I stand, Walter, the watchful sentinel of her chamber door, which I presume not to enter. Till I had her in my possession, my thoughts, in gadding after the enterprise, possessed all the saucy gaiety which youth and untamed spirits could impart. Nay, when I began to write this letter, they wore their natural character. I must shift my station from this room. Those deep deep sighs will undo me! Hasten, dear Walter, make the wings of speed thy messengers to bear to me a hundred guineas, that we may fly to the land of blessings ere I forgot that her cupids have golden headed arrows.—Hem!—Seven thousand per annum—O 'tis an elixir to chear the fainting spirits!
And now, as sure as I have possession of the rich and beauteous prize after which I have so long yearned, so sure will I recompense her present uneasiness by a life of tenderness, attention, and, to the best of my present belief, of unabated constancy.
But marry me she must and shall, by G—d!
FILMAR
LETTER XXXIV
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN
TO
LADY BARLOWE
Dear Madam,
By a strange concurrence of accidents I am at present attending Mr. Murden, who during many days has lain dangerously ill in a small country inn nine miles from Valmont castle. I must leave it to your prudence to acquaint Sir Thomas Barlowe (to whom I know it will be most distressing tidings) that his nephew is in danger, but it is necessary that Sir Thomas should know it immediately, for I have made preparations for bringing Mr. Murden to London, that he may have better accommodation and better advice. Though I speak of advice, I dare not encourage any hope in Sir Thomas, for I have watched the progress of his nephew's disorder, and I believe he is only lingering—abide he cannot.
Sir Thomas Barlowe loved this young man as a son; and, to receive him scarcely a shadow of his former self, will create distressing emotions. Yet, I beseech you to urge Sir Thomas carefully to avoid any strong expressions of sorrow when his nephew arrives, for I have the grief to tell you that Mr. Murden's reason is shaken: and dreadful paroxysms may follow the slightest agitation.