“When I had done, she came up to me quite kind.  She took my hand, and kissed it before the rest.  ‘My dear,’ she said, ’I have long seen it was only duty and a foolish promise made by a young man to an old woman, that has held you to your engagement.  To keep it would make you miserable, and I absolve you from it, thanking you with all my heart for your fidelity, and blessing my dear cousin always.’  And she came up to me and kissed me before them all, and went out of the room quite stately, and without a single tear.  Oh, George, isn’t she a noble creature?”

“Here’s her health,” cries George, filling a glass.

“Hip, hip, huzzay!” says Harry.  He was wild with delight at being free.

Madame Bernstein was scarcely less pleased than her Virginian nephews at the result of Harry’s final interview with Lady Maria.

IV.—­From the Warrington MSS.

My brother Harry Warrington went to Canada to serve tinder General Wolfe, and remained with the army after the death of his glorious commander.  And I, George Warrington, stayed in London, read law in the Temple, and wrote plays which were performed at Covent Garden, and was in love with Miss Theodosia Lambert.  Madame Esmond Warrington, however, refused her consent to the match, and Major General Lambert declared an engagement impossible under the circumstances.

Then in 1760, when George II. was dead, and George III. was king, General Lambert was appointed to be governor and commander-in-chief of the Island of Jamaica.  His speedy departure was announced, he would have a frigate given him, and take his family with him. Merciful powers! and were we to be parted?

At last, one day, almost the last of his stay, when the General’s preparations for departure were all made, the good man (His Excellency we call him now) canoe home to his dinner and sighed out to his wife: 

“I wish, Molly, George was here.  I may go away and never see him again, and take his foolish little sweetheart along with me.  I suppose you will write to each other, children?  I can’t prevent that, you know.”

“George is in the drawing-room,” says mamma, quietly.

“Is he? my dearest boy!” cries the general.  “Come to me—­come in!” And when I entered he held me to his heart and kissed me.

“Always loved you as a son—­haven’t I, Molly?” he mutters hurriedly.  “Broke my heart nearly when I quarrelled with you about this little—­What, all down on your knees!  In heaven’s name, tell me what has happened!”

What had happened was, that George Esmond Warrington and Theodosia Lambert had been married in Southwark Church that morning.

I pass over the scenes of forgiveness, of reconciliation, of final separation when the ship sailed away before us, leaving me and Theo on the shore.  And there is no need to recall her expressions of maternal indignation when my mother was informed of the step I had taken.  On the pacification of Canada, my dear Harry dutifully paid a visit to Virginia, and wrote describing his reception at home.