Chapter 1

BARFORD ABBEY,

A NOVEL:

IN A

SERIES of LETTERS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:

Printed for T. CADELL, (Successor to Mr. MILLAR) in the Strand; and J.
PAYNE, in Pasternoster-Row.

MDCCLXVIII.

BARFORD ABBEY.

LETTER I.

Lady MARY SUTTON, at the German Spaw, to Miss WARLEY, in England.

How distressing, how heart-rending, is my dear Fanny's mournful
detail!--It lies before me; I weep over it!--I weep not for the departed
saint: no; it is for you, myself, for all who have experienced her
god-like virtues!--Was she not an honour to her sex? Did she not merit
rewards too great for this world to bestow?--Could the world repay her
innocence, her piety, her resignation? Wipe away, my best love, the mark
of sorrow from your cheek. Perhaps she may be permitted to look down: if
so, will she smile on those that grieve at her entering into the
fullness of joy?--Here a sudden death cannot be called dreadful. A life
like hers wanted not the admonitions of a sick-bed;--her bosom accounts
always clear, always ready for inspection, day by day were they held up
to the throne of mercy.--Apply those beautiful lines in the Spectator to
her; lines you have so often admir'd.--How silent thy passage; how
private thy journey; how glorious thy end! Many have I known more
famous, some more knowing, not one so innocent.--Hope is a noble support
to the drooping head of sorrow.--Though a deceiver, court her, I counsel
you;--she leads to happiness;--we shall bless her deceptions:--baffling
our enjoyments here, she teaches us to look up where every thing is
permanent, even bliss most exquisite.

Mr. Whitmore you never knew, otherwise would have wonder'd how his
amiable wife loiter'd so long behind.--Often she has wish'd to be
reunited to him, but ever avoided the subject in your presence.

Keep not from me her rich bequest:--_rich_ indeed,--her most valuable
treasure.--That I could fold you to my arms!--But hear me at a
distance;--hear me call you my beloved daughter,--and suppose what my
transports will be when I embrace an only child:--yes, you are mine,
till I deliver you up to a superior affection.

Lay aside, I conjure you, your fears of crossing the sea.--Mr. and Mrs.
Smith intend spending part of this winter at Montpelier: trust yourself
with them; I shall be there to receive you at the Hôtel de Spence.

The season for the Spaw is almost at an end. My physicians forbid my
return to England till next autumn, else I would fly to comfort,--to
console my dearest Fanny,--We shall be happy together in France:--I can
love you the same in all places.

My banker has orders to remit you three hundred pounds;--but your power
is unlimited; it is impossible to say, my dear, how much I am in your
debt.--I have wrote my housekeeper to get every thing ready for your
reception:--consider her, and all my other servants, as your own.--I
shall be much disappointed if you do not move to the Lodge
immediately.--You shall not,--must not,--continue in a house where every
thing in and about it reminds you of so great a loss.--Miss West, Miss
Gardner, Miss Conway, will, at my request, accompany you thither.--The
Menagerie,--plantations, and other places of amusement, will naturally
draw them out;--you will follow mechanically, and by that means be kept
from indulging melancholy.--Go an-airing every day, unless you intend I
shall find my horses unfit for service:--why have you let them live so
long idle?

I revere honest Jenkings--he is faithful,--he will assist you with his
advice on all occasions.--Can there be a better resource to fly to, than
a heart governed by principles of honour and humanity?

Write, my dear, to Mrs. Smith, and let me know if the time is fixed for
their coming over.--Say you will comply with the request my heart is so
much set on;--say you will be one of the party.

My health and spirits are better:--the latter I support for your
sake;--who else do I live for?--Endeavour to do the same, not only for
me, but _others_, that one day will be as dear to you as you are to

Your truly affectionate,

M. SUTTON.

LETTER II.

Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.

_Barford Abbey_.

BARFORD ABBEY! _Yes_, my dearest Lady,--I date from Barford Abbey: a
house I little thought ever to have seen, when I have listened hours to
a description of it from Mr. Jenkings.--What are houses,--what palaces,
in competition with _that_ honour, _that_ satisfaction, I received by
your Ladyship's last letter!--The honour all must acknowledge;--the
satisfaction is not on the surface,--_it centers in the heart_.--I feel
too much to express any thing.--One moment an orphan; next the adopted
child of Lady Mary Sutton.--What are titles, except ennobled by virtue!
_That_ only makes a coronet fit graceful on the head;--_that_ only is
the true ornament of greatness.

