Part 13 (1/2)

Are you _really_ in earnest, Miss Warley?

Really, Edmund.

Then, for heaven's sake, go to France.--But how can you tell, madam, he never intends to make proposals?

On which I related what pa.s.sed at table, the day Lord Allen dined at the Abbey.--Nothing could equal his astonishment; yet would he fain have persuaded me that I did not understand him;--call'd it misapprehension, and I know not what.

He _will_ offer you his hand, Miss Warley; he certainly _will_.--I've known him from a school-boy;--I'm acquainted with every turn of his mind;--I know his very looks;--I have observ'd them when they have been directed to you:--he will, I repeat,--he will offer you his hand.

No! Edmund:--but if he _did_, his overtures should be disregarded.

Say not so, Miss Warley; for G.o.d's sake, say not so again;--it kills me to think you _hate_ Lord Darcey.

I speak to you, Edmund, as a friend, as a brother:--never let what has pa.s.s'd escape your lips.

If I do, madam, what must I deserve?--To be shut out from your confidence is a punishment only fit for such a breach of trust.--But, for heaven's sake, do not _hate_ Lord Darcey.

Mr. Jenkings appeared at this juncture, and look'd displeas'd.--How strangely are we given to mistakes!--I betray'd the same confusion, as if I had been really carrying on a clandestine affair with his son.--In a very angry tone he said, I thought, Edmund, you was to a.s.sist me, knowing how much I had on my hands, before Lord Darcey sets out;--but I find business is not _your_ pursuit:--I believe I must consent to your going into the army, after all.--On which he b.u.t.ton'd up his coat, and went towards the Abbey, leaving me quite thunderstruck. Poor Edmund was as much chagrined as myself.--A moment after I saw Mr. Jenkings returning with a countenance very different,--and taking me apart from his son, said, I cannot forgive myself, my dear young Lady;--can you forgive me for the rudeness I have just committed?--I am an old man, Miss Warley;--I have many things to perplex me;--I should not,--I know I should _not_, have spoke so sharply to Edmund, when you had honour'd him with your company.

I made him easy by my answer; and since I have not seen a cloud on his brow.--I shall never think more, with concern, of Mr. Jenkings's suspicions.--Your Ladys.h.i.+p's last letter,--oh! how sweetly tender!

tells me _he_ has _motives_ to which _I_ am a stranger.

We spent a charming day, last Monday, at Lord Allen's. Most of the neighbouring families were met there, to commemorate the happy festival.--Mr. Morgan made one of the party, and return'd with us to the Abbey, where he proposes waiting the arrival of his G.o.dson, Mr.

Powis.--If I have any penetration, most of his fortune will center _there_,--For my part, I am not a little proud of stealing into his good graces:--I don't know for what, but Lady Powis tells me, I am one of his first favourites; he has presented me a pretty little grey horse, beautifully caparison'd; and hopes he says, to make me a good horsewoman.

As I have promis'd to be at the Abbey early, I shall close this letter; and, if I have an opportunity, will write another by the same packet.--Believe me ever, my dearest Lady, your most grateful and affectionate

F. WARLEY.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

BARFORD ABBEY,

A NOVEL:

IN A

SERIES of LETTERS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.