Part 19 (2/2)

_Dover_.

Risby, I am lifted above myself!--I am overcome with surprise!--I am mad with joy!--Is it possible!--can it be!--But Lord Darcey's servant has swore it;--yes, he has swore, a letter directed in Miss Powis's _own_ hand, lay on the counter in a banker's shop where he went to change a bill: the direction was to Lady Mary Sutton:--he has put many for the same Lady into the post-office.--I _run_, I _ride_ or rather _fly_ to town.

You may jump, you may sing, but command your features before the family.--Should it be a mistake of John's, we kill them twice.

If I live to see the resurrection of our hopes, John shall be with you instantly.--On second thought, I will not dispatch this, unless we have a bless'd certainty.

Molesworth.

LETTER x.x.xIV.

The Honourable George Molesworth to the same.

_London_.

Are you a mile from the Abbey, d.i.c.k?--Are you out of sight,--out of hearing?--John, though you should offer to kill him, dare not deliver letter or message 'till you are at a proper distance.

Miss Powis lives!--Restore peace within the walls.--As I hope to be pardon'd for my sins, I have seen, I have spoke to her.--She lives!--Heavenly sound! it should be convey'd to them from above.--She lives! let me again repeat it.--Proclaim the joyful tidings:--but for particulars have patience 'till I return to the man, to the friend my life is bound up in.--I have seen him in every stage. Brightest has he shone, as the taper came nearer to an end.--The rich cordial must be administered one drop at a time.--Observe the caution.

Molesworth.

LETTER x.x.xV.

Captain Risby to the Honourable George Molesworth.

_Barford Abby_.

Well, Molesworth,--well--I can go no farther;--yet I _must;--John_, poor faithful _John_, says I _must_;--says he shall be sent back again.--But I have lost the use of my fingers:--my head bobs from side to side like a pendulum. Don't stamp, don't swear: they have a few drops of your cordial more than I intended.--It operates well.--I long to administer a larger potion.--Could you see how I am s.h.i.+fted--now here--now there--by the torrent of joy, that like a deluge almost drives reason before it;--I say, could you see me, you would not wonder at the few unconnected lines of

Yours,

Risby.

LETTER x.x.xVI.

The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to RICHARD RISBY, Esq;

_Dover_.

Darcey bears the joyful surprise beyond imagination:--it has brought him from death to life.--

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