Pardon my disobedience.--Can there be a stronger command than your
request?--But, my Lady, I must have died,--my life _must_ have been the
sacrifice, had I gone to the Lodge.--The windows opposite, the windows
of that little mansion where I spent nineteen happy years with my
angelic benefactress,--could it be borne?--Your Ladyship's absence
too;--what an aggravation;--The young ladies you kindly propose for my
companions, though very amiable, could not have shut my eyes, or
deaden'd my other senses.

Now let me account for being at Barford Abbey.--Was Mr. Jenkings my
father, I think I could not love him more; yet when he press'd me to
return with him to Hampshire, I was doubtful whether to consent, till
your Ladyship's approbation of him was confirmed in so particular a
manner.--His son an only one;--the fine fortune he must possess;--these
were objections not only of _mine_, but, I believe, of my dear,
dear--Oh! my Lady, I cannot yet write her name.--Often has she check'd
Mr. Jenkings, when he has solicited to take me home with him:--her very
looks spoke she had something to fear from such a visit.--She loved
me;--the dear angel loved me with maternal affection, but her partiality
never took place of noble, generous sentiments.--Young people, she has
frequently said, are, by a strict intimacy, endeared to each other.
This, I doubt not, was her motive for keeping me at a distance.--She
well knew my poor expectations were ill suited to his large ones.--I
know what was her opinion, and will steadily adhere to it.

Edmund, to do him common justice, is a desirable youth:--such a one as I
can admire his good qualities, without another with than to imitate
them.--Monday, the tenth, I took my leave of Hillford Down, and, after a
melancholy journey, arrived Tuesday evening at Mr. Jenkings's.--Nothing
did I enjoy on the road;--in spight of my endeavours, tears stream'd
from my eyes incessantly;--even the fine prospects that courted
attention, pass'd unnotic'd.--My good conductor strove to draw me off
from gloomy subjects, but in vain, till we came within a few miles of
his house; then of a sudden I felt a serenity, which, for some time, has
been a stranger to my breast;--a serenity I cannot account for.

_Mrs. Jenkings!_--never shall I forget her humanity. She flew to the
chaise the instant it stopp'd, receiv'd me with open arms, and conducted
me to the parlour, pouring out ten thousand welcomes, intermingled with
fond embraces.--She is, I perceive, one of those worthy creatures, who
make it a point to consider their husbands friends as their own; in my
opinion, the highest mark of conjugal happiness.

Plac'd in a great chair next the fire, every one was busied in something
or other for my refreshment.--One soul,--one voice,--one manner, to be
seen in the father,--mother,--son:--they look not on each other but with
a smile of secret satisfaction. _To me_ their hearts speak the same
expressive language;--their house,--their dress,--their words, plainly
elegant.--Envy never stops at such a dwelling;--nothing there is fit for
her service:--no pomp,--no grandeur,--no ostentation.--I slept sweetly
the whole night;--sweetly!--not one disagreeable idea intruded on my
slumbers.

Coming down in the morning, I found breakfast on the table, linen white
as snow, a large fire,--every thing that speaks cleanliness, content,
and plenty.--The first thing in a house which attracts my notice is the
fire;--I conclude from that, if the hearts of the inhabitants are warm
or cold.--Our conversation was interesting;--it might have lasted, for
aught I know, till dinner, had it not been interrupted by the entrance
of Sir James and Lady Powis.--I knew Mr. Jenkings was their steward, but
never expected they came to his house with such easy freedom.--We arose
as they entered:--I was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings appear
confused;--in my opinion, their visitors accosted them more like
_equals_ than _dependants_.

Your Ladyship cannot imagine how greatly I was prepossessed in their
favour even before they spoke.--In their manner was something that
struck me excessively;--few--very few--can express the nameless beauties
of grace,--never to be seen but in a carriage sweetly humble.

Lady Powis seated herself opposite to me.--We called, said she,
addressing Mr. Jenkings, to inquire what was become of you, fearing your
Oxfordshire friends had stolen you from us;--but you have made up for
your long absence, if this is the young lady, bowing to me, your wife
told us was to return with you.--A politeness so unexpected,--so
deliver'd,--visibly affected me:--I sat silent, listening for the reply
Mr. Jenkings would make.

Pardon me, my Lady! pardon me, Miss Warley! said the good man,--I am a
stranger to punctilio;--I see my error:--I should have acquainted your
Ladyship before with the name of this dear young Lady; I should have
said she is an honour to her friends.--Need I tell Miss Warley, Sir
James and Lady Powis are present:--I hope the deportment of their
_servant_ has confirmed it;--I hope it has.

