’But my sympathies have been excited by a little cripple—­a niece of Lady Jocelyn’s and the favourite grand-daughter of the rich old Mrs. Bonner—­ also here—­Juliana Bonner.  Her age must be twenty.  You would take her for ten.  In spite of her immense expectations, the Jocelyns hate her.  They can hardly be civil to her.  It is the poor child’s temper.  She has already begun to watch dear Evan—­certainly the handsomest of the men here as yet, though I grant you, they are well-grown men, these Jocelyns, for an untravelled Englishwoman.  I fear, dear Harriet, we have been dreadfully deceived about Rose.  The poor child has not, in her own right, much more than a tenth part of what we supposed, I fear.  It was that Mrs. Melville.  I have had occasion to notice her quiet boasts here.  She said this morning, “when Mel is in the Ministry”—­he is not yet in Parliament!  I feel quite angry with the woman, and she is not so cordial as she might be.  I have her profile very frequently while I am conversing with her.

’With Grandmama Bonner I am excellent good friends,—­venerable silver hair, high caps, etc.  More of this most interesting Juliana Bonner by-and-by.  It is clear to me that Rose’s fortune is calculated upon the dear invalid’s death!  Is not that harrowing?  It shocks me to think of it.

’Then there is Mrs. Shorne.  She is a Jocelyn—­and such a history!  She married a wealthy manufacturer—­bartered her blood for his money, and he failed, and here she resides, a bankrupt widow, petitioning any man that may be willing for his love and a decent home.  And—­I say in charity.

’Mrs. Shorne comes here to-morrow.  She is at present with—­guess, my dear!—­with Lady Racial.  Do not be alarmed.  I have met Lady Racial.  She heard Evan’s name, and by that and the likeness I saw she knew at once, and I saw a truce in her eyes.  She gave me a tacit assurance of it—­she was engaged to dine here yesterday, and put it off—­probably to grant us time for composure.  If she comes I do not fear her.  Besides, has she not reasons?  Providence may have designed her for a staunch ally—­I will not say, confederate.

’Would that Providence had fixed this beautiful mansion five hundred
miles from L-----, though it were in a desolate region!   And that reminds
me of the Madre.   She is in health.   She always will be overbearingly
robust till the day we are bereft of her.   There was some secret in the
house when I was there, which I did not trouble to penetrate.   That
little Jane F——­ was there—­not improved.

’Pray, be firm about Torquay.  Estates mortgaged, but hopes of saving a remnant of the property.  Third son!  Don’t commit yourself there.  We dare not baronetize him.  You need not speak it—­imply.  More can be done that way.

’And remember, dear Harriet, that you must manage Andrew so that we may positively promise his vote to the Ministry on all questions when Parliament next assembles.  I understood from Lord Livelyston, that Andrew’s vote would be thought much of.  A most amusing nobleman!  He pledged himself to nothing!  But we are above such a thing as a commercial transaction.  He must countenance Silva.  Women, my dear, have sent out armies—­why not fleets?  Do not spare me your utmost aid in my extremity, my dearest sister.