Edward now found himself able to conduct a correspondence.  He despatched the following:—­

“My Dear Dahlia,—­Of course I cannot expect you to be aware of the bewildering occupations of a country house, where a man has literally not five minutes’ time to call his own; so I pass by your reproaches.  My father has gone at last.  He has manifested an extraordinary liking for my society, and I am to join him elsewhere —­perhaps run over to Paris (your city)—­but at present for a few days I am my own master, and the first thing I do is to attend to your demands:  not to write ‘two lines,’ but to give you a good long letter.

   “What on earth makes you fancy me unwell?  You know I am never
   unwell.  And as to your nursing me—­when has there ever been any
   need for it?

“You must positively learn patience.  I have been absent a week or so, and you talk of coming down here and haunting the house!  Such ghosts as you meet with strange treatment when they go about unprotected, let me give you warning.  You have my full permission to walk out in the Parks for exercise.  I think you are bound to do it, for your health’s sake.

“Pray discontinue that talk about the alteration in your looks.  You must learn that you are no longer a child.  Cease to write like a child.  If people stare at you, as you say, you are very well aware it is not because you are becoming plain.  You do not mean it, I know; but there is a disingenuousness in remarks of this sort that is to me exceedingly distasteful.  Avoid the shadow of hypocrisy.  Women are subject to it—­and it is quite innocent, no doubt.  I won’t lecture you.

“My cousin Algernon is here with me.  He has not spoken of your sister.  Your fears in that direction are quite unnecessary.  He is attached to a female cousin of ours, a very handsome person, witty, and highly sensible, who dresses as well as the lady you talk about having seen one day in Wrexby Church.  Her lady’s-maid is a Frenchwoman, which accounts for it.  You have not forgotten the boulevards?

“I wish you to go on with your lessons in French.  Educate yourself, and you will rise superior to these distressing complaints.  I recommend you to read the newspapers daily.  Buy nice picture-books, if the papers are too matter-of-fact for you.  By looking eternally inward, you teach yourself to fret, and the consequence is, or will be, that you wither.  No constitution can stand it.  All the ladies here take an interest in Parliamentary affairs.  They can talk to men upon men’s themes.  It is impossible to explain to you how wearisome an everlasting nursery prattle becomes.  The idea that men ought never to tire of it is founded on some queer belief that they are not mortal.

“Parliament opens in February.  My father wishes me to stand for Selborough.  If he or some one will do the talking to the tradesmen,