“Well, but, nephew, I hope you forgive me too; for now I think of it, I never knew you take any matter so patiently in my life.”—­“I knew,” said Mr. B., “that every extravagance you insisted upon, was heightening my charmer’s triumph, and increasing your own contrition; and, as I was not indeed deprived of her company, I could bear with every thing you said or did—­Yet, don’t you remember my caution, that the less you said against her, the less you’d have to unsay, and the less to repent of!”

“I do; and let me ride out, and call myself to account for all I have said against her, in her own hearing; and when I can think of but one half, and how she has taken it, by my soul, I believe ’twill make me more than half mad.”

At dinner (when we had Mr. Williams’s company), the baronet told me, he admired me now, as much as when he thought me Lady Jenny; but complained of the trick put upon him by us all, and seemed now and then a little serious upon it.

He took great notice of the dexterity which he imputed to me, in performing the honours of the table.  And every now and then, he lifted up his eyes—­“Very clever.—­Why, Madam, you seem to me to be born to these things!—­I will be helped by nobody but you—­And you’ll have a task of it, I can tell you; for I have a whipping stomach, and were there fifty dishes, I always taste of every one.”  And, indeed, John was in a manner wholly employed in going to and fro between the baronet and me, for half an hour together.—­He went from us afterwards to Mrs. Jervis, and made her answer many questions about me, and how all these matters had come about, as he phrased it; and returning, when we drank coffee, said, “I have been confabbing with Mrs. Jervis, about you, niece.  I never heard the like!  She says you can play on the harpsichord, and sing too; will you let a body have a tune or so?  My Mab can play pretty well, and so can Dolly; I’m a judge of music, and would fain hear you.”  I said, if he was a judge, I should be afraid to play before him; but I would not be asked twice, after our coffee.  Accordingly he repeated his request.  I gave him a tune, and, at his desire, sung to it:  “Od’s my life,” said he, “you do it purely!—­But I see where it is.  My girls have got my fingers!” Then he held both hands out, and a fine pair of paws shewed he.  “Plague on’t, they touch two keys at once; but those slender and nimble fingers, how they sweep along!  My eye can’t follow ’em—­Whew,” whistled he, “they are here and there, and every where at once!—­Why, nephew, I believe you have put another trick upon me.  My niece is certainly of quality!  And report has not done her justice.—­One more tune, one more song—­By my faith, your voice goes sweetly to your fingers.  ’Slife—­I’ll thrash my jades,” that was his polite phrase, “when I get home.—­Lady Davers, you know not the money they have cost me to qualify them; and here’s a mere baby to them outdoes ’em by a bar’s length, without any expense at all bestowed upon her.  Go over that again—­Confound me for a puppy!  I lost it by my prating.—­Ay, there you have it!  Oh! that I could but dance as well as thou sing’st!  I’d give you a saraband, old as I am.”