You talk of a last argument—­Forbear that argument.—­You must not use it before you have laid your intentions open to Sir James.—­Neither follow her to France.—­What, as you are situated, would that avail?—­Prevent her going, if you can.—­Such a woman, under the protection of Lady Mary Sutton, must have many advantageous proposals.

I understand nothing of features,—­I know nothing of physiognomy, if you have any uneasiness from Bridgman.—­It was not marks of a violent passion he betrayed;—­rather, I think, an ambition of having his taste approved by the world;—­but we shall know more of the matter when I meet him in town.

Stupidity!—­Not see her partiality!—­not see that she loves you!—­She will some time hence own it as frankly with her lips, as her eyes have told you a thousand times, did you understand their language.—­The duce a word could I get from them.—­Very uncivil, I think, not to speak when they were spoke to,—­They will be ready enough, I suppose, with their thanks and applauses, when I present her hand to be united with her heart.  That office shall be mine:—­Something tells me, there is to be an alteration in your affairs, sudden as unexpected.

I go to the rooms this evening for the last time.—­To-morrow I set out for Slone Hall, in my way to London.—­Here I shall spend two or three days happily with my good-natured cousin Lady Dorothy.—­Perhaps we may take an airing together as far as your territories.—­I shall now look on Faulcon-Park with double pleasure.—­Neither that or the agreeable neighbourhood round it will be ever bridled over by a haughty dame.—­(Miss Warley, forbid it.)—­Some such we see in high as well as low life.—­Haughtiness is the reverse of true greatness; therefore it staggers me to behold it in the former.

A servant with a white favour!—­What can this mean?—­

Upon my word, Mr. Flecher, you return with your fair bride sooner than I expected.—­A card too.—­Things must be finely accommodated with the old Lady.—­Your Lordship being at too great a distance to partake of the feast, pray regale on what calls me to it.

“Mrs. Moor and Mr. and Mrs. Flecher’s compliments to Mr. Molesworth.—­My son and daughter are just return’d from Scotland, and hope for the pleasure of Mr. Molesworth’s company with eight or ten other friends, to congratulate them this evening on their arrival.—­Both the Ladies and Mr. Flecher will be much disappointed, if you do not accept our invitation.”

True as I live, neither added or diminished a tittle,—­and wrote by the hand of Flecher’s Desdemona.—­Does not a man richly deserve thirty thousand pounds with a wife like this?—­Not for twice that sum would I see such nonsense come from her I was to spend my life with.

Pity Nature and Fortune has such frequent bickerings!  When one smiles the other frowns.—­I wish the gipsies would make up matters, and send us down their favours wrapp’d up together.