he is the son of a second marriage. And this, till his brother's death was the whole of his income, but he is so good an economist that he always made a gentler figure on his £300 a year than his brother did on twelve. My mother, who you know is integrity itself, thinks that I ought not to have more settled on me than the widow of Mr. Arnold's brother had, whose fortune was superior to mine. Mr. Arnold makes a much handsomer proposal. Lady Grimstone is for laying hold of it. The dean was for striking a medium. I do not care how they settle it, but I fancy my mother will have her own way in this. She purposes going to town next week, that the wedding, bless me, whose wedding is it that I am talking of so coolly? Well, that it may be celebrated in her own house. This, to be sure, will send Sir George directly out of it. I cannot help it. I am born to give, and to receive, vexation. Mr. Arnold speaks of taking a house in London, where my mother is to have an apartment whenever she chooses to be in town. This is a pleasing circumstance to me, and she likewise proposes our being sometimes with her at Sydney Castle. That is a prospect which loses much of its charms by the reflection that my dear Cecilia is not there. October the 1st. All preliminaries are settled. There has been a fuss with parchments this week past. My mother has carried her point in regard to the jointure, and has made a choice of that little estate in Kent to be settled on me, as it is a complete three hundred pounds a year detached entirely from the rest, and has a pretty house on it. This was all she would accept of, though to do Mr. Arnold just as he would have been much more liberal, but my mother says, a single woman bred in retirement as I have been, who cannot live on that, does not deserve to live at all. Adding, that as the estate was already subject to one jointure in the widow so young a woman, if it should be also my misfortune to become one early, a great part of the fortune would be swallowed by dowagers, and the heir not to have enough to support his rank. October the 2nd. This morning my mother, Lady Grimstone, the Dean and Mr. Arnold, who is the idol of them all, took a rumbling together in the old coach by way of taking the heir in a dusty road, and what do you think was the result of their deliberations in this jaunt? Why truly? Lady Grimstone, proud of her handiwork, would need see it accomplished, and nothing will serve her, but I must be married at her house. My mother opposed it at first, but the Dean seconded the proposal that he might have, as he expressed himself, the satisfaction of contributing himself to make Mr. Arnold happy. And Mr. Arnold, audaciously expecting I suppose that this would hasten the ceremony, joined his entreaty so effectually that my mother was obliged to yield. What a tormenting old woman is this Lady Grimstone! I hope at least for the respite of a month by getting to London. I thought first to have delayed the time of our going to town, and then to have faddled away a good while longer under pretense of preparations, though there is but little room for that now as all my finalries, destined I thought to another purpose, are lying quietly in my trunks at home. But then one might have contrived many little occasions of delay. There was a house to be fixed upon, and I had twenty things to do, and as my mother says, many things fall out between the cup and the lip. But all my expectations have blown away, and I have but one poor fortnight given me to recollect my scattered thoughts, when they are all to be centred in Mr. Arnold. I am not merry, my Cecilia, but I am determined not to appear sad. Neither am I so! I hope I have no reason. My mother purposes writing again to Sir George to desire his presence at my marriage. I hope he will behave respectfully to everyone there if he should come. October the fifth. Mr. Arnold has ripped to town to bespeak a new chariot. He will do nothing in regard to the house till I am on the spot to please myself. I intend sending Patty to town to bring me down my bridal trappings. Mr. Arnold has given some necessary orders for the new decking of his person, as well as some of the apartments in the old mansion house, which seem a little to want refurnishing. Most of the goods having been inhabitants there since the time of his great-grandfather. October the ninth. My mother's last letter to Sir George has produced the following answer, which he sent by Patty when she returned down here with my clothes. To Dorothy from George. Madam, I am sorry I cannot accept of the invitation you favour me with to be present at my sister's nuptials. Some affairs in Wiltshire require my immediate attendance, and I had settled matters before I received your summons, so as to set out, as on this day. I wish you all imaginable satisfaction in your new son-in-law, and my sister abundance of happiness in her spouse. I am Madam, etc. London October the eighth. I am glad Sir George does not come down. I am sure if he did his behaviour would be such as would render him no very acceptable guest