Churchhill.Little did I imagine, my dear Mother, when I sent off my last letter,that the delightful perturbation of spirits I was then in would undergo sospeedy, so melancholy a reverse. I never can sufficiently regret that Iwrote to you at all. Yet who could have foreseen what has happened? My dearmother, every hope which made me so happy only two hours ago has vanished.The quarrel between Lady Susan and Reginald is made up, and we are all aswe were before. One point only is gained. Sir James Martin is dismissed.What are we now to look forward to? I am indeed disappointed; Reginald wasall but gone, his horse was ordered and all but brought to the door; whowould not have felt safe? For half an hour I was in momentary expectationof his departure. After I had sent off my letter to you, I went to Mr.Vernon, and sat with him in his room talking over the whole matter, andthen determined to look for Frederica, whom I had not seen since breakfast.I met her on the stairs, and saw that she was crying. "My dear aunt," saidshe, "he is going--Mr. De Courcy is going, and it is all my fault. I amafraid you will be very angry with me. but indeed I had no idea it wouldend so." "My love," I replied, "do not think it necessary to apologize tome on that account. I shall feel myself under an obligation to anyone whois the means of sending my brother home, because," recollecting myself, "Iknow my father wants very much to see him. But what is it you have done tooccasion all this?" She blushed deeply as she answered: "I was so unhappyabout Sir James that I could not help--I have done something very wrong, Iknow; but you have not an idea of the misery I have been in: and mamma hadordered me never to speak to you or my uncle about it, and--" "Youtherefore spoke to my brother to engage his interference," said I, to saveher the explanation. "No, but I wrote to him--I did indeed, I got up thismorning before it was light, and was two hours about it; and when my letterwas done I thought I never should have courage to give it. After breakfasthowever, as I was going to my room, I met him in the passage, and then, asI knew that everything must depend on that moment, I forced myself to giveit. He was so good as to take it immediately. I dared not look at him, andran away directly. I was in such a fright I could hardly breathe. My dearaunt, you do not know how miserable I have been." " Frederica" said I,"you ought to have told me all your distresses. You would have found in mea friend always ready to assist you. Do you think that your uncle or Ishould not have espoused your cause as warmly as my brother?" "Indeed, Idid not doubt your kindness," said she, colouring again, "but I thought Mr.De Courcy could do anything with my mother; but I was mistaken: they havehad a dreadful quarrel about it, and he is going away. Mamma will neverforgive me, and I shall be worse off than ever." "No, you shall not," Ireplied; "in such a point as this your mother's prohibition ought not tohave prevented your speaking to me on the subject. She has no right to makeyou unhappy, and she shall not do it. Your applying, however, to Reginaldcan be productive only of good to all parties. I believe it is best as itis. Depend upon it that you shall not be made unhappy any longer." At thatmoment how great was my amonishment at seeing Reginald come out of LadySusan's dressing-room. My heart misgave me instantly. His confusion atseeing me was very evident. Frederica immediately disappeared. "Are yougoing?" I said; "you will find Mr. Vernon in his own room." "No,Catherine," he replied, "I am not going. Will you let me speak to you amoment?" We went into my room. "I find," he continued, his confusionincreasing as he spoke, "that I have been acting with my usual foolishimpetuosity. I have entirely misunderstood Lady Susan, and was on the pointof leaving the house under a false impression of her conduct. There hasbeen some very great mistake; we have been all mistaken, I fancy. Fredericadoes not know her mother. Lady Susan means nothing but her good, but shewill not make a friend of her. Lady Susan does not always know, therefore,what will make her daughter happy. Besides, I could have no right tointerfere. Miss Vernon was mistaken in applying to me. In short, Catherine,everything has gone wrong, but it is now all happily settled. Lady Susan, Ibelieve, wishes to speak to you about it, if you are at leisure.""Certainly," I replied, deeply sighing at the recital of so lame a story. Imade no comments, however, for words would have been vain.Reginald was glad to get away, and I went to Lady Susan, curious,indeed, to hear her account of it. "Did I not tell you," said she with asmile, "that your brother would not leave us after all?" "You did, indeed,"replied I very gravely; "but I flattered myself you would be mistaken." "Ishould not have hazarded such an opinion," returned she, "if it had not atthat moment occurred to me that his resolution of going might beoccasioned by a conversation in which we had been this morning engaged, andwhich had ended very much to his dissatisfaction, from our not rightlyunderstanding each other's meaning. This idea struck me at the moment, andI instantly determined that an accidental dispute, in which I mightprobably be as much to blame as himself, should not deprive you of yourbrother. If you remember, I left the room almost immediately. I wasresolved to lose no time in clearing up those mistakes as far as I could.The case was this--Frederica had set herself violently against marrying SirJames." "And can your ladyship wonder that she should?" cried I with somewarmth; "Frederica has an excellent understanding, and Sir James has none.""I am at least very far from regretting it, my dear sister," said she; "onthe contrary, I am grateful for so favourable a sign of my daughter'ssense. Sir James is certainly below par (his boyish manners make him appearworse); and had Frederica possessed the penetration and the abilities whichI could have wished in my daughter, or had I even known her to possess asmuch as she does, I should not have been anxious for