“I come with double pleasure,” said she, “to see the greatest curiosity in England, a husband and wife, who have not, in so many months as you have been married, if I may believe report, and your letters, Mrs. B., once repented.”

“You are severe, Miss Darnford,” replied Mr. B., “upon people in the married state:  I hope there are many such instances.”

“There might, if there were more such husbands as Mr. B. makes.—­I hated you once, and thought you very wicked; but I revere you now.”

“If you will revere any body, my dear Miss Darnford,” said he, “let it be this good girl; for it is all owing to her conduct and direction, that I make a tolerable husband:  were there more such wives, I am persuaded, there would be more such husbands than there are.”

“You see, my dear,” said I, “what it is to be wedded to a generous man.  Mr. B., by his noble treatment of me, creates a merit in me, and disclaims the natural effects of his own goodness.”

“Well, you’re a charming couple—­person and mind.  I know not any equal either of you have.—­But, Mr. B., I will not compliment you too highly.  I may make you proud, for men are saucy creatures; but I cannot make your lady so:  and in this doubt of the one, and confidence in the other, I must join with you, that her merit is the greatest.—­Since, excuse me, Sir, her example has reformed her rake; and you have only confirmed in her the virtues you found ready formed to your hand.”

“That distinction,” said Mr. B., “is worthy of Miss Darnford’s judgment.”

“My dearest Miss Darnford—­my dearest Mr. B.,” said I, laying my hand upon the hand of each, “how can you go on thus!—­As I look upon every kind thing, two such dear friends say of me, as incentives for me to endeavour to deserve it, you must not ask me too high; for then, instead of encouraging, you’ll make me despair.”

He led us into the coach; and in a free, easy, joyful manner, not in the least tired or fatigued, did we reach the town and Mr. B.’s house; with which and its furniture, and the apartments allotted for her, my dear friend is highly pleased.

But the dear lady put me into some little confusion, when she saw me first, taking notice of my improvements, as she called them, before Mr. B. I looked at him and her with a downcast eye.  He smiled, and said, “Would you, my good Miss Darnford, look so silly, after such a length of time, with a husband you need not be ashamed of?”

“No, indeed, Sir, not I, I’ll assure you; nor will I forgive those maiden airs in a wife so happy as you are.”

I said nothing.  But I wished myself, in mind and behaviour, to be just what Miss Darnford is.

But, my dear lady, Miss Darnford has had those early advantages from conversation, which I had not; and so must never expect to know how to deport myself with that modest freedom and ease, which I know I want, and shall always want, although some of my partial favourers think I do not.  For I am every day more and more sensible of the great difference there is between being used to the politest conversation as an inferior, and being born to bear a part in it:  in the one, all is set, stiff, awkward, and the person just such an ape of imitation as poor I; in the other, all is natural ease and sweetness—­like Miss Darnford.