moment how great was my amonishment at seeing Reginald come out of Lady

Susan's dressing-room. My heart misgave me instantly. His confusion at
seeing me was very evident. Frederica immediately disappeared. "Are you

going?" I said; "you will find Mr. Vernon in his own room." "No,
Catherine," he replied, "I am not going. Will you let me speak to you a

moment?" We went into my room. "I find," he continued, his confusion
increasing as he spoke, "that I have been acting with my usual foolish

impetuosity. I have entirely misunderstood Lady Susan, and was on the point
of leaving the house under a false impression of her conduct. There has

been some very great mistake; we have been all mistaken, I fancy. Frederica
does not know her mother. Lady Susan means nothing but her good, but she

will not make a friend of her. Lady Susan does not always know, therefore,
what will make her daughter happy. Besides, I could have no right to

interfere. Miss Vernon was mistaken in applying to me. In short, Catherine,
everything has gone wrong, but it is now all happily settled. Lady Susan, I

believe, wishes to speak to you about it, if you are at leisure."
"Certainly," I replied, deeply sighing at the recital of so lame a story. I

made no comments, however, for words would have been vain.
Reginald was glad to get away, and I went to Lady Susan, curious,

indeed, to hear her account of it. "Did I not tell you," said she with a
smile, "that your brother would not leave us after all?" "You did, indeed,"

replied I very gravely; "but I flattered myself you would be mistaken." "I
should not have hazarded such an opinion," returned she, "if it had not at

that moment occurred to me that his resolution of going might be
occasioned by a conversation in which we had been this morning engaged, and

which had ended very much to his dissatisfaction, from our not rightly
understanding each other's meaning. This idea struck me at the moment, and

I instantly determined that an accidentaldispute, in which I might
probably be as much to blame as himself, should not deprive you of your

brother. If you remember, I left the room almost immediately. I was
resolved to lose no time in clearing up those mistakes as far as I could.

The case was this--Frederica had set herself violently" target="_blank" title="ad.强暴地；猛烈地">violently against marrying Sir
James." "And can your ladyship wonder that she should?" cried I with some

warmth; "Frederica has an excellent understanding, and Sir James has none."
"I am at least very far from regretting it, my dear sister," said she; "on

the contrary, I am grateful for so favourable a sign of my daughter's
sense. Sir James is certainly below par (his boyish manners make him appear

worse); and had Frederica possessed the penetration and the abilities which
I could have wished in my daughter, or had I even known her to possess as

much as she does, I should not have been anxious for the match." "It is odd
that you should alone be ignorant of your daughter's sense!" "Frederica

never does justice to herself; her manners are shy and childish, and
besides she is afraid of me. During her poor father's life she was a spoilt

child; the severity which it has since been necessary for me to show has
alienated her affection; neither has she any of that brilliancy of

intellect, that genius or vigour of mind which will force itself forward."
"Say rather that she has been unfortunate in her education!" "Heaven knows,

my dearest Mrs. Vernon, how fully I am aware of that; but I would wish to
forget every circumstance that might throw blame on the memory of one whose

name is sacred with me." Here she pretended to cry; I was out of patience
with her. "But what," said I, "was your ladyship going to tell me about

your disagreement with my brother?" "It originated in an action of my
daughter's, which equally marks her want of judgment and the unfortunate

dread of me I have been mentioning--she wrote to Mr. De Courcy." "I know
she did; you had forbidden her speaking to Mr. Vernon or to me on the cause

of her distress; what could she do, therefore, but apply to my brother?"
"Good God!" she exclaimed, "what an opinion you must have of me! Can you

possibly suppose that I was aware of her unhappiness! that it was my object
to make my own child miserable, and that I had forbidden her speaking to

you on the subject from a fear of your interrupting the diabolical scheme?
Do you think me destitute of every honest, every natural feeling? Am I

capable of consigning HER to everlasting: misery whose welfare it is my
first earthly duty to promote? The idea is horrible!" "What, then, was your

intention when you insisted on her silence?" "Of what use, my dear sister,
could be any application to you, however the affair might stand? Why should

