Arthur Howard to Miss Howard.

Dearest Louisa,

On my return from Killarney, I find your packet, and hasten to say to my mother and you, that I shall obey your summons with as little delay as possible, consistently with all that I owe to the beloved friends whom I am about to leave. So many conflicting thoughts press for utterance, that I know not how or where to begin. Louisa, you will find me a very different being from the Arthur of your recollection; and I fear that at first the change which has been wrought in me will not please you. If you disliked my friendship with Falkland, and less powerful, yet still strong, regard for Annesley, what will you think of a devotion which can only end with life for my aunt Douglas, her children, and her friend Mr. Otway?

Yes, I own it to you. At Glenalta, in this despised and remote corner of Ireland, which you and I have so often ignorantly ridiculed, I have met with the most perfect happiness which it has ever fallen to my lot to enjoy. At Glenalta I have found the kindest affection, the most genuine refinement, not confined to mere exterior observance assumed for strangers, but originating in the heart, and living in every action. I have been instructed and amused; and while each hour has done something towards the cultivation of feelings and powers which I did not imagine I possessed, I have never been once a prey to ennui, that constant and wearisome associate of my former life.

Dear Louisa, you have a good understanding and your heart is naturally lively, and even kind, if you were not perverted by the precepts, creeds, and example of that most dogmatizing of all human teachers—Fashion. Why not break the bonds that shackle your every thought, as well as action? Why not exchange the coarse, (alas, yes, I must speak truth) I say the coarse, unfeminine language of your last letter for that of true delicacy and female softness? My ears are new strung I suppose, for sounds which scarcely made a passing impression before I came to Ireland, now grate upon the organs of sense, and vibrate painfully to my heart.

When I picture to my mind the scene which is now acting in Grosvenor Square, I confess that I feel disgusted almost to estrangement from those who are the chief performers in such a drama; and you are very right in the belief that were there any means by which without lowering a mother's character, I could inform that arch-blockhead, whom she has entrapped, of the fraud that has been employed to take him in, I would certainly, in humbling his vanity, remove his blindness, and charitably catch him from the brink of a precipice. What a marriage you are brewing amongst you! Were you the victim about to be sacrificed on the altar of folly, I could not restrain my feelings, which would burst into immediate counteraction of a plot to destroy all happiness and respectability; and I am more quiescent on this occasion, not because I have always loved you so much better than Adelaide, but that I question the utility of endeavouring to snatch her from the evil to come. She has no strength of character: her mind is a mere machine, ready and willing to be worked upon by the arts of any juggler who can produce a certificate of skill in the only science respected by a world holding all things in abhorrence that do not present themselves clad in the trappings of rank and fortune.

If Adelaide were saved from falling into the hands of one profligate coxcomb, she would quickly throw herself into the arms of another. Crayton is not a designing man, and that is the only redeeming circumstance that I can see in his character—if the word character have any meaning when applied to a person who has none.

Say to my mother that, as a point of duty, I shall obey her mandate, and as soon as I am legally empowered to act, will do any thing to assist her which can be done without injuring a property too heavily burthened already. But, dear Louisa, you must prepare her, Adelaide, and yourself for my absence at the marriage ceremony: I cannot perform the part assigned to me. My mind revolts from participating in a trick, and I will never sanction the fraud by becoming a witness. I warn you of the evil, and I can do no more. We are totally unacquainted with my uncle, who may never give us a shilling, who may dislike when he is acquainted with his relations, and either marry, adopt a stranger for his heir, or leave his wealth to public charities. In short, we know nothing about him, and if it should turn out that the golden dreams with which my mother has dazzled the imagination of a man who has wasted his patrimony, and involved himself almost in ruin, melt in empty air, what consequences may not be anticipated? I turn with horror from the perspective, and dare not tell you all my fears! Crayton has an uncle too, and one from whom he expects the fortune, upon a reversionary hope of which, he has, to my knowledge, been trading for a long time past to supply the exigencies of the gambling table, to which he is obstinately addicted; and the pale face which you visited on a double dole of Burgundy, was probably attributable to a loss at play which, under existing circumstances, it would not be pleasant to reveal.

I have now said enough to put my mother and Adelaide on their guard. A little candour would easily bring the matter to a conclusion, and prevent the mischief which is likely to ensue; but it rests with them to determine. I am not asked to advise, and do not say that I am qualified to act as counsel for any one. I trust, however, that I may be forgiven for this unsolicited interference, on the score of brotherly feelings, which shrink from the projected alliance, splendid as it appears.

Louisa, should the day arrive, in which you become acquainted with the Douglas family, I am not without hope of your proselytism. What joy it would give me to see you like these charming girls, and I am the more impatient that it should be so, because you have all the materials which might promise a rich harvest, were they but used to advantage. I would stake more than I shall ever be worth, that you will delight in the society of our aunt and cousins, if you are ever introduced to them.

Say all that is affectionate to my mother and Adelaide, and add, that I give them present pain, to avoid for them a severer future pang. Adieu.

Your affectionate,
Arthur Howard.