“All other carrioles, at sight of this,
  Hide their diminish’d heads.”

Your brother’s and Fitzgerald’s will never dare to appear now; they sink into nothing.

Seven in the evening.

Emily has been in tears in her chamber; ’tis a letter of Mrs. Melmoth’s which has had this agreable effect; some wise advice, I suppose.  Lord! how I hate people that give advice! don’t you, Lucy?

I don’t like this lover’s coming; he is almost as bad as a husband:  I am afraid he will derange our little coterie; and we have been so happy, I can’t bear it.

Good night, my dear.

      Yours,
          A. Fermor.

LETTER 54.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Silleri, Jan. 14.

We have passed a mighty stupid day; Sir George is civil, attentive, and dull; Emily pensive, thoughtful, and silent; and my little self as peevish as an old maid:  nobody comes near us, not even your brother, because we are supposed to be settling preliminaries; for you must know Sir George has graciously condescended to change his mind, and will marry her, if she pleases, without waiting for his mother’s letter, which resolution he has communicated to twenty people at Quebec in his way hither; he is really extremely obliging.  I suppose the Melmoths have spirited him up to this.

One o’clock.

Emily is strangely reserved to me; she avoids seeing me alone, and when it happens talks of the weather; papa is however in her confidence:  he is as strong an advocate for this milky baronet as Mrs. Melmoth.

Ten at night.

All is over, Lucy; that is to say, all is fixed:  they are to be married on Monday next at the Recollects church, and to set off immediately for Montreal:  my father has been telling me the whole plan of operations:  we go up with them, stay a fortnight, then all come down, and show away till summer, when the happy pair embark in the first ship for England.

Emily is really what one would call a prudent pretty sort of woman, I did not think it had been in her:  she is certainly right, there is danger in delay; she has a thousand proverbs on her side; I thought what all her fine sentiments would come to; she should at least have waited for mamma’s consent; this hurry is not quite consistent with that extreme delicacy on which she piques herself; it looks exceedingly as if she was afraid of losing him.

I don’t love her half so well as I did three days ago; I hate discreet young ladies that marry and settle; give me an agreable fellow and a knapsack.

My poor Rivers! what will become of him when we are gone? he has neglected every body for us.

As she loves the pleasures of conversation, she will be amazingly happy in her choice;

  “With such a companion to spend the long day!”

He is to be sure a most entertaining creature.