Sir James kindly took his hand, and, turning to me, said, Don't believe
him, Madam, he is not our servant;--he has been our _friend_ forty
years; we flatter ourselves he deems not _that_ servitude.

Not your _servant!_--not your _dependant!_--not your _servant_, Sir
James!--and was running on when her Ladyship interrupted him.

Don't make me angry, Jenkings;--don't pain me;--hear the favour I have
to ask, and be my advocate:--it is with Miss Warley I want you to be my
advocate.--Then addressing herself to me, Will you, Madam, give me the
pleasure of your company often at the Abbey?--I mean, will you come
there as if it was your home?--Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings have comforts, I
have not,--at least that I can enjoy.--Here she sigh'd deeply;--so deep,
that I declare it pierced through my heart;--I felt as if turn'd into
stone;--what I suppose I was a true emblem of.--The silent friends that
trickled down my cheeks brought me back from that inanimate state,--and
I found myself in the embraces of Lady Powis, tenderly affectionate, as
when in the arms of Mrs. Whitmore.--Judge not, Madam, said I, from my
present stupidity, that I am so wanting in my head or heart, to be
insensible of this undeserv'd goodness.--With Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings's
permission, I am devoted to your Ladyship's service.--_Our_ approbation!
Miss Warley, return'd the former;--_yes, that_ you have:--her Ladyship
cannot conceive how happy she has made us.--Sir James seconded his Lady
with a warmth perfectly condescending:--no excuse would be taken; I must
spend the next day at the Abbey; their coach was to attend me.

Our amiable guests did not move till summoned by the dinner-bell, which
is plainly to be heard there.--I thought I should have shed tears to see
them going.--I long'd to walk part of the way, but was afraid to propose
it, lest I should appear presumptuous.--Her Ladyship perceiv'd my
inclinations,--look'd delighted,--and requested my company; on which Mr.
Jenkings offer'd his service to escort me back.

How was I surpris'd at ascending the hill!--My feet seem'd leading me to
the first garden--the sweet abode of innocence!--Ten thousand beauties
broke on my sight;--ten thousand pleasures, before unknown, danced
through my heart.--Behold me on the summit;--behold me full of
surprise,--full of admiration!--How enchanting the park! how clear the
river that winds through it!--What taste,--what elegance, in the
plantations!--How charmingly are Nature's beauties rang'd by art!--The
trees,--the shrubs,--the flowers,--hold up their heads, as if proud of
the spot they grow on!--Then the noble old structure,--the magnificent
mansion of this ancient family, how does it fire the beholder with
veneration and delight! The very walls seem'd to speak; at least there
was something that inform'd _me_, native dignity, and virtues
hereditary, dwelt within them.

The sight of a chaise and four, standing at the entrance, hurried me
from the charming pair of this paradise, after many good days ecchoed
to me, and thanks respectful return'd them by the same messenger.

Mr. Jenkings, in our return, entertain'd me with an account of the
family for a century past. A few foibles excepted in the character of
Sir James, I find he possesses all the good qualities of his ancestors.
Nothing could be more pleasing than the encomiums bestow'd on Lady
Powis; but she is not exempt from trouble: the _good_ and the _bad_ the
_great_ and the _little_, at some time or other, feel Misfortune's
touch. Happy such a rod hangs over us! Were we to glide on smoothly, our
affections would be fixed here, and here only.

I could love Lady Powis with a warmth not to be express'd;--but--forgive
me, my dear lady--I pine to know why _your_ intimacy was
interrupted.--Of _Lady Mary's_ steadiness and integrity I am
convinc'd;--of _Lady Powis_ I have had only a transitory view.--Heaven
forbid she should be like such people as from my heart I despise, whose
regards are agueish! Appearances promise the reverse;--but what is
appearance? For the generality a mere cheat, a gaudy curtain.

Pardon me, dear Lady Powis--I am distress'd,--I am perplex'd; but I do
not think ill of you;--indeed I cannot,--unless I find--_No_, I cannot
find it neither;--something tells me _Lady Mary_, my dear honour'd Lady
Mary, will acquit you.

We were receiv'd by Mrs. Jenkings, at our return, with a chearful
countenance, and conducted to the dining-parlour, where, during our
comfortable, meal, nothing was talk'd of but Sir James and Lady
Powis:--the kind notice taken of your Fanny mentioned with transport.

