and from whom I concealed nothing; next, to keep out of Mr. H.’s way; and lastly that I might have an opportunity, from Mrs. Jervis’s opinion, to judge of the sincerity of her repentance:  “For, Polly,” said I, “you must imagine, so regular and uniform as all our family is, and so good as I thought all the people about me were, that I could not suspect, that she, the duties of whose place made her nearest to my person, was the farthest from what I wished.”

I have set this matter so strongly before her, and Mrs. Jervis has so well seconded me, that I hope the best; for the grief the poor creature carries in her looks, and expresses in her words, cannot be described; frequently accusing herself, with tears, saying often to Mrs. Jervis, she is not worthy to stand in the presence of her mistress, whose example she has made so bad an use of, and whose lessons she had so ill followed.

I am sadly troubled at this matter, however; but I take great comfort in reflecting that my sudden indisposition looked like a providential thing, which may save one poor soul, and be a seasonable warning to her, as long as she lives.

Meantime I must observe, that at supper last night, Mr. H. looked abject and mean, and like a poor thief, as I thought, and conscious of his disappointed folly (though I seldom glanced my eye upon him), had less to say for himself than ever.

And once my Lady Davers, laughing, said, “I think in my heart, my nephew looks more foolish every time I see him, than the last.”  He stole a look at me, and blushed; and my lord said, “Jackey has some grace!  He blushes!  Hold up thy head, nephew!  Hast thou nothing at all to say for thyself?”

Sir Jacob said, “A blush becomes a young gentleman!  I never saw one before though, in Mr. H.—­What’s the matter, Sir?”—­“Only,” said Lady Davers, “his skin or his conscience is mended, that’s all.”

“Thank you, Madam,” was all he said, bowing to his aunt, and affecting a careless yet confused air, as if he whispered a whistle.  “O, wretch!” thought I, “see what it is to have a condemning conscience; while every innocent person looks round easy, smiling, and erect!”—­But yet it was not the shame of a bad action, I doubt, but being discovered and disappointed, that gave him his confusion of face.

What a sad thing for a person to be guilty of such actions, as shall put it in the power of another, even by a look, to mortify him!  And if poor souls can be thus abjectly struck at such a discovery by a fellow-creature, how must they appear before an unerring and omniscient Judge, with a conscience standing in the place of a thousand witnesses? and calling in vain upon the mountains to fall upon them, and the hills to cover them!—­How serious this subject makes one!

SATURDAY EVENING.

I am just retired from a fatiguing service; for who should come to dine with Mr. B. but that sad rake Sir Charles Hargrave; and Mr. Walgrave, Mr. Sedley, and Mr. Floyd, three as bad as himself; inseparable companions, whose whole delight is drinking, hunting, and lewdness; but otherwise gentlemen of wit and large estates.  Three of them broke in upon us at the Hall, on the happiest day of my life, to our great regret; and they had been long threatening to make this visit, in order to see me, as they told Mr. B.