Churchhill.


My dear Mother,--Mr. Vernon returned on Thursday night, bringing his
niece with him. Lady Susan had received a line from him by that day's post,
informing her that Miss Summers had absolutely refused to allow of Miss
Vernon's continuance in her academy; we were therefore prepared for her
arrival, and expected them impatiently the whole evening. They came while
we were at tea, and I never saw any creature look so frightened as
Frederica when she entered the room. Lady Susan, who had been shedding
tears before, and showing great agitation at the idea of the meeting,
received her with perfect self-command, and without betraying the least
tenderness of spirit. She hardly spoke to her, and on Frederica's bursting
into tears as soon as we were seated, took her out of the room, and did not
return for some time. When she did, her eyes looked very red and she was as
much agitated as before. We saw no more of her daughter. Poor Reginald was
beyond measure concerned to see his fair friend in such distress, and
watched her with so much tender solicitude, that I, who occasionally caught
her observing his countenance with exultation, was quite out of patience.
This pathetic representation lasted the whole evening, and so ostentatious
and artful a display has entirely convinced me that she did in fact feel
nothing. I am more angry with her than ever since I have seen her daughter;
the poor girl looks so unhappy that my heart aches for her. Lady Susan is
surely too severe, for Frederica does not seem to have the sort of temper
to make severity necessary. She looks perfectly timid, dejected, and
penitent. She is very pretty, though not so handsome as her mother, nor at
all like her. Her complexion is delicate, but neither so fair nor so
blooming as Lady Susan's, and she has quite the Vernon cast of countenance,
the oval face and mild dark eyes, and there is peculiar sweetness in her
look when she speaks either to her uncle or me, for as we behave kindly to