at Grimstone Hall. A week, but a short week to come before my fate is irrevocably fixed, or irrevocable only by the hand of death. This reflection, solemn as it is, does not alarm me, because after again calling my heart to the strictest account, I think I can pronounce it entirely free. Mr. Arnold will soon have an indisputable right to it, and it is my firm purpose to use my utmost endeavours to give him entire possession of it. He every day gains upon my esteem. If his talents are not so glittering as I have seen some others possessed of, he is nevertheless master of an exceedingly good understanding, which a sort of diffidence in his manner does not suffer him to show at once to the best advantage. His temper is extremely sweet, and he seems to have an openness of heart, when he throws off a little shyness, which he has contracted, that is exceedingly engaging. His love for me appears as fervent as I believe it's sincere, and I should be ungrateful not to do my utmost to return it. October the 14th. How precipitous has been my fortune! Twice within these three months have I been almost at the even of my intended naturals. Those which were to have been, I thought as certain as those which are now to be solemnised within two days. Who knows what may still happen to frustrate our present designs. No, there is not another Miss B to interpose. Mr Arnold seems to be one of those who are born to pass quietly through life. He is already attained to the age of thirty without one event ever happening to him, but such has happened to every man every day. May no future storm ever interrupt his or my tranquillity, for they will soon be one and the same thing. October the 16th. The die is thrown, my Cecilia, and thy Sidney is the wife of Mr Arnold. This day we were married. The good dean joined our hands and his daughter was one of my bridesmaids. The poor girl was taken ill during the ceremony, and was obliged to leave the church, which has confirmed me in my suspicions. Oh, how I pity her! I believe indeed she only feigned illness for an excuse to retire. Mrs Veer went out with her, but she would not suffer her to attend her home. She promised to dine with us if she should be better, and so she did, and seemed cheerful and pretty well, but I thought she looked as if she'd been crying. She made my heart ache, but I am in hopes it is but a slight wound. She is exceedingly lively, and I daresay she will soon get the better of it. Lady Grimstone was downright tiresome with her compliments, and preached an hour long about the duty of children to their parents, and how good a wife that woman was likely to make who had always been exemplary in her filial obedience. Ah, Lady Grimstone thought I! By what I have heard of you, you did not seem to number obedience among wife-like virtues in your own case, though you can preach it up to others. But I knew this sermon was chiefly intended for poor Mrs Veer's use. My mother was all kindness and complacency. She seemed so delighted that I rejoiced in having had it in my power to give her so much happiness. Lady Grimstone did the honours of her house on this occasion with great magnificence, and I believe I need not tell you with most exquisite decorum. Indeed, this wedding was conducted with such decent festivity, so rationally on all sides and such a comfortable privacy, that I was not half so much shocked as I expected to have been. We have no company here besides the family of the house. My dear good old Dean, his lady and daughter, one young lady more, and a relation of Mr Arnold's, a gentleman who came from London on purpose to be present on this, as it is called, joyful occasion. We shall leave this house tomorrow, Mr Arnold and I, I mean. I am to be put into possession of the old mansion of Arnold Abbey. My mother is to continue with Lady Grimstone a week or a fortnight longer, and then she goes to London, on no other call, as she says, but to see and administer comfort to poor Miss B, who, she supposes, will be by that time come to her retreat. I believe I shall remain in the country while the weather continues pleasant, but am not yet determined. October the 17th, we took leave of Lady Grimstone this morning, or rather, of her house, for her ladyship, my dear mother, and all the good folks that were our guests at Grimstone Hall, are to dine with us today at Arnold Abbey. I desired I might be permitted to go home without any parade, and in as private a manner as possible, for you know how I hate a bustle. Mr. Arnold very obligingly indulged me in this request, and conducted my sweet Mrs. Veer and me home in his own coach, at eight o'clock this morning. I found everything in exact order at Arnold Abbey. The house is very spacious and convenient, though very old fashioned. Some of the rooms, however, are newly fitted up, perfectly neat and handsome. The servants are orderly and well behaved, and everything seems to be exactly well regulated. You may be sure I have taken my own patty home with me. I intend to constitute her housekeeper, and give her an additional salary for