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Something happened to you then which shot you up into a woman,
and I lost my little Bessie. But how absurdly I am writing, as if I
were your lover, instead of your cousin, and as good as engaged to
Blanche. I suppose mother would break her heart if I did not marry
that L10,000 a year. I used to say I wouldn't, you know; but, _nous
verrons_; what I wish to tell you now is, that I am coming to
Stoneleigh for the holidays. Mother wishes me to go with her and
Blanche to some stupid place near Edinburgh, and we have had a jolly
row about it, but I prefer Stoneleigh and you; so you may expect me
the 23rd, on the evening train from Bangor; and please tell old
Dorothy to have a roasting fire in my room, which you know is
something after the stable order, and oh, if she would have
plum-pudding and chicken-pie for dinner! You see, I make myself
quite at home at Stoneleigh, and I have a weakness for the good
things of this world. I do not believe I was cut out for a poor man.


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