How I dread the hour of parting!—­Poor Mr. Watson!—­I fear I shall never see him more.—­Mr. Morgan too! but he is likely to live many years.—­There is something in this strange man excessively engaging.—­If people have roughness, better to appear in the voice, in the air and dress, than in the heart:  a want of softness there, I never can dispense with.—­What is a graceful form, what are numberless accomplishments, without humanity?  I love, I revere, the honest, plain, well-meaning Mr. Morgan.

Hark!  I hear the trampling of horses.—­Mr. Jenkings is certainly return’d.—­I hasten down to be the first who shall inform him of my departure.

How am I mortified to see Aaron return without his master!—­Whilst Mrs. Jenkings was busied in enquiries after the health of her good man, I was all impatience for the contents of a letter she held in her hand, unopen’d:  having broke the seal, and run her eye hastily over it, she gave it me.—­I think my recollection will serve to send it verbatim to your Ladyship.

Mr. JENKINGS to Mrs. JENKINGS.

“My Dear,

I dispatch Aaron to acquaint you it is impossible for me to be home till Wednesday.  Mr. Stapleton is gone to London:  I am obliged to attend Lord Darcey thither.  I love his Lordship more and more.—­He has convinc’d me our conjectures were not without foundation.—­Heaven grant it may end to our wishes!—­There are, he thinks, difficulties to be overcome.  Let him think it:—­his happiness will be more exquisite when he is undeceiv’d.—­Distribute my dutiful respects to Sir James, Lady Powis, and Miss Warley; next to yourself and our dear Edmund, they are nearest the heart of your truly affectionate husband

JENKINGS.”

I will make no comments on this letter; it cannot concern me,—­What can I do about seeing Mr. Jenkings before I go?—­

Lord bless me! a chaise and four just stopp’d; Mr. Smith in it.—­Heavens! how my heart throbs!—­I did not expect him ’till to-morrow:  I must run to receive him.—­How shall I go up to the Abbey!—­how support the last embrace of Sir James and Lady Powis!

Ten at Night, just come from the Abbey.

Torn in pieces!—­my poor heart torn in pieces!—­I shall never see them more;—­never again be strain’d to their parental bosoms.—­Forgive me, my dearest Lady, I do not grieve that I am coming to you; I grieve only that I go from them.—­Oh God! why must my soul be divided?

Another struggle too with poor Mrs. Jenkings!—­She has been on her knees:—­yes, thus lowly has she condescended to turn me from my purpose, and suffer Mr. Smith to go back without me,—­I blush to think what pain, what trouble I occasion.—­She talks of some important event at hand.  She says if I go, it will, end in the destruction of us all.—­What can she mean by an important event?—­Perhaps Lord Darcey—­but no matter; nothing, my dear Lady, shall with-hold