I wish you were to have seen the look with which the worthy Mr. Clendinning met me, as I rode up the avenue to M———— house.
To put an end at once to his impertinent surmises, curiosity, and suspicion, which I evidently saw lurking in his keen eye, I made a display of my fractured arm, which I still wore in a sling; and naturally enough accounted for my absence, by alleging that a fall from my horse, and a fractured limb had obliged me to accept the humane attentions of a gentleman, near whose house the accident had happened, and whose guest and patient I had since been. Mr. Clendinning affected the tone of regret and condolence, with some appropriate suppositions of what his lord would feel when he learnt the unfortunate circumstance.
“In a word, Mr. Clendinning,” said I, “I do not choose my father’s feelings should be called in question on a matter which is now of no ill consequence; and as there is not the least occasion to render him unhappy to no purpose, I must insist that you neither write nor mention the circumstance to him on any account.”
Mr. Clendinning bowed obedience, and I contrived to ratify his promise by certain inuendoes; for, as he is well aware many of his villanies have reached my ear, he hates and fears me with all his soul.
My first inquiry was for letters. I found two from my father, and one, only one, from you.
My father writes in his usual style. His first is merely an epistle admonitory; full of prudent axioms, and fatherly solicitudes. The second informs me that his journey to Ireland is deferred for a month or six weeks, on account of my brother’s marriage with the heiress of the richest banker in the city. It is written in his best style, and a brilliant flow of spirit pervades every line. In the plenitude of his joy all my sins are forgiven; he even talks of terminating my exile sooner than I had any reason to suspect: and he playfully adds, “of changing my banishment into slavery”—“knowing from experience that provided my shackles are woven by the rosy fingers of beauty, I can wear them patiently and pleasurably enough. In short,” he adds, “I have a connexion in my eye, for you, not less brilliant in point of fortune than that your brother has made; and which will enable you to forswear your Coke, and burn your Blackstone.”
In fact, the spirit of matrimonial establishment seems to have taken such complete possession of my speculating dad, that it would by no means surprise me though he were on the point of sacrificing at the Hymenial altar himself. You know he has more than once, in a frolic, passed for my elder brother; and certainly has more sensibility than should belong to forty-five. Nor should I at all wonder if some insinuating coquette should one day or other sentimentalize him into a Platonic passion, which would terminate in the old way. I have, however, indulged in a little triumph at his expense, and have answered him in a strain of apathetic content—that habit and reason have perfectly reconciled me to my present mode of life, which leaves me without a wish to change it.
Now for your letter. With respect to the advice you demand, I have only to repeat the opinion already advanced that——— But with respect to that you give me—
“Go bid physicians preach our veins to health,
And with an argument new set a pulse.”