to see us all well married, that is, united to rich partners. It is not
my idea of being well married, but she means it all for the best. She
says when I am safe off her hands it will be such a relief to her mind;
and she assures me it will be a good thing for the family as well as for
me. Even Walter is pleased at the prospect, and when I confessed my
reluctance to him, he said it was all childish nonsense. Do you think it
nonsense, Helen? I should not care if I could see any prospect of being
able to love and admire him, but I can't. There is nothing about him to
hang one's esteem and affection upon; he is so diametrically opposite to
what I imagined my husband should be. Do write to me, and say all you
can to encourage me. Don't attempt to dissuade me, for my fate is fixed:
preparations for the important event are already going on around me; and
don't say a word against Mr. Hattersley, for I want to think well of him;
and though I have spoken against him myself, it is for the last time:
hereafter, I shall never permit myself to utter a word in his dispraise,
however he may seem to deserve it; and whoever ventures to speak
slightingly of the man I have promised to love, to honour, and obey, must
expect my serious displeasure. After all, I think he is quite as good as
Mr. Huntingdon, if not better; and yet you love him, and seem to be happy
and contented; and perhaps I may manage as well. You must tell me, if
you can, that Mr. Hattersley is better than he seems--that he is upright,
honourable, and open-hearted--in fact, a perfect diamond in the rough.
He may be all this, but I don't know him. I know only the exterior, and
what, I trust, is the worst part of him.'

She concludes with 'Good-by, dear Helen. I am waiting anxiously for your
advice--but mind you let it be all on the right side.'

Alas! poor Milicent, what encouragement can I give you? or what
advice--except that it is better to make a bold stand now, though at the
expense of disappointing and angering both mother and brother and lover,
than to devote your whole life, hereafter, to misery and vain regret?

Saturday, 13th.--The week is over, and he is not come. All the sweet
summer is passing away without one breath of pleasure to me or benefit to
him. And I had all along been looking forward to this season with the
fond, delusive hope that we should enjoy it so sweetly together; and
that, with God's help and my exertions, it would be the means