Chapter 2

Whilst regaling ourselves at the tea table, Mr. Morgan was in the
dining-parlour, brightening up his features by the assitance of the cook
and butler.--We were congratulating each other on the difference of our
present and late situation, declaring there was nothing to regret, when
Mr. Morgan enter'd.--Regret! cry'd he,--what do you regret?--Not, I
hope, that I have made a good dinner on a cold sirloin and pickled
oysters?--Indeed I do, said Lady Powis:--Had I thought you so poor a
caterer, I should have taken the office on myself.--Faith then, reply'd
he, you might have eat it yourself:--Forty years, my good Lady, I have
made this house my home, and did I ever suffer you to direct _what_, or
_when_, I should eat?--

Sir James laugh'd aloud; so did her Ladyship:--I was inclin'd to do the
same,--but afraid what next he would say;--However, this caution did not
screen me from particular notice.

What the duce have I here! said he, taking one of my hands,--a snow-ball
by the colour, and feeling? and down he dropp'd it by the side of Lord
Darcey's, which rested on the table.

I was never more confounded.

You are not angry, my pretty Lady, continued he:--we shall know one
another better;--but if you displease me,--I shall thunder.--I keep all
in subjection, except the _muleish kind_, making a low bow to Sir James.
Saying this, he went in pursuit of Mr. Watson.--They soon re-enter'd
together; a card-table was produc'd; and we sat down at it, whilst they
solac'd themselves by a good fire.

My attention was frequently taken from the cards, to observe how it was
possible such opposites as Mr. Watson and Mr. Morgan cou'd be
entertain'd by one another's conversation.--Never saw I any two
seemingly more happy!--The chearfulness of the former augmented;--the
voice of the latter at least three notes lower.--This has been since
explain'd to me by Lady Powis.--Mr. Morgan, she says, notwithstanding
his rough appearance, is of a nature so compassionate, that, to people
defective in person or fortune, he is the gentlest creature breathing.

Our party broke up at nine.--I sat half an hour after supper, then
propos'd returning to Mr. Jenkings's.--Lady Powis would not hear me on
this subject--I must stay that night at the Abbey:--venturing out such
weather would hazard my health.--So said Sir James; so said Lord
Darcey.--As for Mr. Morgan, he swore, Was he the former, his horses
should not stir out for fifty pieces, unless, said he, Sir James chooses
to be a fellow-sufferer with Lord Allen, who I have led such a chace
this day, that he was forced to leave poor Snip on the forest.--Saying
which, he threw himself back in the chair, and fell into a sound
sleep.--About eleven I retir'd to my chamber;--a message first being
sent to Mr. Jenkings.--Instead of going immediately to bed, I sat down
and indulg'd myself with the satisfaction of writing to my beloved Lady
Mary.--This morning I got up early to finish my packet; and though I
have spent half an hour with Mr. Jenkings, shall close it before her
Ladyship is stirring.

Your commands, my dear Lady, are executed.--I have wrote Mrs. Smith; and
as soon as I receive her answer, shall, with a joyful heart, with
impatient fondness, prepare to throw at your Ladyship's feet,

Your much honour'd,

and affectionate,

F. WARLEY.

LETTER IV.

Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.

_Barford Abbey_.

Prepare your ten pieces, George!--Upon my honour, I was at Barford Abbey
a quarter before three, notwithstanding a detention on the road by Lord
Michell and Flecher, driving on Jehu for Bath, in his Lordship's phaeton
and fix.--You have seen them before this,--and, I suppose, know their
errand.--The girl is an egregious fool, that is certain.--I warrant
there are a hundred bets depending.--I ask'd what he intended doing with
her if he succeeded?--_Do_ with her! said his Lordship; why, she is not
more than eighteen; let her go to school: faith, Flecher, that's my
advice.--_Let her go_ to the devil after I am once sure of her,
return'd the lover; and, whipping up the horses; drove away like
lightning.

Be serious--Answer me one serious question,--Is it not possible,--_very_
possible, to have a regard, a _friendship_, for an amiable girl, without
endangering her peace or my own?--If I am further involv'd than
_friendship_,--the blame is not mine; it will lie at the door of Sir
James and Lady Powis.--Talk no more of Lady Elizabeth's smile, or Miss
Grevel's hair--Stuff!--meer stuff! nor keep me up after a late evening,
to hear your nonsense of Miss Compton's fine neck and shoulders, or
Fanny Middleton's eyes.--Come here next week, I will insure you a sight
of all those graces in one form. Come, I say, you will be welcome to Sir
James and his Lady as myself.--Miss Warley will smile on you.--What
other inducement can you want?--Don't be too vain of Miss Warley's
smiles; _for know_, she cannot look without them.

