I attempted to open my mouth, but in vain; I pointed to the ground, making an effort to sit down:—­he caught me in his arms, and bore me to a bench not far off;—­there left me, to fetch some water at a brook near, but came back before he had gone ten steps.—­I held out my hand to his hat, which lay on the ground, then look’d to the water.—­Thank God!—­thank God! he said, and went full speed, to dip up some;—­he knelt down, trembling, before me;—­his teeth chatter’d in his head whilst he offer’d the water.

I found myself beginning to recover the moment it came to my lips.—­He fix’d his eyes on me, as if he never meant to take them off, holding both my hands between his, the tears running down his face, without the contraction of one feature.—­If sorrow could be express’d in stone, he then appear’d the very statue which was to represent it.

I attempted to speak.

Don’t speak yet, he cried;—­don’t make yourself ill again:  thank heaven, you are better!—­This is some sudden chill; why have you ventur’d out without clogs?

How delicate,—­how seasonable, this hint!  Without it could I have met his eye, after the weakness I had betrayed?—­We had now no more interesting subjects; I believe he thought I had enough of them.

It was near two when we reach’d the Abbey.  Sir James and Mr. Morgan were just return’d from a ride;—­Lady Powis met us on the Green, where she said she had been walking some time, in expectation of her strollers,—­She examin’d my countenance very attentively, and then ask’d Lord Darcey, if he had remember’d her injunctions?

What reason, my Lady, have you to suspect the contrary? he returned—­Well, well, said she, I shall find you out some day or other;—­but her Ladyship seem’d quite satisfied, when I assured her I had been no farther than the Beach-walk.

Cards were propos’d soon after dinner:  the same party as usual.—­Mr. Morgan is never ask’d to make one;—­he says he would as soon see the devil as a card-table.—­We kept close at it ’till supper.—­I could not help observing his Lordship blunder’d a little;—­playing a diamond for a spade,—­and a heart for a club,—­I took my leave at eleven, and he attended me home.

Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings were gone to bed,—­Edmund was reading in the parlour; he insisted on our having a negus which going out to order, was follow’d by Lord Darcey:—­I heard them whisper in the passage, but could distinguish the words, if she is ill, remember, if she is ill—­and then Edmund answer’d, You may depend on it, my Lord,—­as I have a soul to be saved:—­does your Lordship suppose I would be so negligent?

I guess’d at this charge;—­it was to write, if I should be ill, as I have since found by Edmund,—­who return’d capering into the room, rubbing his hands, and smiling with such significance as if he would have said, Every thing is as it should be.

When his Lordship had wish’d us a good night, he said to me,—­To-morrow, Miss Warley!—­but I will say nothing of to-morrow;—­I shall see you in the morning.  His eyes glisten’d, and he left the room hastily.—­Whilst Edmund attended him out, I went to my chamber that I might avoid a subject of which I saw his honest heart was full.