addressed to John Skelton, Esq., and began as follows.--

"My Dear Skelton,

"You are, doubtless, surprised at my long silence, but I have had nothing
very particular to say. My visit to this dull and uncomfortable place was
(as you rightly surmise) not without its object--a little bit of wicked
romance; the pretty demoiselle of Rouen, whom I mentioned to you more
than once--la belle de Barras--was, in truth, the attraction that drew me
hither; and I think (for, as yet, she affects hesitation), I shall have
no further trouble with her. She is a fine creature, and you will admit,
when you have seen her, well worth taking some trouble about. She is,
however, a very knowing little minx, and evidently suspects me of being a
sad, fickle dog--and, as I surmise, has some plans, moreover, respecting
my morose cousin, Marston, a kind of wicked Penruddock, who has carried
all his London tastes into his savage retreat, a paradise of bogs and
bushes. There is, I am very confident, a liaison in that quarter. The
young lady is evidently a good deal afraid of him, and insists upon such
precautions in our interviews, that they have been very few, and far
between, indeed. Today, there has been a fracas of some kind. I have no
doubt that Marston, poor devil, is jealous. His situation is really
pitiably comic--with an intriguing mistress, a saintly wife, and a devil
of a jealous temper of his own. I shall meet Mary on reaching town. Has
Clavering (shabby dog!) paid his I.O.U. yet? Tell the little opera woman
she had better be quiet. She ought to know me by this time; I shall do
what is right, but won't submit to be bullied. If she is troublesome,
snap your fingers at her, on my behalf, and leave her to her remedy. I
have written to Gray, to get things at Wynston in order. She will draw
upon you for what money she requires. Send down two or three of the
servants, if they have not already gone. The place is very dusty and