Mr Longestaffe had brought his daughter down to Caversham on a Wednesday. During the Thursday and Friday she had passed a very sad time, not knowing whether she was or was not engaged to marry Mr Brehgert. Her father had declared to her that he would break off the match, and she believed that he had seen Mr Brehgert with that purpose. She had certainly given no consent, and had never hinted to any one of the family an idea that she was disposed to yield. But she felt that, at any rate with her father, she had not adhered to her purpose with tenacity, and that she had allowed him to return to London with a feeling that she might still be controlled. She was beginning to be angry with Mr Brehgert, thinking that he had taken his dismissal from her father without consulting her. It was necessary that something should be settled, something known. Life such as she was leading now would drive her mad. She had all the disadvantages of the Brehgert connection and none of the advantages. She could not comfort herself with thinking of the Brehgert wealth and the Brehgert houses, and yet she was living under the general ban of Caversham on account of her Brehgert associations. She was beginning to think that she herself must write to Mr Brehgert,--only she did not know what to say to him.
But on the Saturday morning she got a letter from Mr Brehgert. It was handed to her as she was sitting at breakfast with her sister,--who at that moment was triumphant with a present of gooseberries which had been sent over from Toodlam. The Toodlam gooseberries were noted throughout Suffolk, and when the letters were being brought in Sophia was taking her lover's offering from the basket with her own fair hands. 'Well!' Georgey had exclaimed, 'to send a pottle of gooseberries to his lady love across the country! Who but George Whitstable would do that?'
'I dare say you get nothing but gems and gold,' Sophy retorted. 'I don't suppose that Mr Brehgert knows what a gooseberry is.' At that moment the letter was brought in, and Georgiana knew the writing. 'I suppose that's from Mr Brehgert,' said Sophy.
'I don't think it matters much to you who it's from.' She tried to be composed and stately, but the letter was too important to allow of composure, and she retired to read it in privacy.
The letter was as follows:-MY DEAR GEORGIANA, Your father came to me the day after I was to have met you at Lady Monogram's party. I told him then that I would not write to you till I had taken a day or two to consider what he said to me;--and also that I thought it better that you should have a day or two to consider what he might say to you. He has now repeated what he said at our first interview, almost with more violence; for I must say that I think he has allowed himself to be violent when it was surely unnecessary.