Part 39 (1/2)

I am just returned from St. James's-square.

But, first, I should tell you, that I had a visit from Lady Olivia and Lady Maffei. Our conversation was in Italian and French. Lady Olivia and I had a quarter of an hour's discourse in private: you may guess at our subject. She is not without that tenderness of heart which is the indispensable characteristic of a woman. She lamented the violence of her temper, in a manner so affecting, that I cannot help pitying her, though at the instant I had in my head a certain attempt, that makes me shudder whenever I think of it. She regrets my going to Northamptons.h.i.+re so soon. I have promised to return her visit to-morrow in the afternoon.

She sets out on Friday next for Oxford. She wished I could accompany her. She resolves to see all that is worth seeing in the western circuit, as I may call it. She observes, she says, that Sir Charles Grandison's sisters, and their lords, are very particularly engaged at present; and are in expectation of a call to Windsor, to attend Lord W----'s nuptials: she will therefore, having attendants enough, and two men of consideration in her train, one of whom is not unacquainted with England, take cursory tours over the kingdom; having a taste for travelling, and finding it a great relief to her spirits: and when Lady L---- and Lady G---- are more disengaged, will review the seats and places which she shall think worthy of a second visit, in their company.

She professed to like the people here, and the face of the country; and talked favourably of the religion of it: but, poor woman! she likes all those the better, I doubt not, for the sake of one Englishman. Love, Lucy, gilds every object which bears a relation to the person beloved.

Lady Maffei was very free in blaming her niece for this excursion. She took her chiding patiently; but yet, like a person that thought it too much in her power to gratify the person blaming her, to pay much regard to what she said.

I took a chair to Lady G----'s. Emily ran to meet me in the hall. She threw her arms about me: I rejoice you are come, said she. Did you not meet the house in the square?--What means my Emily?--Why, it has been flung out of the windows, as the saying is. Ah madam! we are all to pieces. One so careless, the other so pa.s.sionate!--But, hus.h.!.+ Here comes Lady G----.

Take, Lucy, in the dialogue-way, particulars.

LADY G. Then you are come, at last, Harriet. You wrote, that you would not come near me.

HAR. I did; but I could not stay away. Ah, Lady G----, you will destroy your own happiness!

LADY G. So you wrote. Not one word, on the subject you hint at, that you have ever said or written before. I hate repet.i.tions, child.

HAR. Then I must be silent upon it.

LADY G. Not of necessity. You can say new things upon old subjects.-- But hus.h.!.+ Here comes the man.--She ran to her harpsichord--Is this it, Harriet? and touched the keys--repeating

”Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon she sooth'd---- ----”

ENTER LORD G.

LORD G. Miss Byron, I am your most obedient servant. The sight of you rejoices my soul.--Madam (to his lady), you have not been long enough together to begin a tune. I know what this is for--

LADY G. Harmony! harmony! is a charming thing! But I, poor I! know not any but what this simple instrument affords me.

LORD G. [Lifting up his hands.] Harmony, madam! G.o.d is my witness-- But I will lay every thing before Miss Byron.

LADY G. You need not, my lord: she knows as much as she can know, already; except the fine colourings be added to the woeful tale, that your unbridled spirit can give it.--Have you my long letter about you, Harriet?

LORD G. And could you, madam, have the heart to write--

LADY G. Why, my lord, do you mince the matter? For heart, say courage. You may speak as plain in Miss Byron's presence, as you did before she came: I know what you mean.

LORD G. Let it be courage, then.

HAR. Fie, fie, Lord G----! Fie, fie, Lady G----! What lengths do you run! If I understand the matter right, you have both, like children, been at play, till you have fallen out.

LORD G. If, Miss Byron, you know the truth, and can blame me--

HAR. I blame you only, my lord, for being in a pa.s.sion. You see, my lady is serene: she keeps her temper: she looks as if she wanted to be friends with you.

LORD G. O that cursed serenity!--When my soul is torn by a whirlwind--