The next morning,—­ay, the next morning, then it was I lost my freedom.—­Disrob’d of his gingerbread coat, I absolutely sell a sacrifice to a plain suit of broad cloth,—­or rather, to a noble, plain heart.—­Now pray, dear Madam, do not cross me in my first love;—­at least, see Mr. Morgan, before you command me to give him up:—­and you, sweet Sir, steal to a corner of your new possession, whilst I take notice of those who are capering to my fingers ends.

You have seen Miss Powis, Madam, on Mr. Morgan’s knee;—­you have heard him say enough to fill any other girl than myself with jealousy:—­nay, Madam, you may smile;—­he really makes love to me.—­But for a moment let me forget my lover;—­let me forget his melting sighs,—­his tender protections,—­his persuasive eloquence,—­his air so languishing:—­let me forget them all, I say, and lead you to the library, where by a message flew Miss Powis.—­A look from her drew me after:—­I suppose Lord Darcey had a touch from the same magnet.

A venerable pair with joy next to phrenzy caught her in their extended arms, as the door open’d.  My kind, my dear, ever dear friends, said the lovely creature,—­and is it thus we meet? is it thus I return to you?—­Mr. Jenkings clasp’d her to him; but his utterance was quite choak’d:—­the old Lady burst into a flood of tears, and then cried out,—­How great is thy mercy, O God!—­Suffer me to be grateful.—­Again she flew to their arms;—­again they folded her to their bosoms.—­Lord Darcey too embrac’d them;—­he condescendingly kiss’d their hands;—­he said, next to the parents of his Fanny,—­next to Lady Mary, they were most dear to him.—­Miss Powis seated herself between them, and hung about the neck of Mrs. Jenkings;—­whilst his Lordship, full of admiration, look’d as if his great soul labour’d for expression.—­

Overcome with tender scenes, I left the library.—­I acquainted Lady Mary who was there, and she went to them immediately.—­Mr. Watson and Mr. Morgan for a quarter of an hour were all my own;—­captain Risby, Mr. Molesworth, Lady Elizabeth and Sophia, being engag’d in a conversation at another part of the room:—­you may guess our subject, Madam;—­but I declare, whilst listening to Mr. Watson, I thought myself soaring above earthly enjoyments.—­

Sir James, who had follow’d Lady Mary, soon return’d with her Ladyship, Miss Powis, Lord Darcey, and, what gave me heart-felt pleasure, the steward and his wife;—­an honour they with difficulty accepted, as they were strangers to Lord Hampstead’s family.—­

Who says there is not in this life perfect happiness?—­I say they are mistaken:—­such felicity as I here see and partake of, cannot be call’d imperfect—­How comes it that the domestics of this family so much surpass those of other people?—­how is it one interest governs the whole?—­I want to know a thousand mysteries.—­I could write,—­I could think eternally,—­of the first happy evening.—­First happy evening do I say?  And can the days that crown that eve be forgot?—­Heaven forbid! at least whilst I have recollection.—­My heart speaks so fast to my pen, that fain my fingers would,—­but cannot keep up with it.