her additional trouble. Mr. Arnold had nobody in that capacity before, as his household had not been settled since the acquisition of his fortune, and he reserved the choosing of so material domestic to me. But, as I do not love to multiply servants, and know that patty is very capable of the place, I shall take no other. October 21st Visitors are still in abundance, all the gentry in the neighbourhood for some miles about have been to pay us their compliments. At least I hope by this time they have all been here, for we have not had a minute to ourselves these three days. It will take me up ten to return them, as many of the families live at a good distance from hence. Mr. Arnold, whose mourning has been laid aside since our wedding day, seems to have a very good taste in dress. He is perfectly well shaped, and appears to great advantage in colours. In short, he is more amiable than I thought he was. It is with great pleasure that I observe my young acquaintance, on whose heart I feared Mr. Arnold had made an impression, has recovered her usual vivacity. With people extremely full of spirits, love is not apt to sink very deep, or last long when it does not meet with a return. October 30th My mother sets out for London tomorrow, and Mr. Arnold has proposed to me, that he and I should accompany her. He says he wants to look out for a house, and should like to fix in one before the winter advances, and that we may take up our abode at my mother's, till our house is ready for us. My mother is charmed at this proposal, she dreads the thought of parting with me, and as she intends going after a convenient stay in London, down to Sydney Castle, if I remain here, our separation must be immediate. I know this is Mr. Arnold's kind reason for desiring me to go. He thinks I should be less affected at parting with my mother, when in the midst of the various scenes which London affords, then I should be if I were to continue here. He gives not this for a reason, but I know it is his true one, for he is not fond of London himself, especially at a season of the year when the country is so much more agreeable. I thank him for this mark of his tenderness, and am determined to go. October 31st Once more return to London in very good spirits, after a stay of little more than two months in Essex, in which time so material and unexpected a change has been made in my condition. Lady Grimston took a most affectionate leave of my mother, and asked her, with more tenderness than I thought her capable of, how many ages it would be before we should meet again. As for Mr. Arnold and me, she considers us as her neighbours. The Dean pleases himself with that expectation too, and the dear Mrs. Veer, who shed tears at bidding me adieu, promises herself the happiness as she kindly expressed herself of spending many delightful days with me next summer. She set out on her return to her own house at the same time that we left ours to go to town. My brother is still in Wiltshire, but I find he did not leave town at the time he mentioned in his letter to my mother, nor for some days after. This Patti learned from the servants, but I hope it will not come to my mother's ears, for she would take it extremely ill of him. Mr. Arnold, for the first time, mentioned that he was very much disappointed in not having had the honour of seeing Sir George at his house in the country, but he hoped, when he came to town, his brother and he should make up for this by being them all together. I wish Sir George may behave as your to this deserving brother. Mr. Arnold little imagines how much he was an enemy to the match, and much less the reason for it. I should be very sorry, Mr. Arnold, were to know how near I was being married to another man. It might give a delicate mind pain, lest there should remain any traces of this former attachment in the breast of a woman he loves. But I hope there is no danger of his hearing of it. Certainly no one would be so indiscreetest to mention it to him. Mr. Arnold has lived chiefly in the country, and may never have heard of Mr. Falkland, as he was so short a time returned from his travels, on which he had been absent more than five years, and as he is now out of the kingdom, probably he will not be spoken of. I have begged of my mother, who is naturally communicative, never to name Mr. Falkland to Mr. Arnold, and have given my reasons for desiring this. She says she thinks it would be better to tell him the whole affair at once, but I cannot agree with her in that opinion, and have at last prevailed on her to promise me she will not speak of it. Section 11 of Memoirs of Miss Sydney Bidoff This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Memoirs of Miss Sydney Bidoff by Francis Sheridan. Volume 1 continued. November the 2nd. My mother drove out in my new chariot today a very fine gay one it is, and went to Putney to inquire after Miss B by the name of Mrs. Jeffress. She soon found the house, a very neat box with a pretty garden behind it. The door was opened by a servant maid, and my mother, being told the lady was