A frequent guest at her suppers, Walpole’s kindness, real or pretended, soon made inroads on a heart still susceptible.  The ever-green passions of this venerable sinner threw out fresh shoots; and she became enamoured of the attentive and admired Englishman.  Horace was susceptible of ridicule:  there his somewhat icy heart was easily touched.  Partly in vanity, partly in playfulness, he encouraged the sentimental-exaggeration of his correspondent; but, becoming afraid of the world’s laughter, ended by reproving her warmth, and by chilling, under the refrigerating influence of his cautions, all the romance of the octogenarian.

In later days, however, after his solicitude—­partly soothed by the return of his letters to Madame du Deffand, partly by her death—­had completely subsided, a happier friendship was permitted to solace his now increasing infirmities, as well as to enhance his social pleasures.

It was during the year 1788, when he was living in retirement at Strawberry, that his auspicious friendship was formed.  The only grain of ambition he had left he declared was to believe himself forgotten; that was ‘the thread that had run through his life;’ ‘so true,’ he adds, ’except the folly of being an author, has been what I said last year to the Prince’ (afterwards George IV.), ’when he asked me “If I was a Freemason,” I replied, “No sir; I never was anything."’

Lady Charleville told him that some of her friends had been to see Strawberry.  ‘Lord!’ cried one lady, ‘who is that Mr. Walpole?’ ‘Lord!’ cried a second; ‘don’t you know the great epicure, Mr. Walpole?’ ‘Who?’ cried the first,—­’great epicure! you mean the antiquarian.’  ‘Surely,’ adds Horace, ’this anecdote may take its place in the chapter of local fame.’

But he reverts to his new acquisition—­the acquaintance of the Miss Berrys, who had accidentally taken a house next to his at Strawberry Hill.  Their story, he adds, was a curious one:  their descent Scotch; their grandfather had an estate of L5,000 a year, but disinherited his son on account of his marrying a woman with no fortune.  She died, and the grandfather, wishing for an heir-male, pressed the widower to marry again:  he refused; and said he would devote himself to the education of his two daughters.  The second son generously gave up L8oo a year to his brother, and the two motherless girls were taken to the Continent, whence they returned the ’best informed and most perfect creatures that Horace Walpole ever saw at their age.’

Sensible, natural, frank, their conversation proved most agreeable to a man who was sated of grand society, and sick of vanity until he had indulged in vexation of spirit.  He discovered by chance only—­for there was no pedantry in these truly well-educated women—­that the eldest understood Latin, and ’was a perfect Frenchwoman in her language.  Then the youngest drew well; and copied one of Lady Di Beauclerk’s pictures, ‘The Gipsies,’ though she had never attempted colours before.