Who is Miss Warley?--What is Miss Warley?--you ask.--To your first
question I can only answer, A visitor at Jenkings's.--To the
second,--She is what has been so much sought after in every age, perfect
harmony of mind and person.--Such a hand, George--

Already have I been here eight days:--was I to measure time, I should
call them hours.--My affairs with Sir James will take up longer in
settling than I apprehended.--Come therefore this week or the next, I
charge you.--Come as you hope to see Miss Warley. What do you think Sir
James said to me the other day?--Was Miss Warley a girl of fortune, I
should think her born for you, Darcey.--As that is not the case,--take
care of your heart, my Lord.--She will never attempt to drag you into
scrapes:--your little favourite robin, that us'd to peck from your hand,
has not less guile.

No! he will never consent;--I must only think of _friendship_.

Lady Powis doats on this paragon of beauty: scarce within their
walls,--when she was mention'd with such a just profusion of praises, as
fill'd me with impatience.--Lady Powis is a heavenly woman.--You do not
laugh;--many would, for supposing any of that sex _heavenly_ after
fifty.--The coach is this moment going for Miss Warley;--it waits only
for me;--I am often her conductor.--Was _you_ first minister of
state,--I the humble suitor whose bread depended on your favour,--not
one line more, even to express my wants.

Twelve o'clock, at night.

Our fair visitor just gone;--just gone home with Edmund.--What an
officious fool, to take him in the carriage, and prevent myself from a
pleasure I envy him for.--I am not in spirits;--I can write no
more;--perhaps the next post:--but I will promise nothing.

I am, _&c. &c._

DARCEY.

LETTER V.

The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to LORD DARCEY.

_Bath_.

Confound your friendships!--_Friendship_ indeed!--What! up head and ears
in love, and not know it.--So it is necessary for every woman you think
capable of friendship, to have fine eyes, fine hair, a bewitching smile,
and a neck delicately turn'd.--Have not I the highest opinion of my
cousin Dolly's sincerity?--Do I not think her very capable of
_friendship?_--Yet, poor soul, her eyes are planted so deep, it requires
good ones to discover she has any.--Such a hand, George!--Such a hand,
Darcey!--Why, Lady Dorothy too has hands; I am often enough squeez'd by
them:--though hard as a horse's hoof, and the colour of tanned leather,
I hold her capable of _friendship_.--Neck she has none,--smile she has
none! yet need I the determination of another, to tell me whether my
regard for her proceeds from love or _friendship?_--Awake,--Awake,
Darcey,--Awake:--Have you any value for your own peace?--have you any
for that of Miss Warley's? If so, leave Barford Abbey.--Should you
persist in loving her, for love her I know you do?--Should the quiet of
such an amiable woman as you describe be at stake? To deal plainly, I
will come down and propose the thing myself.--No sword,--no pistol. I
mean not for _myself_, but one whose happiness is dear to me as my
_own_.

Suppose your estate is but two thousand a-year, are you so fond of shew
and equipage, to barter real felicity for baubles?--I am angry,--so
angry, that it would not grieve me to see you leading to the altar an
old hobbling dowager without a tooth.--Be more yourself,

And I am yours,

MOLESWORTH.

LETTER VI

Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.

_Barford Abbey_,

Angry!--You are really angry!--Well, I too am angry with myself.--I do
love Miss Warley;--but why this to you?--Your penetration has already
discover'd it.--Yet, O Molesworth! such insurmountable obstacles:--no
declaration can be made,--at least whilst I continue in this
neighbourhood.

Sir James would rave at my imprudence.--Lady Powis, whatever are her
sentiments, must give them up to his opinion.--Inevitably I lose the
affection of persons I have sacredly--promised to obey,--sacredly.--Was
not my promise given to a dying father?--Miss Warley has no tye; yet, by
the duty she observes to Sir James and Lady Powis, you would think her
bound by the strongest cords of nature.

Scarce a moment from her:--at Jenkings's every morning;--on foot if good
weather,--else in the coach for the convenience of bringing her with
me.--I am under no constraint:--Sir James and her Ladyship seem not the
least suspicious: this I much wonder at, in the former particularly.