at home, sent in her name, and was immediately conducted by stairs into a very elegant little dressing room, where the lady was sitting at her toilette, and Mr. Falkland's housekeeper, whom my mother had seen before, assisting to dress her head. On my mother's entering the room, Miss B rose off her chair and soon discovered by her shape, for she was without her stays, that it was high time for her to seek a place of concealment. The housekeeper immediately withdrew, and the young lady seemed in the utmost confusion. My mother says she herself was at a loss how to begin the conversation, but Miss B relieved her and spoke first. She thanked her for the honour she did her by so charitable a visit, which, she said, Mr. Falkland had long ago made her hope for, and which she must consider as the greatest consolation in her present unhappy circumstances. My mother placed herself by her. Madam, said she, Mr. Falkland made it a point with me before he left England, that I should see you, and afford you all the assistance in my power, or that you should stand in need of. Who seemed to be conmodiously situated here, and, I understand, have a very careful good woman to attend you? I have so, Madam, she answered, but the most material circumstance is wanted to my relief. Mr. Falkland, he is not here. Tears started into her eyes as she spoke. You were apprised of his absence, said my mother, before you came to town. I was, Madam, and with the cause of it. She hung down her head and was silent. My mother re-assumed the conversation. She told her she thought it a most providential discovery that had given her, the knowledge of Mr. Falkland's ill behaviour, time enough to prevent his marriage with her daughter. Assuring her she would not for the universe have had me, the wife, of a man under such ties as she must consider Mr. Falkland to be. Miss Bee brightened up a little upon my mother, saying this, Did Mr. Falkland ever tell you, Madam, how the unhappy affair happened, My mother told her she knew not particulars that she had been referred to her for a full explanation, that Mr. Falkland had always endeavoured to excuse himself and went so far as to say he was sure the lady herself would acquit him in a great measure. Ah, Madam! Miss Bee cried and shook her head. Tears, as I expected, said my mother, Mr. Falkland is an ungenerous man. A young lady of your modest appearance, I am sure, he must have taken more pains to seduce than he will acknowledge. Miss Bee blushed exceedingly. Oh, Madam, you have a charitable, generous heart. I was indeed seduced. I knew it would be so. Did he promise to marry you? She coloured deeper than before. I will not accuse him of that, Madam. My mother proceeded. You have a relation, Madam. I understand she was the accessory to your misfortune. Yes, the barbarous woman, answered the lady. She was the contriver of my destruction. And if I could have avoided it, I would never have seen her face again. Tears of grief and indignation again burst from her eyes. Have comfort, Madam, said my mother. All may end well yet. I can have no hopes, answered Miss Bee. Mr. Falkland flies, may you see, nor can I ever expect to recover his heart, since so charming a young lady as I hear Miss Bidolph is, has possession of it. And though your goodness disappointed him in his late views, he may not yet despair. I found by this continued, my mother, that Miss Bee knew nothing of your being married, and made haste to tell her. I never saw joy so visible in accountants. She clasped her hands together. Dear Madam, what do you tell me? How you revive my drooping heart? Then I am not quite homeless. There is a possibility in my favour. She then asked my mother if Mr. Falkland had acquainted her with her real name or that of her relation. My mother, who had once or twice called her by the name of Jeffers, assured her he had not. That was generous of him, said she. He can be generous in some points, but I have no reason to conceal it from so prudent and worthy a lady as you are. My real name is Birchel. That of my cruel relation I will forbear to mention out of respect to my good uncle, whose wife she is. Mr. Falkland, she added, left a bill of five hundred pounds with his housekeeper to provide everything for me that I could want with assurances that he would take the tenderest care of the poor young creature hesitated and could proceed no farther, but my mother said she understood her meaning. They had a good deal more discourse. My mother promised to see her often during her confinement and took her leave. She tells me she is exceedingly pretty and has such an air of innocence and simplicity as very much engages one in her favour. I have set down this whole conversation with every other particular exactly as my mother related it. She, who has a most circumstantial memory, repeated it word for word, and I, from a custom of throwing upon paper everything that occurs to me, have abituated myself to retain the minutest things. I know not, my dear, whether you will be of my opinion, but I cannot help thinking that there was