I _have_ made my own reflections on the letter you enclosed to me, my
Dear Charlotte and I will now tell you what those reflections 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 first highly
displeased at so hasty and imprudent a connection; but when he found
that they did not mind it, he soon became perfectly reconciled to the
match. The Estate near Aberdeen which my brother possesses by the
bounty of his great Uncle independant of Sir George, was entirely
sufficient to support him and my Sister in Elegance and Ease. For the
first twelvemonth, no one could be happier than Lesley, and no one more
amiable to appearance than Louisa, and so plausibly did she act and so
cautiously behave that tho’ Matilda and I often spent several weeks
together with them, yet we neither of us had any suspicion of her real
Disposition. After the birth of Louisa however, which one would have
thought would have strengthened her regard for Lesley, the mask she had
so long supported was by degrees thrown aside, and as probably she then
thought herself secure in the affection of her Husband (which did
indeed appear if possible augmented by the birth of his Child) she
seemed to take no pains to prevent that affection from ever
diminushing. Our visits therefore to Dunbeath, were now less frequent
and by far less agreable than they used to be. Our absence was however
never either mentioned or lamented by Louisa who in the society of
young Danvers with whom she became acquainted at Aberdeen (he was at
one of the Universities there,) felt infinitely happier than in that of
Matilda and your freind, tho’ there certainly never were pleasanter
girls than we are. You know the sad end of all Lesleys connubial
happiness; I will not repeat it—. Adeiu my dear Charlotte; although I
have not yet mentioned anything of the matter, I hope you will do me
the justice to beleive that I _think_ and _feel_, a great deal for your
Sisters affliction. I do not doubt but that the healthy air of the
Bristol downs will intirely remove it, by erasing from her Mind the
remembrance of Henry. I am my dear Charlotte yrs ever