As to me—to be plain, my dear, I can hold no longer; I have been married this fortnight. My father wanted to keep it a secret, for some very foolish reasons; but it is not in my nature; I hate secrets, they are only fit for politicians, and people whose thoughts and actions will not bear the light.
For my part, I am convinced the general loquacity of human kind, and our inability to keep secrets without a natural kind of uneasiness, were meant by Providence to guard against our laying deep schemes of treachery against each other.
I remember a very sensible man, who perfectly knew the world, used to say, there was no such thing in nature as a secret; a maxim as true, at least I believe so, as it is salutary, and which I would advise all good mammas, aunts, and governesses, to impress strongly on the minds of young ladies.
So, as I was saying, voilà Madame Fitzgerald!
This is, however, yet a secret here; but, according to my present doctrine, and following the nature of things, it cannot long continue so.
You never saw so polite a husband, but I suppose they are all so the first fortnight, especially when married in so interesting and romantic a manner; I am very fond of the fancy of being thus married as it were; but I have a notion I shall blunder it out very soon: we were married on a party to Three Rivers, nobody with us but papa and Madame Villiers, who have not yet published the mystery. I hear some misses at Quebec are scandalous about Fitzgerald’s being so much here; I will leave them in doubt a little, I think, merely to gratify their love of scandal; every body should be amused in their way.
Adieu! yours,
A. Fitzgerald.
Pray let Emily be married; every body marries but poor little Emily.
LETTER CLV.159.
To the Earl of ——.