I wanted him to relate to me all the particulars of his friend Frederick, the late Baron's, misfortunes. He says, the recital would fill a volume, but that I shall peruse some papers on the subject some time or other, when we are tired of being chearful, but that now we have better employment; I therefore submit for the present. I admire my sister's choice very much; he is an agreeable man, and extremely lively: much more so naturally, notwithstanding the airs some folks give themselves, than my Proteus. Louisa too is quite alive; Mr. Stanley has forgot the gout; and my father is ready to dance at the wedding of his eldest daughter, which, I suppose, will take place soon. Pray how do you go on? Are you near your _accouchement_? or dare you venture to travel as far as Stanley-park? for my uncle will not part with any of us yet. Ah! I can write no longer; they threaten to snatch the pen from my hand; that I may prevent such a solecism in politeness, I will conclude, by assuring you of my tenderest wishes. Adieu! JULIA STANLEY. LETTER LXI. TO Lady STANLEY. Upon my word, a pretty kind of a romantic adventure you have made of it, and the conclusion of the business just as it should be, and quite in the line of _poetical justice_. Virtue triumphant, and Vice dragged at her chariot-wheels,--for I heard yesterday, that Lord Biddulph was selling off all his moveables, and had moved himself out of the kingdom. Now my old friend Montague should be sent on board the Justitia, and _all's well that ends well_. As to your Proteus, with all his _aliases_, I think he must be quite a Machiavel in artifice. Heaven send he may never change again! I should be half afraid of such a Will-of-the-wisp lover. First this, then that, now the other, and always the same. But bind him, bind him, Julia, in adamantine chains; make sure of him, while he is yet in your power; and follow, with all convenient speed, the dance your sister is going to lead off. Oh! she is in a mighty hurry! Let me hear what she will say when she has been married ten months, as poor I have been! and here must be kept prisoner with all the dispositions in the world for freedom! What an acquisition your two husbands will be! I bespeak them both for god-fathers; pray tell them so. Do you know, I wanted to persuade Sir George to take a trip, just to see how you proceed in this affair; but, I blush to tell you, he would not hear of any such thing, because he is in expectation of a little impertinent visitor, and would not be from home for the world. _Tell it not in Gath_. Thank heaven, the dissolute tribe in London know nothing of it. But, I believe, none of our set will be anxious about their sentiments. While we feel ourselves happy, we shall think it no sacrifice to give up all the nonsense and hurry of the _beau monde._ Adieu! MARIA BRUDENEL. FINIS. End of Project Gutenberg's The Sylph, Volume I and II, by Georgiana Cavendish