In my _tête-à-têtes_ with Miss Warley, what think you are our
subjects?--Chiefly divinity, history, and geography.--Of these studies
she knows more than half the great men who have wrote for ages past.--On
a taste for the two latter I once prided myself.--An eager pursuit for
the former springs up in my mind, whilst conversing with her, like a
plant long hid in the earth, and called out by the appearance of a
summer's sun.--This sun must shine at Faulcon Park;--without it all will
be dreary:--_yet_ how can I draw it thither?--_Edmund_--but why should I
fear _Edmund?_

Will you, or will you not, meet your old friend Finch here next
Wednesday?--Be determined in your answer.--I have suspence enough on my
hands to be excused from any on your account.--Sir James thinks it
unkind you have not called on him since I left England;--hasten
therefore to make up matters with the baronet,--Need I say the pleasure
I shall have in shaking you by the hand?

DARCEY.

LETTER VII.

The Hon. GEORGE MOLESWORTH to Lord DARCEY.

_Bath_.

Wednesday next you shall see me,--positively you shall.--Bridgman will
be of the party.

I propose an immensity of satisfaction from this visit.--Forbid it,
heaven! Miss Warley's opposite should again give me a meeting at the
Abbey.--After the conversation I am made to expect, how should I be
mortified to have my ears eternally dinn'd with catgut work,--painting
gauze,--weaving fringes,--and finding out enigmas?--Setting a fine
face, Miss Winter is out-done by Fletcher's Nancy.--A-propos, I
yesterday saw that very wise girl step into a chaise and wheel off for
Scotland, begging and praying we would make the best of it to her
mamma.--Not the least hand had I in this affair; but, willing to help
out people in distress, at the entreaties of Lord Michell, I waited on
the old Lady at her lodging.

I found her in a furious plight,--raving at her servants,--packing up
her cloaths, and reflecting on her relations who had persuaded her to
come to Bath.--When I entered she was kneeling by a huge travelling
trunk, stuffing in a green purse at one corner, which I supposed to be
full of gold.

Where is Nancy?--riling from the ground, and accosting me with looks of
fury;--Where is Nancy, Mr. Molesworth?

Really, _Madam_, that is a question I cannot positively answer;--but, to
be sincere, I believe she is on the road to Scotland.

_Believe!_--So you would have me think you are not one of Fletcher's
clan.--But, tell him from me, running to the trunk after her purse, and
shaking it just at my ear,--_tell him_, he shall never be a penny the
better for this.

I took my hat, and looked towards the door, as if going.

Stop, Mr. Molesworth, (her voice somewhat lowered) why in so great a
hurry?--I once thought you my friend. Pray inform me if Nancy was forced
away;--or, if me went willingly.

You have no right, Madam, after the treatment I have received, to expect
an answer; but justice bids me declare her going off seemed a matter of
choice.

Poor child!--You was certainly trapann'd (and she put a handkerchief to
her eyes).

I solemnly protest, Madam, I have seen your daughter but twice since she
came to Bath.--Last night, when coming from the Rooms, I saw her step
into a chaise, followed by Mr. Fletcher.--They beckoned me towards them,
whispered the expedition they were going upon, and requested me to break
the matter to you, and intercede for their pardon.--My visit has not
answered its salutary purpose--I perceive it _has not_. So saying I
turned from her,--knowing, by old acquaintance, how I was to play my
cards, me being one of those kind of spirits which are never quell'd but
by opposition.

After fetching me from the door, she promised to hear calmly what I had
to say;--and, tho' no orator, I succeeded so well as to gain an
assurance, she would see them at their return from Scotland.

I left the old Lady in tolerable good humour, and was smiling to myself,
recollecting the bout I had passed, when, who should come towards me but
Lord Michell,--his countenance full-fraught with curiosity.

Well, George!--dear George!--what success in your embassy?--I long to
know the fate of honest Fletcher.--Is he to loll in a coach and
six?--or, is the coroner's inquest to bring in their verdict Lunacy?

A sweet alternative!--_As_ your Lordship's assiduity has shewn the
former is the highest pinnacle to which you would wish to lift a
friend, I believe your most sanguine hopes are here answered.

Is it _so!_--Well, if ever Fletcher offers up a prayer, it ought to be
for you, Molesworth.

Vastly good, my Lord.--What, before he prays for himself?--_This_ shews
your Lordship's _very_ high notions of gratitude.

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 Ladyship 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 Ladyship 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 Ladyship 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 nobleman regard
Edmund as if of equal rank with himself.

