My aunt Eleanor has written a congratulatory letter to me from York. Sir
Charles, it seems, had acquainted her with Lord G----'s day, [Not my day,
Harriet! that is not the phrase, I hope!] as soon as he knew it himself;
and she writes, supposing that I was actually offered on it. Women are
victims on these occasions: I hope you'll allow me that. My brother has
made it a point of duty to acquaint his father's sister with every matter
of consequence to the family; and now, she says, that both her nieces are
so well disposed of, she will come to town very quickly to see her new
relations and us; and desires we will make room for her. And yet she
owns, that my brother has informed her of his being obliged to go abroad;
and she supposes him gone. As he is the beloved of her heart, I wonder
she thinks of making this visit now he is absent: but we shall all be
glad to see my aunt Nell. She is a good creature, though an old maid. I
hope the old lady has not utterly lost either her invention, or memory;
and then, between both, I shall be entertained with a great number of
love-stories of the last age; and perhaps of some dangers and escapes;
which may serve for warnings for Emily. Alas! alas! they will come too
late for your Charlotte!
I have written already the longest letter that I ever wrote in my life:
yet it is prating; and to you, to whom I love to prate.
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