Gutenberg Literary Edition #9414

“I am more grieved than I can express, my dearest Miss Walsingham, by a cruel _contre-temps_, which must prevent my indulging myself in the long-promised and long-expected pleasure of being at your _fête de famille_ on Tuesday, to celebrate your dear father’s birthday. I trust, however, to your conciliating goodness, my kind young friend, to represent my distress properly to Mr. Walsingham. Make him sensible, I conjure you, that my _heart_ is with you all, and assure him that this is no common apology. Indeed, I never employ such artifices with my friends: to them, and to you in particular, my dear, I always speak with perfect frankness and candour. Amelia, with whom, _entre nous_, you are more a favourite than ever, is so much vexed and mortified by this disappointment, that I see I shall not be restored to favour till I can fix a day for going to you: yet when that may be, circumstances, which I should not feel myself quite justified in mentioning, will not permit me to decide.

“Kindest regards and affectionate remembrances to all your dear circle.--Any news of the young captain? Any hopes of his return from sea?

“Ever with perfect truth, my dearest Miss Walsingham’s sincere friend,

“To be candid with you, my dear young friend, my secret reason for denying myself the pleasure of Tuesday’s fête is, that I have just heard that there is a shocking chicken-pox in the village near you; and I confess it is one of my weaknesses to dread even the bare rumour of such a thing, on account of my Amelia: but I should not wish to have this mentioned in your house, because you must be sensible your father would think it an idle womanish fear; and you know how anxious I am for his esteem.