Heavens! his Lordship 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 Ladyship 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 Lordship 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 Ladyship 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!

Mr. Finch is the most sedate young man I have ever seen;--but his
sedateness is temper'd with a _sweetness_ inexpressible;--a certain
mildness in the features;--_a mildness_ which, in the countenance of
that great commander I saw at Brandon Lodge, appears like _mercy_ sent
out from the heart to discover the dwelling of _true courage_.--There is
certainly a strong likeness between the Marquis and Lord Darcey;--_so
strong_, that when I first beheld his Lordship I was quite struck with
surprize.

Mr. Molesworth and Mr. Bridgman, the two gentlemen from Bath, are very
opposite to each other in person and manner; yet both in a different
degree seem to be worthy members of society.

Mr. Molesworth, a most entertaining companion,--vastly chearful,--smart
at repartee; and, from the character Lord Darcey has given me of him,
very sincere.

Mr. Bridgman has a good deal the air of a foreigner; attained, I
suppose, by his residence some years at the court of ----, in a public
character.--Very fit he appears for such an
employ.--Sensible,--remarkably polite,--speaks all languages with the
same fluency as his own; but then a veil of disagreeable reserve throws
a dark shade over those perfections.--_Perhaps_ I am wrong to spy out
faults so early;--_perhaps_ to-morrow my opinion may be
different.--First prepossessions--Ah! What would I have said of _first
prepossessions?_--Is it not to them I owe a thousand blessings?--I, who
have nothing to recommend me but being unfortunate.

Somthing lies at my heart.--Yet I think I could not sleep in quiet, was
I to drop a hint in disfavour of Mr. Jenkings;--it may not be in his
_disfavour_ neither:--However, my dear Lady, you shall be the judge,
after I have repos'd a few hours.

Seven o'clock in the morning.

Why should I blame Mr. Jenkings?--Is not Edmund his only son?--his only
child?--Is he less my friend for suspecting?--Yes, my Lady, I perceive
he does _suspect_.--He is uneasy.--He supposes his son encouraging an
improper affection.--I see it in his very looks:--he must think me an
artful creature.--This it is that distresses me.--I wish I could hit on
a method to set his heart at rest.--If I barely hint a design of leaving
the neighbourhood, which I have done once or twice, he bursts into
tears, and I am oblig'd to sooth him like a child.

How account for this behaviour?--Why does he look on me with the eye of
fatherly affection,--yet think me capable of a meanness I _despise?_

I believe it impossible for a human being to have _more_ good nature, or
_more_ good qualities, than Edmund; yet had he the riches of a Mogul, I
could never think of a connection with him.--_He_, worthy young man, has
never given his father cause for _suspicion_.--I am convinced he has
not.--Naturally of an obliging disposition, he is ever on the watch for
opportunities to gratify his amiable inclinations:--not _one_ such
selfish motive as love to push him on.

A summons to breakfast.--Lord Darcey, it seems, is below;--I suppose,
slid away from his friends to call on Edmund.--Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings are
_all_ smiles, _all_ good humour, to their son,--I hope it is only I who
have been _suspicious_.--Lord Darcey is still with Edmund.--They are at
this moment under my window,--counselling perhaps, about a commission
he wants his father to purchase for him in the Guards.--I should be glad
to see this matter accommodated;--yet, I could wish, in _so_ tender a
point, his Lordship may not be _too_ forward in advising.--Mr. and Mrs.
Jenkings have such an opinion of him,--they pay such deference to what
he says,--his advice _must_ have weight;--and they _may_ be unhappy by
giving up their inclinations.

The praises of Lord Darcey are forever sounding in my ears.--To what a
height would the partiality of Mrs. Jenkings lift me?--She would have me
think,--I cannot tell your Ladyship what she would _have me think_.--My
hopes dare not take _such_ a flight.--No!--I can perceive what their
fall _must_ be;--I can perceive _it_, without getting on the top of the
precipice to look down.

I shall order every thing for my departure, according to your Ladyship's
directions, holding myself in readiness to attend Mr. and Mrs. Smith, at
the time proposed.

Oxfordshire I must revisit,--for a few days only;--having some little
matters to regulate.

The silks I have purchas'd for your Ladyship are slight, as you
directed, except a white and gold, which is the richest and most
beautiful I could procure.

How imperceptibly time slides on?--The clock strikes eleven,--in spight
of the desire I have of communicating many things more.--An engagement
to be with Lady Powis at twelve hastens me to conclude myself

Your Ladyship's

Most honour'd and affectionate,

F. WARLEY.

LETTER IX.