Thus honour'd,--thus belov'd,--dare I repine?--Why look on past
enjoyments with such a wistful eye!--Mrs. Whitmore, my dear maternal
Mrs. Whitmore, cannot be recall'd!--Strange perversenss!--why let that
which would give me pleasure fleet away!--why pursue that which I cannot
overtake!--No gratitude to heaven!--Gratitude to you, my dearest Lady,
shall conquer this perverseness;--even now my heart overflows like a
swoln river.

Good night, good night, dear Madam; I am going to repose on the very bed
where, for many years, rested the most deserving of men!--The
housekeeper has been relating many of his virtues;--so many, that I long
to see him, _though only in a dream_.

Was it not before Mr. Powis went abroad, that your ladyship visited at
the Abbey?--Yet, if so, I think I should have heard you mention
him.--Merit like his could never pass unnotic'd in a breast so
similar--Here I drop my pen, lest I grow impertinent.--Once again, good
night,--my more than parent:--to-morrow, at an early hour, I will begin
the recital to your Ladyship of this day's transactions--I go to implore
every blessing on your head, the only return that can be offer'd by

F. WARLEY.

LETTER III.

Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON, in continuation.

_Barford Abbey_.

I think I have told your Ladyship, I was to be honour'd with the coach
to convey me to the Abbey.--About half an hour after one it arriv'd,
when a card was deliver'd me from Lady Powis, to desire my friends would
not be uneasy, if I did not return early in the evening, as she hop'd
for an agreeable party at whist, Lord Darcey being at the Abbey.

Mrs. Jenkings informed me, his Lordship was a ward of Sir James's just
of age;--his estate genteel, not large;--his education liberal,--his
person fine,--his temper remarkably good.--Sir James, said she, is for
ever preaching lessons to him, that he must marry _prudently_;--which
is, that he must never marry without an immense fortune.--Ah! Miss
Warley, this same love of money has serv'd to make poor Lady Powis very
unhappy. Sir James's greatest fault is covetousness;--but who is without
fault?--Lord Darcey was a lovely youth, continued she, when he went
abroad; I long to see if he is alter'd by travelling.--Edmund and his
Lordship were school-fellows:--how my son will be overjoy'd to hear he
is at the Abbey!--I detain you, Miss Warley, or could talk for ever of
Lord Darcey! Do go, my dear, the family will expect you.--Promise, said
I, taking her hand,--_promise_ you will not sit up late on my
account.--She answer'd nothing, but pressing me to her bosom, seem'd to
tell me her heart was full of affection.

The old coachman, as we drove up the lawn, eyed me attentively, saying
to the footman, _It will be so, John, you may depend upon it_.--John
answer'd only by a shrug.--What either meant, I shall not pretend to
divine.--As I came near the house, I met Mr. Jenkings almost out of
breath, and, pulling the string, he came to the coach-side. I was
hurrying home, my dear young Lady, said he, to--to--to--Now faith I'm
afraid you'll be angry.

Angry with you, Sir!--angry with you, Mr. Jenkings!--is it possible!

Then, to be plain, Madam, I was hurrying home, to request you would wear
no cap.--Never shall I forget how pretty you look'd, when I saw you
without one!--Of all things, I would _this day_ wish you might look your
best.

To satisfy him I had taken some little pains in honour to the family, I
let back the hood of my cloke.--He examin'd the manner in which my hair
was dress'd, and smiled his approbation;--which _smile_, though only
seen in the eyes, was more expressive than a contraction of all the
other features.--Wishing me a happy day, he bid the coachman drive on.

Coming within sight of the Abbey, my heart beat as if breaking from
confinement.--I was oblig'd to call it to a severe trial,--to ask, Why
this insurrection,--whence these tumults?--My monitor reply'd, Beware of
self-sufficiency,--beware of its mortifying consequences.--

How seasonable this warning against the worst of foes!--a foe which I
too much fear was stealing on me imperceptibly,--else why did I not
before feel those sensations?--Could I receive greater honour than has
been conferr'd on me by the noblest mind on earth!--by _Lady
Mary?_--Could I behold greater splendor than _Lady Mary_ is possess'd
of!--What affection in another can I ever hope for like _Lady
Mary's!_--Thus was I arguing with myself, when the coach-door open'd,
and a servant conducted me to the drawing-room,--where, I was receiv'd
by Sir James and Lady Powis with an air of polite tenderness;--a kind of
unreserve, that not only supports the timid mind, but dignifies every
word,--every action,--and gives to education and address their highest
polish.

