Vale, vale, yours ever,
A. Howard.
LETTER XV.
Miss Howard to A. Howard, Esq.
Dear Arthur,
Your letter of the 10th to me, has produced a horrible combustion, and I am ordered to recal you immediately. Well or not well, you must be off; and as fast as coaching and steaming can bring you it will be prudent for you to appear before your angry parent, who will vent all her bile on us, if you do not come and relieve Adelaide and me from her ill humour. She accuses us of having persuaded her into consenting to your Irish expedition, and protests, at the pitch of her voice, that she would greatly prefer seeing you dead at her feet, to beholding you return a methodist, which she is convinced you are already become. You have no time to lose; but lest you should not consider the reception which I am teaching you to anticipate from your tender mother, too attractive, I have another reason to urge for your speedy appearance, which will surely turn the scale, if you are in any doubt how to act. I gave you a hint in my last, which will prevent your being surprised with the sequel. La mere has played her game so well, that were it not for the dreams of affrighted fancy, which represent you with parted locks of greasy sable, mounted on a tub, and haranguing the multitude al fresco—in short, if she did not believe you in the high road to become a field preacher, unless you are one already, she would have reason to sound the trumpet, and claim the honours of a triumph. She gave a splendid ball by way of clincher, for which her cards where out when I wrote last to you. The bait took à merveille. Crayton and Ady waltzed together, after which, mamma sailed round the rooms, and whispered to three or four friends (good telegraphs), that she wished Lord C. was not quite so particular in his attentions. "Le bruit court," so rapidly said la bonne mere, "that things are settled by the world before the parties themselves have the slightest idea of being serious." Of course you know the eyes of Europe were directed to the pair. The buz went round, and on the following day, old Lady Bilton bethought her of a cheap return, for at least half a dozen parties, and sent off a note to the following effect, which mamma received before six o'clock, at which hour Crayton made his morning call to ask how we did. Old Bilton's billet was to this effect:—
"My dear Mrs. Howard,—As no one can possibly take precedence of me in the most lively interest for all that concerns you, I have made it a point to deny myself this morning to some particular friends, that I may write, to tell you of the rumours which are afloat. To be explicit, Lord Crayton and Adelaide Howard occupy the public mind, and the on dit of this morning is, that the settlements are en train. Do say, by a line, whether I may congratulate you. To a girl of Adelaide's expectations, the report cannot be of any disagreeable consequence if unfounded; but should it be true, I shall long to hear particulars.
Yours very truly,
S. Bilton."
No sooner was Crayton announced, than he was caught and closeted by la madre, who imparted Lady Bilton's intelligence with becoming gravity, and sundry comments on the pain to delicate feelings, produced by talking people; the necessity of being more circumspect, her own disinterested sentiments, desire for her daughter's happiness, dread of Adelaide's affections being engaged; all which matter, judiciously interlarded with my uncle's great riches, speedy return, devoted attachment to his brother's children, and her own fears that his generosity would be so profuse as to bring all the fortune-hunting tribe to torment us, operated so powerfully on my Lord, added to the surprise of his capture on entering the house, that the whole matter was arranged, Ady was sent for, mamma vanished, the proposal was made, and accepted, the horrid business-people are put in motion, and you must come over, not only to take your seat amongst the musty parchments, but likewise to go through the silly form of giving your sister away. This latter ceremony is much more appropriate to the old Indian Plutus; but there are two reasons against waiting his arrival. One is, that we are not sure but he may leave us in the lurch; and, secondly, he may possibly be such an outlandish sort of animal, that we shall find it advisable to keep him in the shade. Now, it may be, that if you proclaim all that I am telling you, to the tiresome primitives, whose notions you seem to adopt with a degree of zeal, which I can assure you gains no credit here, I dare say that the eyes of your pious relatives will turn as naturally to the new, as the sun-flower does to the old light, and the blue, green, grey, or hazel, which may distinguish the organs of your serious aunt and cousins from each other, will be lost in the general field argent, as their pupils become heaven-directed, and the white of their eyes alone remain visible, like the sculptured orbs of so many statues. You will then hear a volley of methodistic nonsence,—of "fraud," "take in," "future unhappiness," and such like mawkish stuff, which I protest makes me feel, while I am writing, as if I had swallowed a score of ipecacuanha lozenges; therefore it will be wiser of you to say nothing of what I have mentioned. It will be quite enough to tell Mrs. Douglas and her gawky lasses, that affairs of importance demand your presence in England, and that, having been cured of your cough, the object of your visit to them is accomplished. We are the more anxious that you should act promptly, because Russell, and that blockhead Annesley, are gone to see Killarney, the Giant's Causeway, and whatever other odds and ends, in the way of lionizing that savage island may offer. Now, if they poke you out from the hole in which you are buried, or stumble upon you in a bog, the ass, alias Annesley, will begin to bray; he will tell the antediluvians of Glenalta that Crayton is not exactly such a puritan as he is himself; that he has gambled away money enough to build four-and-twenty chapels all in a row. Every irregularity of his life will be dragged into notice, and as your good people are stubborn as mules in performing what they call their "duty," we shall have postage to pay for some of your aunt's homilies, and not only that, but folks who know nothing of the world, act so entirely without line or compass, that I should not be surprised if she took up her pen, and committed the monstrous absurdity of addressing a tract to Crayton himself.