You charm us all with your letters. Mr. Peters says, he will never go
to bed, nor rise, but he will pray for you, and desires I will return
his thankful acknowledgment for your favourable opinion of him, and
kind allowances. If there be an angel on earth, he says, you are
one. My papa, although he has seen your stinging reflection upon his
refusal to protect you, is delighted with you too; and says, when you
come down to Lincolnshire again, he will be _undertaken_ by you
in good earnest: for he thinks it was wrong in him to deny you his
protection.
We all smiled at the description of your own uncommon courtship. And,
as they say the days of courtship are the happiest part of life, if we
had not known that your days of marriage are happier by far than any
other body's courtship, we must needs have pitied. But as the one
were days of trial and temptation, the others are days of reward and
happiness: may the last always continue to be so, and you'll have no
occasion to think any body happier than Mrs. B.!
I thank you heartily for your good wishes as to the man of sense.
Mr. Murray has been here, and continues his visits. He is a lively
gentleman, well enough in his person, has a tolerable character, yet
loves company, and will take his bottle freely; my papa likes him
ne'er the worse for that: he talks a good deal; dresses gay, and even
richly, and seems to like his own person very well--no great pleasure
this for a lady to look forward to; yet he falls far short of that
genteel ease and graceful behaviour, which distinguish your Mr. B.
from any body I know.
I wish Mr. Murray would apply to my sister. She is an ill-natured
girl; but would make a good wife, I hope; and fancy she'd like him
well enough. I can't say I do. He laughs too much; has something
boisterous in his conversation: his complaisance is not pretty; he is,
however, well versed in country sports; and my papa loves him for that
too, and says--"He is a most accomplished gentleman."--"Yes Sir," cry
I, "as gentlemen go."--"You _must_ be saucy," says Sir Simon, "because
the man offers himself to your acceptance. A few years hence, perhaps,
if you remain single, you'll alter your note, Polly, and be willing to
jump at a much less worthy tender."
I could not help answering that, although I paid due honour to all my
papa was pleased to say, I could not but hope he would be mistaken in
this. But I have broken my mind to my dear mamma, who tells me, she
will do me all the pleasure she can; but would be loth the youngest
daughter should go _first_, as she calls it. But if I could come
and live with you a little now and then, I did not care who married,
unless such an one offered as I never expect.
I have great hopes the gentleman will be easily persuaded to quit me
for Nancy; for I see he has not delicacy enough to love with any great
distinction. He says, as my mamma tells me by the bye, that I am the
handsomest, and best humoured, and he has found out as he thinks, that
I have some wit, and have ease and freedom (and he tacks innocence
to them) in my address and conversation. 'Tis well for me, _he_ is
of this opinion: for if he thinks justly, which I must question, _any
body_ may think so still much more; for I have been far from taking
pains to engage his good word, having been under more reserve to him,
than ever I was before to any body.
Indeed, I can't help it: for the gentleman is forward without
delicacy; and (pardon me, Sir Simon) my papa has not one bit of it
neither; but is for pushing matters on, with his rough raillery, that
puts me out of countenance, and has already adjusted the sordid part
of the preliminaries, as he tells me.
Yet I hope Nancy's three thousand pound fortune more than I am likely
to have, will give her the wished-for preference with Mr. Murray;
and then, as to a brother-in-law, in prospect, I can put off all
restraint, and return to my usual freedom.
This is all that occurs worthy of notice from us: but from you, we
expect an account of Lady Davers's visit, and of the conversations
that offer among you; and you have so delightful a way of making every
thing momentous, either by your subject or reflections, or both, that
we long for every post-day, in hopes of the pleasure of a letter. And
yours I will always carefully preserve, as so many testimonies of the
honour I receive in this correspondence: which will be always esteemed
as it deserves, by, my dear Mrs. B., _your obliged and faithful_