I forbid it, my Lord! I forbid it! What right have I to controul your Lordship’s actions?  Besides, we should travel so short a way together, it would be very immaterial.

Give me Leave, Madam, in this respect to be the judge; perhaps every one is not bless’d with that happy indifference.—­What may be very immaterial to one,—­may be matter of the highest importance to another.

He pronounced the word immaterial, with some marks of displeasure.  I was greatly embarrass’d:  I thought our conversation would soon become too interesting.

I knew not what to do.—­I attempted to give it a different turn; yet it engrossed all my attention.—­At length I succeeded by introducing my comical adventure at the inn, in our way to Oxfordshire:  but the officer’s name had escaped my memory, though I since recollect it to be Risby.

This subject engaged us till we came within sight of the drawing-room windows.—­There are the visitors, as I live! said I. Your Lordship not being dress’d, will, I suppose, order the coach to the other door.—­To be plain, I was glad of any excuse that would prevent my getting out before them.—­Not I, indeed, Miss Warley, reply’d he:—­Dress is never of consequence enough to draw me two steps out of my way.—­If the spectators yonder will fix their eyes on an old coat rather than a fine young Lady, why they have it for their pains.

By this time the door was open’d, and Sir James appearing, led me, with his usual politeness, to the company.  I was placed by her Ladyship next Miss Winter, whose person I cannot say prejudiced me in her favour, being entirely dispossessed of that winning grace which attracts strangers at a first glance.

After measuring me with her eye from head to toe, she sent my dimensions in a kind of half smile across the room to Lord Baily; then vouchsafed to ask, how long I had been in this part of the world? which question was followed by fifty others, that shewed she laboured under the violent thirst of curiosity; a thirst never to be conquered; for, like dropsical people, the more they drink in, the more it rages.

My answers were such as I always return to the inquisitive.—­Yes, Madam;—­No, Madam;—­very well;—­very good;—­not certain;—­quite undetermin’d.—­Finding herself unsuccessful with me, she apply’d to Lady Powis; but alas! poor maiden, she could drain nothing from that fountain; the streams would not flow;—­they were driven back, by endeavouring to force them into a wrong channel.

These were not certainly her first defeats, by the clever way of hiding her chagrin:—­it is gone whilst she adjusts the flower in her bosom,—­or opens and shuts her fan twice.—­How can she be mortified by trifles,—­when the Lord of her heart,—­the sweet, simpering, fair-faced, Lord Baily keeps his eyes incessantly fixed on her, like centinels on guard?—­They cannot speak, indeed they cannot, or I should expect them to call out every half hour, “All is well.”