I subject you to entreaties which I refused to attend to myself? Neither
for your sake nor for hers, nor for my own, could such a thing be

desirable. When my own resolution was taken I could nor wish for the
interference, however friendly, of another person. I was mistaken, it is

true, but I believed myself right." "But what was this mistake to which
your ladyship so often alludes! from whence arose so astonishing a

misconception of your daughter's feelings! Did you not know that she
disliked Sir James?" "I knew that he was not absolutely the man she would

have chosen, but I was persuaded that her objections to him did not arise
from any perception of his deficiency. You must not question me, however,

my dear sister, too minutely on this point," continued she, taking me
affectionately by the hand; "I honestly own that there is something to

conceal. Frederica makes me very unhappy! Her applying to Mr. De Courcy
hurt me particularly." "What is it you mean to infer," said I, " by this

appearance of mystery? If you think your daughter at all attached to
Reginald, her objecting to Sir James could not less deserve to be attended

to than if the cause of her objecting had been a consciousness of his folly
; and why should your ladyship, at any rate, quarrel with my brother for an

interference which, you must know, it is not in his nature to refuse when
urged in such a manner?"

"His disposition, you know, is warm, and he came to expostulate with me;
his compassion" target="_blank" title="n.同情；怜悯">compassion all alive for this ill-used girl, this heroine in distress!

We misunderstood each other: he believed me more to blame than I really
was; I considered his interference less excusable than I now find it. I

have a real regard for him, and was beyond expression mortified to find
it, as I thought, so ill bestowed We were both warm, and of course both to

blame. His resolution of leaving Churchhill is consistent with his general
eagerness. When I understood his intention, however, and at the same time

began to think that we had been perhaps equallymistaken in each other's
meaning, I resolved to have an explanation before it was too late. For any

member of your family I must always feel a degree of affection, and I own
it would have sensibly hurt me if my acquaintance with Mr. De Courcy had

ended so gloomily. I have now only to say further, that as I am convinced
of Frederica's having a reasonabledislike to Sir James, I shall instantly

inform him that he must give up all hope of her. I reproach myself for
having even, though innocently, made her unhappy on that score. She shall

have all the retribution in my power to make; if she value her own
happiness as much as I do, if she judge wisely, and command herself as she

ought, she may now be easy. Excuse me, my dearest sister, for thus
trespassing on your time, but I owe it to my own character; and after this

explanation I trust I am in no danger of sinking in your opinion." I could
have said, "Not much, indeed!" but I left her almost in silence. It was

the greatest stretch of forbearance I could practise. I could not have
stopped myself had I begun. Her assurance! her deceit! but I will not allow

myself to dwell on them; they will strike you sufficiently. My heart
sickens within me. As soon as I was tolerably composed I returned to the

parlour. Sir James's carriage was at the door, and he, merry as usual, soon
afterwards took his leave. How easily does her ladyship encourage or

dismiss a lover! In spite of this release, Frederica still looks unhappy:
still fearful, perhaps, of her mother's anger; and though dreading my

brother's departure, jealous, it may be, of his staying. I see how closely
she observes him and Lady Susan, poor girl! I have now no hope for her.

There is not a chance of her affection being returned. He thinks very
differently of her from what he used to do; he does her some justice, but

his reconciliation with her mother precludes every dearer hope. Prepare, my
dear mother, for the worst! The probability of their marrying is surely

heightened! He is more securely hers than ever. When that wretched event
takes place, Frederica must belong wholly to us. I am thankful that my last

letter will precede this by so little, as every moment that you can be
saved from feeling a joy which leads only to disappointment is of

consequence.
Yours ever, &c.,

CATHERINE VERNON.
XXV

LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON
Churchhill.

I call on you, dear Alicia, for congratulations: I am my own self, gay
and triumphant! When I wrote to you the other day I was, in truth, in high

irritation, and with ample cause. Nay, I know not whether I ought to be
quite tranquil now, for I have had more trouble in restoring peace than I

ever intended to submit to--a spirit, too, resulting from a fancied sense
of superior integrity, which is peculiarlyinsolent! I shall not easily

forgive him, I assure you. He was actually on the point of leaving
Churchhill! I had scarcely concluded my last, when Wilson brought me word

of it. I found, therefore, that something must be done; for I did not
choose to leave my character at the mercy of a man whose passions are so

violent and so revengeful. It would have been trifling with my reputation
to allow of his departing with such an impression in my disfavour; in this

light, condescension was necessary. I sent Wilson to say that I desired to
speak with him before he went; he came immediately. The angry emotions

which had marked every feature when we last parted were partially subdued.
He seemed astonished at the summons, and looked as if half wishing and half

fearing to be softened by what I might say. If my countenance expressed