Anna St. Ives | Page 3

Oh that I may be deceived, but I fear you expect too much from my
brother. Oh that he might be worthy of my Anna! Not for my own sake;
for, as she truly says, we [That is our souls, for I know of no other we].
We cannot be more akin; but for his own. He is the son of my beloved
mother, and most devoutly do I wish he might be found deserving of
her and you. He would then be more deserving than any man, at least
any young man, I have ever known. Though brother and sister, he and I
may be said to have but little acquaintance. He has always been either
at school, or at college, or in town, or on his travels, or in some place
where I did not happen to be, except for short intervals. I have told you
that his person is not displeasing, that his temper appears to be prompt
and daring, but gay, and that his manners I doubt are of that free kind
which our young gentlemen affect.
To say the truth however, I have heard much in favour of Coke Clifton;
but then it has generally been either from persons whose good word
was in my opinion no praise, or from others who evidently meant to be
civil to me, or to the family, by speaking well of my brother. I believe
him to have much pride, some ambition, a high sense of fashionable
honour; that he spurns at threats, disdains reproof, and that he does not
want generosity, or those accomplishments which would make him
pass with the world for a man whose alliance would be desirable. But
the husband of my Anna [you perceive I have caught your tone, and use
the word husband as familiarly as if there were any serious intention of
such an event, and as if it were any thing more than the sportive
effusion of fancy, or rather the momentary expansion of friendship] the

husband of my Anna ought to be more, infinitely more, than what the
world understands by such phrases; if it can be said to understand
anything. Forgive the jingle, but, to pair with her, he ought to be her
peer. And yet if she wait till time shall send her such a one, and that
one every way proper for her alliance, in her father's opinion as well as
in her own, I am afraid her chance of marriage will be infinitely small.
Were I but assured that Coke Clifton would be as kind and as worthy a
husband, to Anna St. Ives, as any other whom it were probable accident
should ever throw in her way, I should then indeed seriously wish such
a thought might be something more than the transient flight of fancy.
But enough. You are on the wing to the city where you and he will
probably meet. Examine him well; forget his sister; be true to yourself
and your own judgment, and I have no fear that you should be deceived.
If he prove better even than a sister's hopes, he will find in me more
than a sister's love.
I like Sir Arthur's favourite, Abimelech Henley, still less than you do.
My fears indeed are rather strong. When once a taste for improvement
[I mean building and gardening improvement] becomes a passion,
gaming itself is scarcely more ruinous. I have no doubt that Sir Arthur's
fortune has suffered, and is suffering severely; and that while that
miserly wretch, Abimelech, is destroying the fabric, he is purloining
and carrying off the best of the materials. I doubt whether there be an
acre of land in the occupation of Sir Arthur, which has not cost ten
times its intrinsic value to make it better. It is astonishing how Sir
Arthur can be [pardon the expression, my dear] such a dupe! I have
before blamed, and must again blame you, for not exerting yourself
sufficiently to shew him his folly. It concerns the family, it concerns
yourself, nearly. Who can tell how far off the moment is when it may
be too late? My mamma has just heard of a new mortgage, in procuring
of which the worthy Abimelech acted, or pretended to act, as agent: for
I assure you I suspect he was really the principal. During my last visit,
if I do not mistake, I several times saw the pride of wealth betraying
itself; and only subdued by the superior thirst of gain.
Poor Frank Henley! Is it not miraculous that such a father should have

such a son? I am tempted to give utterance to a strange thought! Why
should I not? What is the opinion of the world; what are its prejudices,
in the presence of truth? Yet not