mplicity is
as deceiving as the depth of cunning," Adela despairingly wrote, much to
Wilfrid's amusement.

A third letter followed. It was of another tenor, and ran thus, in
Adela's handwriting:

"My Darling Wilfrid,

"We have always known that some peculiar assistance would never be
wanting in our extremity--aid, or comfort, or whatever you please to
call it. At all events, something to show we are not neglected. That old
notion of ours must be true. I shall say nothing of our sufferings
in the house. They continue. Yesterday, papa came from town, looking
important. He had up some of his best wine for dinner. All through
the service his eyes were sparkling on Cornelia. I spare you a family
picture, while there is this huge blot on it. Naughty brother! But,
listen! your place is here, for many reasons, as you will be quick
enough to see. After dinner, papa took Cornelia into the library alone,
and they were together for ten minutes. She came out very pale. She had
been proposed for by Sir Twickenham Pryme, our Member for the borough. I
have always been sure that Cornelia was born for Parliament, and he will
be lucky if he wins her. We know not yet, of course, what her decision
will be. The incident is chiefly remarkable to us as a relief to what I
need not recount to you. But I wish to say one thing, dear Wilfrid. You
are gazetted to a lieutenancy, and we congratulate you: but what I have
to say is apparently much more trifling, and it is, that--will you take
it to heart?--it would do Arabella and myself infinite good if we saw a
little more of our brother, and just a little less of a very gentlemanly
organ-player phenomenon, who talks so exceedingly well. He is a very
pleasant man, and appreciates our ideas, and so forth; but it is our
duty to love our brother best, and think of him foremost, and we wish
him to come and remind us of our duty.

"At our Cornelia's request, with our concurrence, papa is silent in the
house as to the purport of the communication made by Sir T.P.

"By the way, are you at all conscious of a sound-like absurdity in
a Christian name of three syllables preceding a surname of one? Sir
Twickenham Pryme! Cornelia's pronunciation of the name first gave me
the feeling. The 'Twickenham' seems to perform a sort of educated
monkey kind of ridiculously decorous pirouette and entrechat before the
'Pryme.' I think that Cornelia feels it also. You seem to fancy elastic
limbs bending to the measure of