"Ancram has invited an old Whitford acquaintance of his to be his best man at the wedding. He says that as we are going to live there for a time at least, it would never do to offend all the people of the place by taking no notice of them. It would be like going into a hornet's nest. And the young man in question has been civil to Ancram in his school-boy days. He is a certain Mr. Pawkins, who lives at a place with the delightful name of Pudcombe Hall. He is not so bad as I expected, and is quiet and good-natured. If all the Whitfordians turn out as well as he, I shall be agreeably surprised. But I fear they are a strange set of provincial bumpkins. However, we shall not have to remain amongst them long, for Uncle Val. has privately promised to move heaven and earth to get Ancram a better position. You know he is to be postmaster at Whitford. Only think of it! It would be absurd, if it were not such a downright shame. And I more than suspect my lady of having hurried Uncle Val. into accepting it for Ancram. I suppose she thinks anything is good enough for us.
"I wish you could see Ancram! He is very handsome, and even more elegant than handsome. And his manners are admitted on all hands to be charming. It is monstrous to think of burying his talents in a poky little hole like Whitford. But there is this to be said; if he hadn't got this postmastership we could not have been married at all. For he is poor. And you know what my great fortune is! I do think it is too bad that people of our condition should ever be allowed to be so horribly poor. The Government ought to do something for us.
"Uncle Val. has made me a handsome present of money to help to furnish our house. I'm sure this is quite unknown to my lady. So don't say anything about it among your people at home, or it may come round to Lady S.'s ears, and poor Uncle Val. would get scolded. Give my love to Aunt Julia and my cousins. I hope to see you all next season in town, for Ancram and I have quite made up our minds not to stick in that nasty little provincial hole all the year round. Mrs. Errington is to go back there directly after the wedding, to see about a house for us, and get things ready. Of course, if there's anything that I don't like, I can alter it myself when I arrive.
"Good-bye, dear Louisa. Don't forget your affectionate cousin, who signs herself (perhaps for the last time),
"C. C. Kilfinane."
(From Orlando Pawkins to his sister, Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs.)
"Long Fells, Westmoreland. Monday evening.
"My dear Jemima,—I am sorry that you and Humphrey should have felt hurt and thought I was making mysteries. But I assure you I was quite taken by surprise when I got Errington's letter, telling me about his wedding, and inclosing Lord Seely's invitation to me to come here. I knew nothing about it before, I give you my word.
"You ask me to write you full details of the affair, and I am sure I would if I could. But I don't know any more than the rest of the world. I don't think much of Long Fells. The land is poor, and the house almost tumbling to pieces. Lord Seely is uncommonly polite, but I don't much like my lady. And she has a beast of a lap-dog that snaps at everybody. Errington is the same as ever, only he looks so much older in these two years. Any one would take him to be five or six and twenty, at least. As to the bride, she don't take much notice of me, so I haven't got very well acquainted with her. I ride about the country nearly all day long. Lord Seely has provided me with a pretty decent mount. I shall be glad when the wedding is over, and I can get away, for it's precious dull here. Even your friend Jack Price seems moped and out of sorts, and goes about singing, 'The heart that once truly loves never forgets,' or something like that, enough to give a fellow the blue devils.