Pardon me, dear Lady Powis—­I am distress’d,—­I am perplex’d; but I do not think ill of you;—­indeed I cannot,—­unless I find—­No, I cannot find it neither;—­something tells me Lady Mary, my dear honour’d Lady Mary, will acquit you.

We were receiv’d by Mrs. Jenkings, at our return, with a chearful countenance, and conducted to the dining-parlour, where, during our comfortable, meal, nothing was talk’d of but Sir James and Lady Powis:—­the kind notice taken of your Fanny mentioned with transport.

Thus honour’d,—­thus belov’d,—­dare I repine?—­Why look on past enjoyments with such a wistful eye!—­Mrs. Whitmore, my dear maternal Mrs. Whitmore, cannot be recall’d!—­Strange perversenss!—­why let that which would give me pleasure fleet away!—­why pursue that which I cannot overtake!—­No gratitude to heaven!—­Gratitude to you, my dearest Lady, shall conquer this perverseness;—­even now my heart overflows like a swoln river.

Good night, good night, dear Madam; I am going to repose on the very bed where, for many years, rested the most deserving of men!—­The housekeeper has been relating many of his virtues;—­so many, that I long to see him, though only in a dream.

Was it not before Mr. Powis went abroad, that your ladyship visited at the Abbey?—­Yet, if so, I think I should have heard you mention him.—­Merit like his could never pass unnotic’d in a breast so similar—­Here I drop my pen, lest I grow impertinent.—­Once again, good night,—­my more than parent:—­to-morrow, at an early hour, I will begin the recital to your Ladyship of this day’s transactions—­I go to implore every blessing on your head, the only return that can be offer’d by

F. WARLEY.

LETTER III.

Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON, in continuation.

Barford Abbey.

I think I have told your Ladyship, I was to be honour’d with the coach to convey me to the Abbey.—­About half an hour after one it arriv’d, when a card was deliver’d me from Lady Powis, to desire my friends would not be uneasy, if I did not return early in the evening, as she hop’d for an agreeable party at whist, Lord Darcey being at the Abbey.

Mrs. Jenkings informed me, his Lordship was a ward of Sir James’s just of age;—­his estate genteel, not large;—­his education liberal,—­his person fine,—­his temper remarkably good.—­Sir James, said she, is for ever preaching lessons to him, that he must marry prudently;—­which is, that he must never marry without an immense fortune.—­Ah!  Miss Warley, this same love of money has serv’d to make poor Lady Powis very unhappy.  Sir James’s greatest fault is covetousness;—­but who is without fault?—­Lord Darcey was a lovely youth, continued she, when he went abroad; I long to see if he is alter’d by travelling.—­Edmund and his Lordship were school-fellows:—­how my son will be overjoy’d to hear he is at the Abbey!—­I detain you, Miss Warley, or could talk for ever of Lord Darcey!  Do go, my dear, the family will expect you.—­Promise, said I, taking her hand,—­promise you will not sit up late on my account.—­She answer’d nothing, but pressing me to her bosom, seem’d to tell me her heart was full of affection.