me as soon as you can, but come without mockery on your tongue, or ridicule in your eye; for my heart is ill at ease, and my spirits. are not in a tone to bear your plaisanteries just now. Your affectionate AUGUSTA. MISS MONTRESSOR TO MADAME LA MARQUISE DE VILLEROI. Vernon Hall. PITY me, ma chère Delphine! for here I am, doing penance in one of the most tristes châteaux in which ever luckless dame was immured for her sins. Imaginez vous—mais, non, you cannot imagine any thing half so horrid; ergo, I must describe it. But, to begin at the beginning, as all tales should. I told you in my last that I was to be present at the nuptials of a certain young friend of mine, belle comme un ange, and innocent, too, as an angel, if all we are told of them be true. My little friend has enough of romance in her composition to make half-a-dozen modern heroines enough giddiness to compromise thrice that number-and enough sensibility to be rendered wretched at the effects which that giddiness may produce. She is the strangest imaginable mélange of all imaginable qualities. Proud, without being vain, generous to profusion, impatient of restraint, yet docile as an infant under the influence of tenderness: loving her parents excessively, yet jealous of their asserting any control over her actions-a paternal right which, to do them justice, they rarely, if ever, exercise. Her own feelings would lead her to desire to inspire a desperate, or, as you French call it, une grande passion, à la Byron. Unhappily, too, she has been lately present at the marriage of a friend dearer to her than I am (though, strange to say, that friend is a stern Mentor, too), and she has also resided some time at the house of that friend, whose stately happiness has awakened the dormant pride of my little beauty. The consequence is, forsooth, that she is no longer satisfied with the passion of Lord Annandale, and ardently desires to inspire a grave, a dignified, a respectful sentiment. Ha, ha! the very thought of this fantastic foolery makes me laugh. Having accepted the first offer she received (for she is yet little more than sixteen, and has not been presented in the world), she discovers that she does not love the man she has promised to wed; yet, is ashamed of revealing this circumstance to her parents, lest they should consider her a weak, vacillating child; which is precisely what she is, and a spoiled one into the bargain, by the unexampled indulgence of her doting father and mother. All that I have now told you, Lady Augusta has written to me; and a little encouragement on my part would have led her to be equally confidential with her friends. But, this encouragement I did not, would not give her, for reasons of my own; nay, I have done all in my power to induce her to fulfil her engagement. Be it known to you, belle et bonne Delphine, that, being extremely tired of the society of madame ma tante in the country, and extremely anxious to pass the ensuing season in London, my sole chance for the accomplishment of this desideratum, is to get Lady Augusta converted from a giddy and useless demoiselle just emerging from her governess and nursery, into a dame à la mode; a useful chaperon, in whose bril liant mansion in town I may secure myself a séjour. I am eight years, bien sonnés, the senior of my friend, and have acquired an influence over her, of the extent of which even she is unconscious. Should her lord disapprove of my spending as much time as I choose beneath his roof, I can always, by insinuating to her that he treats her as a child, excite her to rebel against his power. At present, however, I see no probability of being necessitated to practise this stratagem, for, he appears very tractable. I had intended taking up my abode for the season with notre amie, la comtesse ; mais, helas! some reports of her impropriety of conduct, that (entre nous soit dit) admit not of denial or defence, have reached ma tante, who would not hear of my resting a single night beneath her roof; nay, who will not hear of my keeping up any intimacy |