Lord Darcey was sitting in the window, a book in his hand;--he came
forward as Sir James introduc'd me, who said, _Now_, my Lord, the
company of _this_ young Lady will make your Lordship's time pass more
agreeably, than it could have done in the conversation of two old
people.--My spirits were flutter'd; I really don't recollect his reply;
only that it shew'd him master of the great art, to make every one
pleas'd with themselves.

Shall I tell you, my dear Lady, what are my thoughts of _this_ Lord
Darcey?--To confess then, though his person is amazingly elegant, his
manners are still more engaging.--This I look upon to be the natural
consequence of a mind illumin'd with uncommon understanding, sweetness,
and refinement.

A short time before dinner the chaplain made his appearance,--a
venerable old man, with hair white as snow:--what renders his figure to
be completely venerated, is the loss of sight.--Her Ladyship rising from
her seat, led me towards him: Mr. Watson, said she, I am going to
introduce a lady whose _brightest charms_ will soon be visible to
you.--The best man in the world! whisper'd she, putting my hand in
his;--which hand I could not avoid putting to my lips.--_Thank_ you,
Miss Warley, said her Ladyship, _we all_ revere this gentleman.--Mr.
Watson was affected, some drops stole from their dark prisons, and he
bless'd me as if I had been his daughter:--my pleasure was
exquisite,--it seem'd as if I had receiv'd the benediction of an angel.

Our subjects turn'd more on the celestial than the terrestrial, till
dinner was serv'd up,--when I found that good _knight_ which has been so
long banish'd to the side-board, replac'd in his original station.

How different _this table_ from many others! where genteel sprightly
conversations are shut out; _where_ such as cannot feast their senses on
the genius of a _cook_, must rise unsatisfied.

A similitude of manners between your _Ladyship_ and _Lady Powis_,
particularly in doing the honours of the table, struck me so much, that
I once or twice call'd her _Lady Mary_.--Pray, Miss Warley, ask'd she,
who is this Lady Mary?

What could occasion her confusion!--what could occasion the confusion of
Sir James!--Never did I see any thing equal it, when I said it was Lady
Mary Sutton!--The significant looks that were interchang'd, spoke some
mystery;--a mystery it would be presumption in me to dive after. Her
Ladyship made no reply,--Sir James was eager to vary the subject,--and
the conversation became general.

Though autumn is far advanc'd, every thing here wears the face of
spring.--The afternoon being remarkably fine Lady Powis, Lord Darcey,
and myself, strolled out amongst the sweets.--We walk'd a considerable
time; his Lordship was all gaiety, talk'd with raptures of the
improvements; declar'd every thing he had seen abroad fell short of this
delightful spot; and _now_, my dear Lady Powis, added he, with an air of
gallantry, I can see _nothing_ wanting.

_Nothing_ wanting! return'd her Ladyship, sighing:--Ah! my Lord, _you_
are not a parent!--you feel nothing of a parent's woe!--_you_ do not
hourly regret the absence of a beloved and only son! Don't look serious,
my dear Lord, seeing him somewhat abash'd, you have hitherto tenderly
loved me.--Perhaps I had a mind to augment your affection, by bringing
to your recollection I was not happy.--His Lordship made no reply, but,
taking her hand, lifted it respectfully to his lips.

Mr. Jenkings is this moment coming up the lawn. I see him from
window;--excuse me, my dear Lady, whilst I step to ask him how he does.

I have been accounting to Mr. Jenkings for not coming home last night.
Good man! every mark of favour I receive, enlightens _his
countenance_.--The reasons I have given him, I shall now proceed to give
your Ladyship.

I said we were walking;--I have said the conversation was
interesting;--but I have not said it was interrupted by Sir James and
Mr. Watson, who join'd us just as Lord Darcey had quitted the hand of
Lady Powis.--A visit was propos'd to the Dairy-house, which is about a
mile from the Abbey.--In our way thither, I was full of curiosity, full
of inquiries about the neighbourhood, and whose seats _such_ and _such_
were, that enrich'd adjacent hills?--The neighbourhood, reply'd her
Ladyship, is in general polite and hospitable.--_Yes_, said Sir James,
and more smart young men, _Miss Warley_, than are to be met with in
_every_ county.--Yonder, continued he, live Mr. and Mrs. Finch,--very
rich,--very prudent, and very worthy;--they have one son, a discreet
lad, who seems to promise he will inherit their good qualities.

