’Now my story is told, and you will judge what you ought to do.  I have not mentioned the matter to my good woman, who, a faithful secretary to her sex’s foibles, would certainly remonstrate against your being made acquainted with these particulars, and might, instead, take it into her head to exercise her own eloquence on Miss Mannering; a faculty which, however powerful when directed against me, its legitimate object, might, I fear, do more harm than good in the case supposed.  Perhaps even you yourself will find it most prudent to act without remonstrating, or appearing to be aware of this little anecdote.  Julia is very like a certain friend of mine; she has a quick and lively imagination, and keen feelings, which are apt to exaggerate both the good and evil they find in life.  She is a charming girl, however, as generous and spirited as she is lovely.  I paid her the kiss you sent her with all my heart, and she rapped my fingers for my reward with all hers.  Pray return as soon as you can.  Meantime rely upon the care of, yours faithfully, ’Arthur Mervyn.

’P.S.—­You will naturally wish to know if I have the least guess concerning the person of the serenader.  In truth, I have none.  There is no young gentleman of these parts, who might be in rank or fortune a match for Miss Julia, that I think at all likely to play such a character.  But on the other side of the lake, nearly opposite to Mervyn Hall, is a d—­d cake-house, the resort of walking gentlemen of all descriptions—­poets, players, painters, musicians—­who come to rave, and recite, and madden about this picturesque land of ours.  It is paying some penalty for its beauties, that they are the means of drawing this swarm of coxcombs together.  But were Julia my daughter, it is one of those sort of fellows that I should fear on her account.  She is generous and romantic, and writes six sheets a week to a female correspondent; and it’s a sad thing to lack a subject in such a case, either for exercise of the feelings or of the pen.  Adieu, once more.  Were I to treat this matter more seriously than I have done, I should do injustice to your feelings; were I altogether to overlook it, I should discredit my own.’

The consequence of this letter was, that, having first despatched the faithless messenger with the necessary powers to Mr. Mac-Morlan for purchasing the estate of Ellangowan, Colonel Mannering turned his horse’s head in a more southerly direction, and neither ‘stinted nor staid’ until he arrived at the mansion of his friend Mr. Mervyn, upon the banks of one of the lakes of Westmoreland.

CHAPTER XVII

     Heaven first, in its mercy, taught mortals their letters,
     For ladies in limbo, and lovers in fetters,
     Or some author, who, placing his persons before ye,
     Ungallantly leaves them to write their own story.

          Pope, imitated.