“Well, the Pet* was charmed that the rain had not stopt me, and so were the ladies, and all mightily pleased at breakfast with my description of Miss Creevey’s drum† and supper. I did the company by helping them to stuffing out of the hare, to make up for the little I could get from the hare itself. Then the day became quite fine and all was to be ready for shooting in half an hour. In a turn or two I had with Sefton on the terrace he said:—‘Well, I have written to Brougham by this post and have said to him—“I observe you never mention any politicks in your letter of yesterday; from which I conclude, of course, you are ashamed to advert to our late nefarious attack upon the Turks. For myself I can fairly say I have gone as far as any man in my endeavours to prevent the return of the Tories to power; but if I am expected to support the infernal outrage at Navarino, it is too high a price to pay for accomplishing my object, and I think it right to declare I will not do it. And now, as you have hitherto given me an explicit account of the part you meant to take when the Government was about to submit my measure to Parliament, I beg you will be as frank with me upon this occasion as I have been with you.”’ . . . Sefton is to send me his answer, which one should think must be a dokiment of some interest.
“Well but—to wind up my intercourse with the Pet: when the carriages were ready for the shooters in the stable yard, where they always embark, I went to be present on the occasion, and when Sefton came, who was the last, he said:—‘Creevey, I want to speak to you;’ and taking me into the Riding House he said:—‘I can’t let you go without telling you that McKenzie has proposed to Maria. It has happened just now.’ I said I had seen quite enough to be sure it would come to that and added:—‘He is a man of fortune, is he not?’—‘I fancy so,’ said Sefton, ‘but I know nothing about it. He seems a damned good
* Lord Sefton. † Mr. Creevey had been the night before to a party at his sister’s house in Liverpool, and driven out to Croxteth to breakfast. |
| 144 | THE CREEVEY PAPERS | [Ch. VI. |
