were. I reflected that if by this second Marriage Sir George
should have a second family, our fortunes must be considerably
diminushed–that if his Wife should be of an extravagant turn,
she would encourage him to persevere in that gay and Dissipated
way of Life to which little encouragement would be necessary, and
which has I fear already proved but too detrimental to his health
and fortune–that she would now become Mistress of those Jewels
which once adorned our Mother, and which Sir George had always
promised us–that if they did not come into Perthshire I should
not be able to gratify my curiosity of beholding my Mother-in-law
and that if they did, Matilda would no longer sit at the head of
her Father’s table–. These my dear Charlotte were the
melancholy reflections which crowded into my imagination after
perusing Susan’s letter to you, and which instantly occurred to
Matilda when she had perused it likewise. The same ideas, the
same fears, immediately occupied her Mind, and I know not which
reflection distressed her most, whether the probable Diminution
of our Fortunes, or her own Consequence. We both wish very much
to know whether Lady Lesley is handsome and what is your opinion
of her; as you honour her with the appellation of your freind, we
flatter ourselves that she must be amiable. My Brother is
already in Paris. He intends to quit it in a few Days, and to
begin his route to Italy. He writes in a most chearfull manner,
says that the air of France has greatly recovered both his Health
and Spirits; that he has now entirely ceased to think of Louisa
with any degree either of Pity or Affection, that he even feels
himself obliged to her for her Elopement, as he thinks it very
good fun to be single again. By this, you may perceive that he
has entirely regained that chearful Gaiety, and sprightly Wit,
for which he was once so remarkable. When he first became
acquainted with Louisa which was little more than three years
ago, he was one of the most lively, the most agreable young Men
of the age–. I beleive you never yet heard the particulars of
his first acquaintance with her. It commenced at our cousin
Colonel Drummond’s; at whose house in Cumberland he spent the
Christmas, in which he attained the age of two and twenty.
Louisa Burton was the Daughter of a distant Relation of Mrs.
Drummond, who dieing a few Months before in extreme poverty, left
his only Child then about eighteen to the protection of any of
his Relations who would protect her. Mrs. Drummond was the only
one who found herself so disposed–Louisa was therefore removed
from a miserable Cottage in Yorkshire to an elegant Mansion in
Cumberland, and from every pecuniary Distress that Poverty could
inflict, to every elegant Enjoyment that Money could purchase–.
Louisa was naturally ill-tempered and Cunning; but she had been
taught to disguise her real Disposition, under the appearance of
insinuating Sweetness, by a father who but too well knew, that to
be married, would be the only chance she would have of not being
starved, and who flattered himself that with such an extroidinary
share of personal beauty, joined to a gentleness of Manners, and
an engaging address, she might stand a good chance of pleasing
some young Man who might afford to marry a girl without a
Shilling. Louisa perfectly entered into her father’s schemes and
was determined to forward them with all her care and attention.
By dint of Perseverance and Application, she had at length so
thoroughly disguised her natural disposition under the mask of
Innocence, and Softness, as to impose upon every one who had not
by a long and constant intimacy with her discovered her real
Character. Such was Louisa when the hapless Lesley first beheld
her at Drummond-house. His heart which (to use your favourite
comparison) was as delicate as sweet and as tender as a Whipt-
syllabub, could not resist her attractions. In a very few Days,
he was falling in love, shortly after actually fell, and before
he had known her a Month, he had married her. My Father was at