How delightful it is, my dearest darling pet, to address you once more at home, and to know you are comforting my darling papa for my absence; the more I think of his indulgence to all my whims and eccentricities, the more I feel myself unworthy of such a father, and the further I have travelled from home—the more I have lived among strangers—the dearer he and you are to me. If he can forgive me this wild step, I promise never to have a wish or desire independent of him, and never to leave him again whilst he thinks I am worthy of remaining with him.
Every indulgence, every tenderness, even respect that is possible for a human being to receive, is paid to me here. I am carried about as a show, worshipped as a little idol, and my poor aunt says she cannot help crying for joy, when she thinks she has such a niece! Although we have some most respectable folks frequently with us, the chair on her right hand is always kept for me, no matter whether her visitors are married or not.
Whatever I happen to say I like is prepared for
breakfast, dinner or supper; and all her fear is that I
| THE WILD IRISH GIRL. | 281 |
Last night I had a famous logical and literary combat
with a young pedantic Cantab, just fresh from Cambridge, in which I was
victorious, and the poor old gentleman was so pleased that he sat up till one o’clock, though he usually retires at ten. But
kind and good as my uncle and aunt are, they are nothing to my dear little
affectionate cousins; the two boys are charming fellows, spirited, clever and
polite. Robert, the eldest, is so like me, that people in
the street take us for brother and sister. He scarcely lives a moment from
me—we draw together and read French—he drives me about in a nice
curricle. My uncle’s curricle is reckoned the handsomest in Salop, and he
keeps four horses. We had the daughters of a Welsh vicar on a visit, beautiful
as angels and to the full as insipid. Aunt and uncle are always torturing
Robert to pay them attention, but in vain, his reply
is always, “I must father give them up or my
charming little Irish cousin—I have made my election.”
Mary (my likeness) is my friend, and
Bess, who is going to be
| 282 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
Yesterday we all went to Condover, one of the finest
seats in England. The paintings, statuary, study, &c., passed all
conception. The Welsh misses walked, and Robert drove
“his beautiful cousin” as he calls me! Do
you know I have had a most extraordinary packet from old Everard; six pages!
mostly about Dick. He seems afraid his son is going over
to marry me; but says he throws himself on my generosity,—and he begs of
me to save him from himself, for that without an independence and without
industry, a connection of that kind would weigh him down for life. He then
recommends him to my care, and begs me to be his preceptress and guardian, that
I will guide his actions and direct his study, and to sum up all, he encloses
me an order on his banker for twenty guineas for pocket
money! You know my spirit—the order I returned—and gave
him a true and circumstantial account of my acquaintance with his son from
beginning to end; assuring him that the expected arrival of his son hurried my
departure from London; as my obligations to the
father precluded every idea of continuing any intercourse with the son,
unsanctioned by his approbation. I wrote very proudly and very much to the
purpose. He told me you looked well and hand-
| THE WILD IRISH GIRL. | 283 |
