You must be contented not to stay here above two or three hours.  I shall tell you my reason when you come.  And pray inform yourself of all that your father will do on this occasion, that you may tell it me only; therefore let it be plainly and sincerely what he intends and all.

I will not hinder your coming away so much as the making this letter a little longer might take away from your time in reading it.  ’Tis enough to tell you I am ever

Yours.

CHAPTER VII

THE END OF THE THIRD VOLUME

This short series of notes was written, I think, during a visit to London after the formal betrothal and before the marriage.  These notes were evidently written upon the trivial occasions of the day, more perhaps for the sake of writing something than for any more serious reason.  The note in French is somewhat of a curiosity on account of its quaint orthography, which is purposely left uncorrected.  Was Dorothy in London to purchase her trousseau?  Where did she and Jane spend their days, if that was the case, when Regent Street was green fields?  These questions cannot be satisfactorily answered; but the notes themselves, without any history or explanation, are so full of interest, so fresh and vivacious, even for Dorothy, that they place themselves from the freedom and joy of their style and manner at the end of the third volume.

You are like to have an excellent housewife of me; I am abed still, and slept so soundly, nothing but your letter could have waked me.  You shall hear from me as soon as we have dined.  Farewell; can you endure that word?  No, out upon’t.  I’ll see you anon.

Fye upon’t I shall grow too good now, I am taking care to know how your worship slept to-night; better I hope than you did the last.  Send me word how you do, and don’t put me off with a bit of a note now; you could write me a fine long letter when I did not deserve it half so well.

You are mistaken if you think I am in debt for both these days.  Saturday I confess was devoted to my Lady; but yesterday, though I ris with good intentions of going to church, my cold would not suffer me, but kept me prisoner all the day.  I went to your lodging to tell you that visiting the sick was part of the work of the day, but you were gone, and so I went to bed again, where your letter found me this morning.  But now I will rise and despatch some visits that I owe, that to-morrow may be entirely yours.

I find my conscience a little troubled till I have asked your pardon for my ill-humour last night.  Will you forgive it me; in earnest, I could not help it, but I met with a cure for it; my brother kept me up to hear his learned lecture till after two o’clock, and I spent all my ill-humour upon him, and yet we parted very quietly, and look’d as if a little good fortune might make us good friends; but your special friend, my elder brother, I have a story to tell you of him.  Will my cousin F. come, think you?  Send me word, it maybe ’twas a compliment; if I can see you this morning I will, but I dare not promise it.