Read it through once

Speaking generally, we shall find that whenever Miss Mitford writes of Love in her correspondence, she does so half-disparagingly, a matter of significance to all who recognize what dissemblers women are on such a topic! M. St. Quintin’s birthday was, also, the birthday of his sister Victoire, who was at this time languishing for love of a fickle young man. “Victoire was in no spirits to enjoy it,” wrote Miss Mitford. “Her lover has just gone into the country for six months without coming to any declaration. Of course it is all off; and she only heard this dismal news the night before. I doubt not but she will soon get over it, for she is quite accustomed to these sorts of disappointments.” A week later the topic was again referred to. “‘The winds and the waves,’ says the sagacious Mr. Puff, ‘are the established receptacles of the sighs and tears of unhappy lovers.’ Now, my dear mamma, as there is little wind in this heated atmosphere, and as the muddy waters of the Thames would scarcely be purified by the crystal tears of all the gentle lovers in the metropolis, it would almost seem that my evil destiny has fixed on me to supply their place; for, from the staid and prudent lover of fifty, to the poor languishing maiden of twenty-five, I am the general confidante, and sighs and blushes, hopes and fears, are ‘all poured into my faithful bosom.’ It is inconceivable how that mischievous little urchin deadens all the faculties. Mary Mitford [her cousin] was bad enough, but even she was more rational than Victoire at this moment.” Thus Miss Mitford on the love-affairs of others.