the match." "It is oddthat you should alone be ignorant of your daughter's sense!" "Fredericanever does justice to herself; her manners are shy and childish, andbesides she is afraid of me. During her poor father's life she was a spoiltchild; the severity which it has since been necessary for me to show hasalienated her affection; neither has she any of that brilliancy ofintellect, that genius or vigour of mind which will force itself forward.""Say rather that she has been unfortunate in her education!" "Heaven knows,my dearest Mrs. Vernon, how fully I am aware of that; but I would wish toforget every circumstance that might throw blame on the memory of one whosename is sacred with me." Here she pretended to cry; I was out of patiencewith her. "But what," said I, "was your ladyship going to tell me aboutyour disagreement with my brother?" "It originated in an action of mydaughter's, which equally marks her want of judgment and the unfortunatedread of me I have been mentioning--she wrote to Mr. De Courcy." "I knowshe did; you had forbidden her speaking to Mr. Vernon or to me on the causeof her distress; what could she do, therefore, but apply to my brother?""Good God!" she exclaimed, "what an opinion you must have of me! Can youpossibly suppose that I was aware of her unhappiness! that it was my objectto make my own child miserable, and that I had forbidden her speaking toyou on the subject from a fear of your interrupting the diabolical scheme?Do you think me destitute of every honest, every natural feeling? Am Icapable of consigning her to everlasting: misery whose welfare it is myfirst earthly duty to promote? The idea is horrible!" "What, then, was yourintention when you insisted on her silence?" "Of what use, my dear sister,could be any application to you, however the affair might stand? Why shouldI subject you to entreaties which I refused to attend to myself? Neitherfor your sake nor for hers, nor for my own, could such a thing bedesirable. When my own resolution was taken I could nor wish for theinterference, however friendly, of another person. I was mistaken, it istrue, but I believed myself right." "But what was this mistake to whichyour ladyship so often alludes! from whence arose so astonishing amisconception of your daughter's feelings! Did you not know that shedisliked Sir James?" "I knew that he was not absolutely the man she wouldhave chosen, but I was persuaded that her objections to him did not arisefrom any perception of his deficiency. You must not question me, however,my dear sister, too minutely on this point," continued she, taking meaffectionately by the hand; "I honestly own that there is something toconceal. Frederica makes me very unhappy! Her applying to Mr. De Courcyhurt me particularly." "What is it you mean to infer," said I, " by thisappearance of mystery? If you think your daughter at all attached toReginald, her objecting to Sir James could not less deserve to be attendedto than if the cause of her objecting had been a consciousness of his folly; and why should your ladyship, at any rate, quarrel with my brother for aninterference which, you must know, it is not in his nature to refuse whenurged in such a manner?""His disposition, you know, is warm, and he came to expostulate with me;his compassion all alive for this ill-used girl, this heroine in distress!We misunderstood each other: he believed me more to blame than I reallywas; I considered his interference less excusable than I now find it. Ihave a real regard for him, and was beyond expression mortified to findit, as I thought, so ill bestowed We were both warm, and of course both toblame. His resolution of leaving Churchhill is consistent with his generaleagerness. When I understood his intention, however, and at the same timebegan to think that we had been perhaps equally mistaken in each other'smeaning, I resolved to have an explanation before it was too late. For anymember of your family I must always feel a degree of affection, and I ownit would have sensibly hurt me if my acquaintance with Mr. De Courcy hadended so gloomily. I have now only to say further, that as I am convincedof Frederica's having a reasonable dislike to Sir James, I shall instantlyinform him that he must give up all hope of her. I reproach myself forhaving even, though innocently, made her unhappy on that score. She shallhave all the retribution in my power to make; if she value her ownhappiness as much as I do, if she judge wisely, and command herself as sheought, she may now be easy. Excuse me, my dearest sister, for thustrespassing on your time, but I owe it to my own character; and after thisexplanation I trust I am in no danger of sinking in your opinion." I couldhave said, "Not much, indeed!" but I left her almost in silence. It wasthe greatest stretch of forbearance I could practise. I could not havestopped myself had I begun. Her assurance! her deceit! but I will not allowmyself to dwell on them; they will strike you sufficiently. My heartsickens within me. As soon as I was tolerably composed I returned to theparlour. Sir James's carriage was at the door, and he, merry as usual, soonafterwards took his leave. How easily does her ladyship encourage ordismiss a lover! In spite of this release, Frederica still looks unhappy:still fearful, perhaps, of her mother's anger; and though dreading mybrother's departure, jealous, it may be, of his staying. I see how closelyshe observes him and Lady Susan, poor girl! I have now no hope for her.There is not a chance of her affection being returned. He thinks verydifferently of her from what he used to do; he does her some justice, buthis reconciliation with her mother precludes every dearer hope. Prepare, mydear mother, for the worst! The probability of their marrying is surelyheightened! He is more securely hers than ever. When that wretched eventtakes place, Frederica must belong wholly to us. I am thankful that my lastletter will precede this by so little, as every moment that you can besaved from feeling a joy which leads only to disappointment is ofconsequence.Yours ever, &c.,CATHERINE VERNON.