_That_ which you see so surrounded with woods, is Sir Thomas Slater's, a
_batchelor_ of fifty-five; and, let me tell you, fair Lady, the pursuit
of _every_ girl in the neighbourhood;--his estate a clear nine thousand
a-year, and--Hold, hold, interrupted Lord Darcey, in compassion to _us_
young fellows, say no more of this _redoubtable_ batchelor.

Well then, continued Sir James, since my Lord _will_ have it so,--let me
draw your eye, Miss Warley, from Sir Thomas Slater's, and fix it on Lord
Allen's: Observe the situation!--Nothing can be more beautiful, the
mind of its owner excepted.

_That_ house on the left is Mr. Winter's.--Chance!--_Strange
chance!_--has just put him in possession of an immense fortune, with
which he is going to purchase a _coronet_ for his daughter.--The fellow
does not know what to do with his _money_, and has at last found an
_ape_ of quality, that will take _it_ off his hands.

In this manner was Sir James characterising his neighbours, when a
sudden and violent storm descended.--Half a mile from the _Dairy-house_,
the rain fell in such torrents, that we were wet through, before a
friendly oak offer'd us its shelter.--Never shall I forget my own or
Lord Darcey's figure: he stripp'd himself of his coat, and would have
thrown it over Lady Powis. Her Ladyship absolutely refusing it, her
cloak being thick, mine the reverse, he forc'd it upon me. Sir James a
assisting to put my arms into the sleeves.--Nor was I yet enough of the
amazon:--they even compell'd me to exchange my hat for his, lapping it,
about my ears.--What a strange _metamorphose!_--I cannot think of it
without laughing!--To complete the scene, no exchange could be made,
till we reach'd the Abbey.--In this droll situation, we waited for the
coach; and getting, in, streaming from head to toe, it more resembled a
bathing machine, than any other vehicle.

A gentleman, who, after a chace of ten hours, had taken shelter under
the roof of Sir James, was, at our return, stamping up and down, the
vestibule, disappointed both in his sport and dinner, shew'd an aspect
cloudy as the heavens.--My mortification was scarce supportable, when I
heard him roar out, in a voice like thunder, _What the devil have we
here?_--I sprang to the top of the stairs in a moment,--there stopp'd to
fetch breath; and again the same person, who had so genteelly accosted
me, said to Lord Darcey,--_Great_ improvements, upon my soul!--_You_ are
return'd a mighty pretty _Miss_.--What, is _this_ the newest dress at
Turin?--I heard no more; her Ladyship's woman came and shew'd me to an
apartment,--bringing from her Lady's wardrobe a chints négligée, and a
suit of flower'd muslin; in which I was soon equipp'd.

Lady Powis sent to desire I would come to her dressing room; and,
embracing me as I entered, said, with, an air of charming freedom, If
you are not hurt, my dear, by our little excursion, I shall be quite in
spirits this evening.

I am only hurt by your Ladyship's goodness. Indeed, return'd she, I have
not a close heart, but no one ever found so quick a passage to it as
yourself.--Oh! Lady Mary, _this_ is surely a _heart_ like yours!--A
_heart_ like Mrs. Whitmore's!--Was you not surpris'd, _my dear_,
continued her Ladyship, to be so accosted by the gentleman below?--Take
no notice of what is said by Mr. Morgan.--that is his name;--he means
well, and never goes into any person's house, but where his oddities are
indulg'd.--I am particularly civil to him; he was an old school-fellow
of Sir James's, one whose purse was always open to him.--Sir James, Miss
Warley, was rather addicted to extravagance in the beginning of his
life;--_that_, in some respects, is revers'd latterly.--I have been a
sufferer,--yet is he a tender generous husband. One day you shall know
more.--I _had_ a son, Miss Warley--Here Sir James interrupted her.--I
come to tell you, said he, that Lord Darcey and myself are impatient for
our tea.

O fie! Sir James, return'd Lady Powis, talk of impatience before an
unmarried Lady!--If you go on at this rate, you will frighten her from
any connection with your sex.--Not at all,--not at all, said Sir James;
you take us for better for worse.--See there, Miss Warley smiles.--I
warrant she does not think my _impatience_ unseasonable.--I was going to
reply, but effectually stopped by her Ladyship, who said, taking my
hand, Come, my dear, let us go down.--I am fond of finding excuses for
Sir James; we will suppose it was not he who was impatient:--we will
suppose the _impatience_ to be Lord Darcey's.