something like art in Miss Birchel's behaviour far from that candour which Mr. Falkland seemed to expect from her. My mother mentioned the pains that she supposed had been taken to seducer. The deep blush at this hint makes me suspect that her answer was not dictated by sincerity. She saw my mother was not acquainted with particulars and that she was willing to pass a favourable judgement on her fault. It looks to me as if she laid hold of this prejudice and yet she owned that Mr. Falkland had never promised to marry her. I know not what to think, but there appears to me upon the whole something evasive and disingenuous in her conduct. My mother, who is all openness and integrity, saw it not in this light, but be it as it may, it is no longer of consequence to me, which was most to blame, the gentleman or the lady. Miss Birchel is certainly the injured person. Perhaps I too may have wronged her in my surmises. If I have, I beg her pardon. The observations I have made on her behaviour are only en passant and I do from my heart wish Mr. Falkland would make her his wife. You may perceive from what I have told you how little this interview was likely to produce in Mr. Falkland's favour had it even been brought about sooner. My mother is now more than ever confirmed in her opinion that the poor young creature has been deceived and she prays that Mr. Falkland may not be overtaken with a judgement, which she thinks nothing but his marrying the girl can avert. November the 10th. We have at length a fixed upon a house to our liking, a handsome, convenient one in St. James Street. We are preparing to get it furnished as fast as we can that we may go into it for if my brother should come to town I know our being with my mother will be an objection to his lodging in her house. This I should be sorry for for. She told him he might make use of it while it remained in her hands. November the 15th. Thank my stars. I've got over the fatigue of receiving and paying a second round of bridal visits and I am really so tired of it that uninviting as the season is I could wish myself in quiet at Arnold Abbey but I cannot think of leaving London while my mother continues in it and she is now resolved to do so till Miss Birchell or rather on this occasion Mrs. Jeffers is brought to bed. You can't imagine how solicitous she is about her. Every time she sees her she seems more and more pleased with her. I'm very glad it has happened so for the poor young woman's sake. My mother is as warm in her attachments as in her resentments. She visits her almost every second day for the poor thing it seems is ill at present and can't leave her chamber. She tells me she is extremely melancholy and seems to much dread the approaching hour. I greatly honour my good mother for her humanity towards her. In her terrifying situation she must want the tenderness of a well-bred as well as a sensible friend for it must be a melancholy thing in such circumstances to have no one about her but servants and those strangers too. She told my mother that her altered looks and frequent sicknesses gave her aunt who was privy to the cause of it all a pretense for asking her uncle's permission for Miss to go to Bath which she told him would do her more good than anything. He consented and supposed she was actually gone with her under the care of a lady whom her aunt named who was really going there in order to settle for life and to whose house she went for a day or two to give colour to the story. Her aunt contrived that she should not take any servant with her giving it for a reason that as she might be as well attended by the lady's servants with whom she lodged and be considered by her as one of the family a maid would only be an unnecessary encumbrance. She added that her uncle was so afflicted with the gout that he never stirred abroad and saw very little company so that it was not likely he should ever be undeceived. November the 20th We have just received a very odd piece of news that I own has a little alarmed me. It is that the widow of Mr Arnold's brother is fanged to be with child. There was no mention of this at the time her husband died nor indeed any cause to suspect it but the strongest presumptions in the world to the contrary as her husband and she lived apart. It has not been even whispered till since our arrival in town the lady pretends that she was not conscious of it herself till within this fortnight yet her husband has been dead for months. This I am told is very possible though not very common. She has herself wrote a letter to Mr Arnold to inform him of it at the same time declaring that she and her late husband had been reconciled a little before his death and that had he recovered she was to have lived with him again. All this is very strange. The elder Mr Arnold killed himself with excessive drinking his death approached him by slow degrees but as he could never be persuaded to think it near he took not the least care either of his spiritual or temporal concerns. His brother was in the country when he was seized with his last illness which