interesting you in their affairs.

Be sure you chide me for my whimsical behaviour to Lord G----. I know
you will. But don't blame my heart: my head only is wrong.

***

A little more from fresh informations of this sorry varlet Everard. I
wished him to suffer; but I wished him not to be so very great a sufferer
as it seems he is. Sharpers have bit his head off, quite close to his
shoulders: they have not left it him to carry under his arm, as the
honest patron of France did his. They lend it him, however, now and
then, to repent with, and curse himself. The creature he attended to
Cuper's Gardens, instead of a country innocent, as he expected her to be,
comes out to be a cast mistress, experienced in all the arts of such, and
acting under the secret influences of a man of quality; who, wanting to
get rid of her, supports her in a prosecution commenced against him (poor
devil!) for performance of covenants. He was extremely mortified, on
finding my brother gone abroad: he intends to apply to him for his pity
and help. Sorry fellow! He boasted to us, on our expectation of our
brother's arrival from abroad, that he would enter his cousin Charles
into the ways of the town. Now he wants to avail himself against the
practices of the sons of that town by his cousin's character and
consequence.

A combination of sharpers, it seems, had long set him as a man of
fortune: but, on his taking refuge with my brother, gave over for a
time their designs upon him, till he threw himself again in their way.

The worthless fellow had been often liberal of his promises of marriage
to young creatures of more innocence than this; and thinks it very hard
that he should be prosecuted for a crime which he had so frequently
committed with impunity. Can you pity him? I cannot, I assure you. The
man who can betray and ruin an innocent woman, who loves him, ought to be
abhorred by men. Would he scruple to betray and ruin them, if he were
not afraid of the law?--Yet there are women, who can forgive such
wretches, and herd with them.

My aunt Eleanor is arrived: a good, plump, bonny-faced old virgin. She
has chosen her apartment. At present we are most prodigiously civil to
each other: but already I suspect she likes Lord G---- better than I
would have her. She will perhaps, if a party should be formed against
your poor Charlotte, make one of it.

Will you think it time thrown away, to read a further account of what is
come to hand about