Coming down in the morning, I found breakfast on the table, linen white as snow, a large fire,—­every thing that speaks cleanliness, content, and plenty.—­The first thing in a house which attracts my notice is the fire;—­I conclude from that, if the hearts of the inhabitants are warm or cold.—­Our conversation was interesting;—­it might have lasted, for aught I know, till dinner, had it not been interrupted by the entrance of Sir James and Lady Powis.—­I knew Mr. Jenkings was their steward, but never expected they came to his house with such easy freedom.—­We arose as they entered:—­I was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings appear confused;—­in my opinion, their visitors accosted them more like equals than dependants.

Your Ladyship cannot imagine how greatly I was prepossessed in their favour even before they spoke.—­In their manner was something that struck me excessively;—­few—­very few—­can express the nameless beauties of grace,—­never to be seen but in a carriage sweetly humble.

Lady Powis seated herself opposite to me.—­We called, said she, addressing Mr. Jenkings, to inquire what was become of you, fearing your Oxfordshire friends had stolen you from us;—­but you have made up for your long absence, if this is the young lady, bowing to me, your wife told us was to return with you.—­A politeness so unexpected,—­so deliver’d,—­visibly affected me:—­I sat silent, listening for the reply Mr. Jenkings would make.

Pardon me, my Lady! pardon me, Miss Warley! said the good man,—­I am a stranger to punctilio;—­I see my error:—­I should have acquainted your Ladyship before with the name of this dear young Lady; I should have said she is an honour to her friends.—­Need I tell Miss Warley, Sir James and Lady Powis are present:—­I hope the deportment of their servant has confirmed it;—­I hope it has.

Sir James kindly took his hand, and, turning to me, said, Don’t believe him, Madam, he is not our servant;—­he has been our friend forty years; we flatter ourselves he deems not that servitude.

Not your servant!—­not your dependant!—­not your servant, Sir James!—­and was running on when her Ladyship interrupted him.

Don’t make me angry, Jenkings;—­don’t pain me;—­hear the favour I have to ask, and be my advocate:—­it is with Miss Warley I want you to be my advocate.—­Then addressing herself to me, Will you, Madam, give me the pleasure of your company often at the Abbey?—­I mean, will you come there as if it was your home?—­Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings have comforts, I have not,—­at least that I can enjoy.—­Here she sigh’d deeply;—­so deep, that I declare it pierced through my heart;—­I felt as if turn’d into stone;—­what I suppose I was a true emblem of.—­The silent friends that trickled down my cheeks brought me back from that inanimate state,—­and I found myself in the embraces of Lady Powis, tenderly affectionate, as when in the