_P.S._ We shall bring a maid with us. Counsellor Steadman assure my
Jerry that you will not find it difficult to provide for our horses.
We shall have six with us, besides the servants’, that run _hout_: my
husband is only afraid, that you will think we are taking a freedom
that may give not only trouble but offence; but I laugh at his
scruples; for you well know, I expect no ceremony, nor practice none
with those I love.
I have really, my dear Lucy, exerted my utmost skill, in copying Mrs.
Serge’s epistle _verbatim_; but I was never more convinced of the
truth contained in the wise man’s observation, “Train up a child in
the way he should go,” says the son of Sirach, “and when he is old he
will not depart from it.” My fingers and talents have been so long
cramped by my first spelling book, that I much doubt whether I have
done justice to Mrs. Serge’s orthography; but when she arrives I will
study her vocabulary, in order to prove to Mary that she has still to
learn a language which she may need without losing sight of British
land. With streaming eyes, for laughter has its tears, I “_himplored_”
Lady Maclairn to “_hadmit_” these guests. She did more than smile; for
laughing in her turn, she asked Sir Murdoch whether he was disposed
to indulge his daughter with the opportunity of acquiring a language,
which, with my gaiety, and its novelty, would render me irresistible.
He answered cheerfully that he had only one fear; and that was, lest
such an addition to her cares should be fatiguing to herself, and, it
might be, unpleasant to Miss Flint. “I have no apprehensions,” replied
she mildly: “as to Lucretia’s consent,” her features reassuming their
usual pensiveness, and that suspicion succeeding, which it has been
yours and Mrs. Allen’s labour to convince me proceeds from timidity
and delicate nerves; “I have no doubts of my sister Lucretia’s perfect
acquiescence,” added she; “and I confess it would gratify me to acquit
myself of a part of that debt of gratitude which I owe to this lady’s
aunt, who by her attentions and tender care of me, probably, saved
my life: her father and mother also were extremely kind to me when I
was with them, and, as was supposed, far gone in a decline.” “Then
lose no time, my Harriet,” answered the baronet, “in acquainting
her, that we shall receive them as friends; and that we will do all
we can do for the accommodation of _friends_.” She looked pleased,
but hesitated. “I have yet one point to settle before I determine,”
observed she. “Mr. Serge is a plain honest man; but he is little
acquainted with the usages of the world. His wife, I presume, has
not gained much improvement of mind since I knew her: although in a
prosperous situation of fortune, we may, I think, conclude that her
society has not been select. You will find these people quite remote
from yourself; they will be troublesome to you, and if my cousin Lydia
likes Tarefield, she may delay her visit to the lakes rather longer
than you will relish: I am certain they will not amuse you.” Sir
Murdoch eagerly set aside this objection. All is now _en train_ for
Mrs. Serge’s reception; for Lady Maclairn has sent off her answer, and
cordial acceptance of the visit; and preparations are now making for
their arrival.
_In continuation._--For once, at least, in my life I will do justice
to Lady Maclairn’s address. She has been to consult me on the means
her fertile genius has adopted to _trick_ Sir Murdoch into another
apartment. Our plot has succeeded, and we are now busy in making
such arrangements for him, as will, it is hoped, soon reconcile him
to the loss of his detestable grated windows, and which will tend
to obliterate from his mind the saddening ideas associated with his
prison. This apartment is now to be destined to the strangers’ use,
and they will have but one staircase to explore to their several
rooms. I have also been prepared to form my estimate of the pleasure
I may expect from our visitors. She spoke of Mrs. Serge’s parents.
Captain Hatchway was the master of a ship, and his family resided at
Y--m--th. His sister, Mrs. Priscilla Hatchway, had been the early
friend of Lady Maclairn’s mother, and was her first cousin. “I have
not seen Mrs. Serge, for many years,” added her ladyship. “She was
then a thoughtless, giddy girl, but perfectly innocent and good
natured. When she lost her good father, I have reason to believe she
had little whereon to depend for her future maintenance: her mother
had no talents for economy, and her daughter’s union with Mr. Serge
was a circumstance of great utility to her, as well as of security to
her lively and pretty daughter. Mr. Serge was rich when he married,
and since that time has been very fortunate, by an accession of wealth
which he little expected. He is a worthy honest man; and as she says,
a _hexcellent_ husband, though more than twenty years her senior; but
you may imagine that neither his education nor his pursuits in life
can have any similarity with Sir Mordoch’s. He has been ‘Mr. Serge the
rich taylor’ till within these three or four years, when I heard that
he had dropped this designation, for ‘Mr. Serge the _contractor_;’
now, it appears, he is ‘Mr. Serge the _gentleman_;’ and it is only
to be feared, that his lady will find more difficulty in sustaining
this part, than any which she has hitherto performed. She will have
gained little, if the simplicity of her character has been infringed
by her commerce with fashion and luxury; for her spirits, when I knew
her, were extremely volatile.” I was left: the workmen summoning her
ladyship, who is at present very busy in Sir Murdoch’s deserted prison.
New hangings, new windows, &c. are to change its aspect. Sir Murdoch,
either discomfited by seeing the alterations which have taken place in
his fortress, or vexed that his wife has converted her dressing-room
to his convenience, has been with me in his turn; and with some signs
of spleen, he observed, that Harriet would have matters settled in her
own way; for she never regarded what was due to herself. “I could
have done very well without my apartment for a week,” added he, “and
without dispossessing her of a room she likes; and I suppose these
good people will not stay longer than a few days; for I think they
will soon be tired of us.” “I hope not,” answered I, “for I expect
much amusement from them.” “A few hours will lessen your enjoyment,”
replied he gravely, “of any amusement which makes no appeal to your
taste and understanding: you will not find in novelty an equivalent
for ignorance and vulgarity. As for the husband of our cousin, I am
prepared to find in him one of those characters which more peculiarly
disgust me; for unless he has more modesty and common sense than the
generality of that class of men who are elevated by wealth to stations
which neither their birth nor attainments in knowledge can make easy to
them, he will soon weary me. I understand he has already dropped the
_taylor_ for the _contractor_; and, without doubt, fancies himself
qualified to rank with any of his superiors.” I saw that the blood
royal of Malcolm King of Scotland, or at least of the Highlanders,
was not exhausted by flowing through the veins of Sir Murdoch and his
progenitors for so many centuries. It mounted to his face; and I should
have smiled saucily, had I not recollected the pure reservoir it filled
in the baronet’s bosom. I can pardon this childish vanity, Lucy, when I
see it qualified by an honest pride; and if by a consciousness of the
eminence of our ancestors, in the annals of time, which blazon forth
their glory and virtue, we be emulated to follow in the same track,
it is well. But in Sir Murdoch I regard with lenity even a little
pride of heart for the _shadow_ of greatness; any thing which gives
to him _self-consequence_, and _self-confidence_ is useful to him, as
tending to repress the painful recollection of those hours, when by
his malady, he was levelled lower than the dust; and under which the
boasted prerogatives of man, and all the adventitious circumstances of
his place in this world, are sunk in darkness! A little vanity will not
hurt my patient; and it is the pleasure of my life here, to see that
I can make him laugh at my follies, and forget his own infirmities.
Farewell!
Yours, faithfully,