I have set them all into a consternation, as they expressed themselves, by my declaration of leaving London on my return home early on Friday morning next.  I knew, that were I to pass the whole summer here, I must be peremptory at last.  The two sisters vow, that I shall not go so soon.  They say, that I have seen so few of the town diversions—­Town diversions, Lucy!—­I have had diversion enough, of one sort!—­But in your arms, my dear friends, I shall have consolation—­And I want it.

I have great regrets, and shall have hourly more, as the day approaches, on the leaving of such dear and obliging friends:  but I am determined.

My cousin’s coach will convey me to Dunstable; and there, I know, I shall meet with my indulgent uncle, or your brother.  I would not have it publicly known, because of the officious gentlemen in the neighbourhood.

Dr. Bartlett intended to set out for Grandison-hall to-morrow:  but from the natural kindness of his heart he has suspended his journey to Thursday next.  No consideration, therefore, shall detain me, if I am well.

My cousins are grieved:  they did not expect that I would be a word and a blow, as they phrase it.

Lady Olivia expressed herself concerned, that she, in particular, was to lose me.  She had proposed great pleasure, she said, in the parties she should make in my company.  But, after what Emily told me, she appears to me as a Medusa; and were I to be thought by her a formidable rival, I might have as much reason to be afraid of the potion, as the man she loves of the poniard.  Emily has kept the secret from every body but me.  And I rely on the inviolable secrecy of all you, my friends.

Lord and Lady L——­ had designed to go to Colnebrook to-morrow, or at my day, having hopes of getting me with them:  but now, they say, they will stay in town till they can see whether I am to be prevailed upon, or will be obdurate.

Lady Olivia inquired after the distance of Northamptonshire.  She will make the tour of England, she says, and visit me there.  I was obliged to say I should take her visit as an honour.

Wicked politeness!  Of how many falsehoods dost thou make the people, who are called polite, guilty!

But there is one man in the world, who is remarkable for his truth, yet is unquestionably polite.  He censures not others for complying with fashions established by custom; but he gives not in to them.  He never perverts the meaning of words.  He never, for instance, suffers his servants to deny him, when he is at home.  If he is busy, he just finds time to say he is, to unexpected visiters; and if they will stay, he turns them over to his sisters, to Dr. Bartlett, to Emily, till he can attend them.  But then he has always done so.  Every one knows that he lives to his own heart, and they expect it of him; and when they can have his company, they have double joy in the ease and cheerfulness that attend his leisure:  they then have him wholly.  And he can be the more polite, as the company then is all his business.