was I to choose of two thousand pounds a year or twenty thousand, the
first would be my choice. There is something of an unavoidable
_embarras_ in making what is called a great figure in the world; [it]
takes off from the happiness of life; I hate the noise and hurry
inseparable from great estates and titles, and look upon both as
blessings that ought only to be given to fools, for 'tis only to them
that they are blessings. The pretty fellows you speak of, I own
entertain me sometimes; but is it impossible to be diverted with what
one despises? I can laugh at a puppet-show; at the same time I know
there is nothing in it worth my attention or regard. General notions are
generally wrong. Ignorance and folly are thought the best foundations
for virtue, as if not knowing what a good wife is was necessary to make
one so. I confess that can never be my way of reasoning; as I always
forgive an _injury_ when I think it not done out of malice, I never
think myself _obliged_ by what is done without design."

Lady Mary, who was now one-and-twenty, was no bread-and-butter miss. She
knew her mind and had the gift to express herself, and in this same
letter she very prettily rebukes her laggard lover.

"Give me leave to say it, (I know it sounds vain,) I know how to make a
man of sense happy; but then that man must resolve to contribute
something towards it himself. I have so much esteem for you, I should be
very sorry to hear you was unhappy; but for the world I would not be the
instrument of making you so; which (of the humour you are) is hardly to
be avoided if I am your wife. You distrust me--I can neither be easy,
nor loved, where I am distrusted. Nor do I believe your passion for me
is what you pretend it; at least I am sure was I in love I could not
talk as you do. Few women would have spoke so plainly as I have done;
but to dissemble is among the things I never do. I take more pains to
approve my conduct to myself than to the world; and would not have to
accuse myself of a minute's deceit. I wish I loved you enough to devote
myself to be for ever miserable, for the pleasure of a day or two's
happiness. I cannot resolve upon it. You must think otherwise of me, or
not at all."

"I don't enjoin you to burn this letter," she said in conclusion. "I
know you will. 'Tis the first I ever writ to one of your sex, and shall
be the last. You must never expect another. I resolve against all
correspondence of the kind--my resoluti