he had precipitated by some extravagant excess. He was almost at the last extremity before he could be prevailed on to let a physician attend him or suffer his brother to be sent for. In regard to the latter he told those about him that as he was his heir of course he had made no will. He mentioned not his wife the jointure which had been settled on her and very loud her for a separate maintenance. They had for a long time pursued separate pleasures and not of his friends knew that they had ever met or so much a seen one another from the time they parted. My Mr Arnold arrived in town just time enough to close his brother's eyes. He was speechless when he came and expired in less than an hour after he entered his chamber. As his wife had been very obnoxious to the family there was little notice taken of her by them more than what common forms require. She seemed as indifferent about the death of her husband as she had been towards him in his lifetime and did not then hint a word of this reconciliation between them or of her having had an interview with him. I am told she is very weak as well as a very loose woman that Mr Arnold thinks she has got into the hands of some designing person. However that matter may be it is a serious affair and he designs to take the opinion of an eminent lawyer upon it. My poor dear mother is frightened sadly. If this child should make its appearance in the world time enough to prove the possibility of its being the offspring of the late Mr Arnold she says it must be considered by the law as his heir not withstanding the husband and wife living apart. Mr Arnold laughs or affects to laugh at this. We shall however wait with patience till the lady is brought to bed. November the 25th Our house is entirely fitted up and we shall remove into it this evening. My mother chooses to continue in her own though Mr Arnold presses her to accept of an apartment in ours but we shall be near neighbours and she does not like to change. We have received the opinion of our lawyers who tell us that in case the child should be born within such a period of time as to give colour to its claim yet the lady must prove her assertion in regard to the pretended meeting between her and her husband which it is imagined is not in her power to do and her indifferent character together with several favourable circumstances which Mr Arnold has on his side makes them quite sanguine in their expectations of overturning her claim. We are however likely to be engaged in a disagreeable lawsuit but as Mr Arnold seems perfectly easy about the issue of it I will make myself so too. December the 10th I am more and more reconciled to my lot, my dear Cecilia, every day that I live. Mr Arnold's assiduity and tenderness towards me deserve the gratefulest return my heart can make him and I am convinced it is not necessary to be passionately in love with the man we marry to make us happy. Constancy, good sense and a sweet temper must form a basis for a durable felicity. The two latter I am sure Mr Arnold possesses. Oh, may I never experience his want of the former. I hope my own conduct will forever insure to me his love. That can only secure the tranquility of my future days. December the 11th My brother arrived in town last night and came this morning in company with my mother and I am sure at her request to make us a form of visit. My kind Mr Arnold received him with tenderness. Sir George was coldly polite. He owned, however, to my mother upon her asking him his opinion of his brother-in-law that he seemed to be a good clever sort of a fellow. I wish I could cultivate a friendship between them. It will not be Mr Arnold's fault if there is not, but Sir George, you know, is not of a very pliant disposition. He asked my mother when they were alone whether she had yet seen Miss B or Mrs Jeffers for he knew her not by any other name and what she had to say for herself. My mother told him he had better not touch upon that string. I will be hanged, replied Sir George, if the artful young baggage is not imposed upon you. My mother, who was always angry at having her sagacity called in question, told Sir George he was rude and she should give him no satisfaction on that head. My brother answered as it was now of no consequence what the wench affirmed or denied he had no father curiosity about her. My mother called him a bear and so the inquiry ended. December the 20th. I congratulate you, my sister, my friend and my ever-beloved Cecilia. Happy, happy may you be in your nuptials. But in the midst of my joy for your being so nobly and worthily bestowed self-love forces aside from me. I have lost the pleasing hope of seeing you at the time fixed for your return. The station your husband holds in the court of Vienna will I feel long detain my beloved in a foreign land. But you are not among strangers. A husband, a brother and tender parent must make every part of the globe equally your home. I will therefore seek for my contentment in yours and rest satisfied with believing that you will always continue to love me. End of section 11