The thoughts, the pleasing thoughts of freedom have kept me from sleep; I could not think of repose amidst my charming reflections.  Happy, happy change!

It is past two o’clock!—­At all times and all seasons,

I am, my dear Lady,

Yours invariably,

F. WARLEY.

LETTER XVII.

Miss WARLEY to the same.

From Mr. Jenkings’s.

Sent for before breakfast!—­Nobody in the coach!—­Well, I am glad of that, however.—­Something very extraordinary must have happen’d.—­I hope Lady Powis is not ill.—­No other message but to desire I would come immediately.—­I go, my dear Lady; soon as I return will acquaint you what has occasion’d me this early summons.

Eight o’clock at Night.

No ill news! quite the reverse:—­I am escaped from the house of festivity to make your Ladyship a partaker.

My spirits are in a flutter.—­I know not where to begin.—­I have run every step of the way, till I am quite out of breath.—­Mr. Powis is coming home,—­absolutely coming home to settle;—­married too, but I cannot tell all at once.—­Letters with an account of it have been this morning receiv’d.  He does not say who his wife is, only one of the best women in the world.

She will be received with affection;—­I know she will.—­Lady Powis declares, they shall be folded together in her arms.

It was too much for Sir James, he quite roared again when he held out to me the letter,—­I don’t believe he has eat a morsel this day.—­I never before saw a man so affected with joy.—­Thank God!  I left him pure and calm.

The servants were like mad creatures, particularly those who lived in the family before Mr. Powis left England.—­He seems, in short, to be considered as one risen from the dead.—­

I was in such haste on receiving Lady Powis’s message, that I ran down to the coach, my hat and cloak in my hand.—­Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings were talking to the coachman.—­I soon perceived by them something pleasing had happen’d.—­They caught me in their arms, and I thought would have smother’d me in their embraces; crying out, Mr. Powis is coming home, my dear;—­Mr. Powis is coming home:—­for God’s sake, Madam, make haste up to the Hall.

In getting into the coach, I stepp’d on my apron, and fell against the opposite door.—­My right arm was greatly bruis’d, which I did not perceive till I drew on my glove.

The moment I alighted, I ran to the breakfast-parlour; but finding no one there, went directly to her Ladyship’s dressing-room.—­She open’d the door, when she heard me coming.  I flew to her.—­I threw my arms about her neck, and all I could say in my hurry was, Joy, Joy, Joy!

I am all joy, my love, she return’d—­I am made up of nothing else.  I quitted her to run to Sir James, who was sitting in a great chair with a letter held out.  I believe I kiss’d him twenty times before I took it;—­there could be no harm in that surely.—­Such endearments I should have shewn my father, on the like tender occasion.  He wept, as I have said, till he quite roared again.—­I laid his head on my shoulder, and it was some time before I would mention his son’s name.