The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to LORD DARCEY.

_Bath_.

What a sacrifice do you offer up to that old dog Plutus!--I have lost
_all_ patience,--_all_ patience, I say.--_Such_ a woman!--_such_ an
angelic woman!--But what has,--what will avail my arguments?--Her peace
is gone,--if you persevere in a behaviour so _particular_,--absolutely
gone.

Bridgman this morning told me, that unless I assured him you had
_pretensions_ to Miss Warley, he was determined to offer her his
hand;--_that_ nothing prevented him from doing it whilst at the Abbey,
but your mysterious conduct, which he was at a loss how to construe.
--Not to offend _you_, the _Lady_ or _family_ she is with, he apply'd,
he said, to _me_, as a friend of each party, to set him right.

Surely, Bridgman, returned I, you wish to keep yourself in the dark; or
how the duce have you been six days with people whose countenances speak
so much sensibility, and not make the discovery you seek after?

Though her behaviour to us; continued I, was politeness itself, was
there nothing more than _politeness_ in her address to Lord Darcey?--Her
smiles _too_, in which Diana and the Graces revel, saw you not _them_,
how they played from one to another, like sun-beams on the water, until
they fixed on him?--Is the nation in debt?--So much is Darcey in
love;--and you may as well pay off one, as rival the other with
success.

Observe, my friend, in what manner I have answered for you.--Keep her,
therefore, no longer in suspence.--Delays of this sort are not only
dangerous, but cruel.--Why delight to torture what we most admire?--From
a boy you despised such actions.--Often have I known Dick Jones, when at
Westminster, threshed by your hand for picking poor little birds
alive.--_His_ was an early point;--but for _Darcey_, accoutred with the
breast-plate of honour, even before he could read the word that
signifies its intrinsic value,--_for him_ to be falling off,--falling
off at a time _too_, when Virtue herself appears in person to support
him!

Can you say, you mean not to injure her?--Is a woman only to be injured,
but by an attempt on her virtue?--Is it _no_ crime, _no_ fault, to cheat
a young innocent lovely girl out of her affections, and give her
nothing in return but regret and disappointment?

Reflect, what a task is mine, thus to lay disagreeable truths plainly
before you.--To hear it pronounced, that Lord and Lady Darcey are the
happiest couple on earth, is the hope that has pushed me on to this
unpleasing office.

Bridgman is just set out for town.--I am charg'd with a profusion of
respects, thanks, &c. &c. &c. which, if you have the least oeconomy,
will serve for him, and

Your very humble servant,

MOLESWORTH.

LETTER X.

Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.

_Barford Abbey_.

Bridgman!--Could Bridgman dare aspire to Miss Warley!--_He_ offer her
his hand!--_he_ be connected with a woman whose disposition is
diametrically opposite to his own!--_No_,--that would not have done,
though I had never seen her.--Let him seek for one who has a heart shut
up by a thousand locks.

After his _own_ conjectures,--after what _you_ have told him,--should he
_but_ attempt to take her from me, by all that is sacred, he shall
repent it dearly.

Molesworth! _you_ are my friend,--I take your admonitions well;--but,
surely, you should not press thus hardly on my soul, knowing its uneasy
situation.--My state is even more perplexing than when we parted:--I did
not then know she was going to France.--_Yes_, she is absolutely going
to _France_.--Why leave her friends here?--Why not wait the arrival of
Lady Mary Sutton in England?

I have used every dissuasive argument _but one_.--That shall be my
last.--If _that_ fails I go--I positively go with her.--It is your
opinion that she loves me.--Would it were mine!--_Not_ the least
partiality can I discover.--Why then be precipitate?--Every moment she
is gaining ground in the affections of Sir James and Lady Powis.--_Time_
may work wonders in the mind of the former.--Without his consent never
can I give my hand;--the commands of a dying father forbid me.--_Such_ a
father!--O George! you did not know him;--_so_ revered,--_so_
honour'd,--_so_ belov'd! not more in public than in private life.

_My friend_, behold your son!--_Darcey_, behold your father!--_As_ you
reverence and obey Sir James, _as_ you consult him on all occasions,
_as_ you are guided by his advice, receive my blessing.--These were his
parting words, hugg'd into me in his last cold embrace.--No, George, the
promise I made can never be forfeited.--I sealed it on his lifeless
hand, before I was borne from him.