You have none, my dear child, said Mrs. Powis.  You have none, Fanny, said Mr. Powis, but what his Lordship can remove.

Indeed, Sir!—­indeed, Madam! replied she, I meant not to give Lord Darcey pain.—­Then turning to him in a tender, soothing accent,—­Your peace, my Lord, has never been lightly regarded by me.—­Here he brighten’d up,—­and said, taking her hand, You know not, Miss Powis, from the first moment I saw you, how ardent,—­how steady has been my love.

Why then my Lord, resum’d she—­why endeavour to gain my affections, yet hide your preference for me from the world;—­even from myself?—­Think of the day Lord Allen dined at the Abbey;—­think what pass’d in a walk preceding that you set out for town:—­on both these,—­on many others, how mysterious your conduct?—­If you thought me worthy your regard, my Lord, why such mysteries?

For God’s sake, my dear,—­dear Miss Powis, said Darcey, suffer me to vindicate myself.—­Pardon me, my Lord (continued the angel that harangued him) hear me patiently another moment, and I will listen to your vindication.

She went on.

From whence can I suppose, my Lord, your embarrassments proceeded, if not from some entanglement grown irksome?—­No; before I can promise myself happiness, I must be first satisfied I do not borrow that happiness from another.

Another, Madam! repeated he, throwing himself at her feet:—­May all my brighter prospects fly me;—­may my youth be blighted by the loss of reason if I have ever lov’d another!

She was affected with the solemnity of his air:  one pearly drop stray’d down her cheek;—­one that escap’d the liquid body of tenderness assembled in her eyes:—­she could not speak, but held out her snowy hand for him to be seated.

He obey’d; and placing himself next her, so clearly accounted for that part of his conduct she call’d mysterious, that Mr. and Mrs. Powis both at once exclaim’d, Now, my dear, complete our felicity;—­now all your scruples must be over.

And do you, said she, my tender, my indulgent parents, rising and throwing herself into their arms;—­do you say it is in my power to complete your felicity?—­Will confessing a preference for Lord Darcey;—­will declaring I wish you to prefer him to your daughter;—­will that complete it?

My friend caught the blushing beauty from the arms of her parents, and, frantic with joy, folded her to his bosom, standing as if he wonder’d at his own happiness.

What innocence in the look of Miss Powis, when she greatly acknowledg’d her heart!—­How reverse from this innocence, this greatness, is the prudish hypocrite, who forbids even her features to say she is susceptible of love!  You may suppose a profusion of friendly acknowledgments fell to my share; but I am not vain enough to repeat them.