Part 3 (1/2)
Vastly good, my Lord.--What, before he prays for himself?--_This_ shews your Lords.h.i.+p's _very_ high notions of grat.i.tude.
We have high notions of every thing.--Bucks and bloods, as we are call'd,--you may go to the devil before you will find a set of honester fellows.
To the _Devil_, my Lord!--That's true, I believe.
He was going to reply when the three choice spirits came up, and hurried him, away to the Tuns.
A word to _you_, Darcey.--Surely you are never serious in the ridiculous design.--Not offer yourself to Miss Warley, whilst she continues in that neighbourhood?--the very spot on which you ought to secure her,--unless you think all the young fellows who visit at the Abbey are blind, except yourself.--_Why_, you are jealous _already_;--_jealous_ of _Edmund_.--Perhaps _even I_ may become one of your tormentors.--If I like her I shall as certainly tell her _so, as_ that my name is
MOLESWORTH.
[Here two Letters are omitted, one from Lady MARY to Miss WARLEY,--and one from Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY.]
LETTER VIII.
Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.
From Mr. _Jenkings's_.
Ah! my dear Lady, how kind,--how inexpressibly kind, to promise I shall one day know what has put an end to the intimacy between the two Ladies I _so_ much revere.
To find your Ladys.h.i.+p has still a high opinion of Lady Powis, has filled me with pleasure.--Fear of the reverse often threw a damp on my heart, whilst receiving the most tender caresses.--You bid me love her!--You say I cannot love her too well!--_This_ is a command my heart springs forward to obey.
Unhappy family!--What a loss does it sustain by the absence of Mr.
Powis?--_No_, I can never forgive the Lady who has occasioned this source of sorrow.--Why is her name concealed?--But what would it benefit me to come at a knowledge of it?
Pity Sir James should rather see such a son _great_ than happy.--Six thousand a year, _yet_ covet a fortune twice as large!--Love of riches makes strange wreck in the human heart.
Why did Mr. Powis leave his native country?--The refusal of a Lady with whom he only sought an union in obedience to his father, could not _greatly_ affect him.--Was not such an overture _without_ affection,--_without_ inclination,--a blot in his fair character?--Certainly it was.--Your Ladys.h.i.+p seems to think Sir James only to blame.--I dare not have presumed to offer my opinion, had you not often told me, it betray'd a meanness to hide our real sentiments, when call'd upon to declare them.
Lady Powis yesterday obliged me with a sight of several letters from her son.--_I_ am not mistress of a stile like _his_, or your Ladys.h.i.+p would have been spar'd numberless tedious moments.--Such extraordinary deckings are seldom to be met with in common minds.
I told Lady Powis, last evening, that I should devote this day to my pen;--so I shall not be sent for;--a favour I am sure to have conferr'd if I am not at the Abbey soon after breakfast.--Lord Darcey is frequently my escort.--I am pleased to see that young n.o.bleman regard Edmund as if of equal rank with himself.
Heavens! his Lords.h.i.+p is here!--full-dressed, and just alighted from the coach,--to fetch me, I fear.--I shall know in a moment; Mrs. Jenkings is coming up.
Even so.--It vexes me to be thus taken off from my agreeable task;--yet I cannot excuse myself,--her Ladys.h.i.+p is importunate.--She sends me word I _must_ come;--that I _must_ return with Lord Darcey.--Mrs. Finch is accidentally dropp'd in with her son.--I knew the latter was expected to meet two gentlemen from Bath,--one of them an intimate friend of Lord Darcey.--Mrs. Finch is an amiable woman;--it is to her Lady Powis wants to introduce me.
_Your Servant, my Lord_.--A very genteel way to hasten me down--impatient, I suppose, to see his friend from Bath.--_Well_, Jenny, tell his Lords.h.i.+p it will be needless to have the horses taken out.--I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour.--Adieu, my dear Lady.
Eleven o'clock at night.
Every thing has conspired to make this day more than commonly agreeable.--It requires the pen of a Littelton to paint the different graces which shone in conversation.--As no such pen is at hand, will your Ladys.h.i.+p receive from _mine_ a short description of the company at the Abbey?
Mrs. Finch is about seven and forty;--her person plain,--her mind lovely,--her bosom fraught with happiness.--She dispenses it promiscuously.--Every smile,--every accent,--conveys it to all around her.--A countenance engagingly open.--Her purse too, I am told, when occasions offer, open as her heart.--How largely is she repaid for her balsamic gifts,--by seeing those virtues early planted in the mind of her son, spring up and shoot in a climate where a blight is almost contagious!