“How much pleasure you must have had in writing it; had not you?”

“Y—­e—­s, ma’am.”

“So has my sister; she’s never without a pen in her band; she can’t help writing for her life.  When Lord Hawke is travelling about with her, she keeps writing all the way.”

“Yes,” said Lady Hawke; “I really can’t help writing.  One has great pleasure in writing the things; has one not, Miss Burney?

226

“Y—­e—­s, ma’am.”

“But your novel,” cried Lady Say and Sele, “is in such a style!- -so elegant!  I am vastly glad you made it end happily.  I hate a novel that don’t end happy.”

“Yes,” said Lady Hawke, with a languid smile, “I was vastly glad when she married Lord Orville.  I was sadly afraid it would not have been.”

“My sister intends,” said Lady Say and Sele, “to print her ‘Mausoleum,’ just for her own friends and acquaintances.”

“Yes,” said Lady Hawke; “I have never printed yet.”

“I saw Lady Hawke’s name,” quoth I to my first friend, “ascribed to the play of ‘Variety.’"(147)

“Did you indeed?” cried Lady Say, in an ecstasy.  “Sister! do you know Miss Burney saw your name in the newspapers, about the play!”

“Did she?” said Lady Hawke, smiling complacently.  “But I really did not write it; I never wrote a play in my life.”

“Well,” cried Lady Say, “but do repeat that sweet part that I am so fond of—­you know what I mean; Miss Burney must hear it,—­out of your novel, you know!”

Lady H.-No, I can’t ; I have forgot it.

Lady S.-Oh, no!  I am sure you have not; I insist upon it.

Lady H.-But I know you can repeat it yourself; you have so fine a memory; I am sure you can repeat it;

Lady S.-Oh, but I should not do it justice! that’s all,—­I should not do it justice!

Lady Hawke then bent forward, and repeated—­“’If, when he made the declaration of his love, the sensibility that beamed in his eyes was felt in his heart, what pleasing sensations and soft alarms might not that tender avowal awaken!’”

“And from what, ma’am,” cried I, astonished, and imagining I had mistaken them, “is this taken?”

“From my sister’s novel!” answered the delighted Lady Say and Sele, expecting my raptures to be equal to her own; “it’s in the ’Mausoleum,’—­did not you know that?  Well, I can’t think how you can write these sweet novels!  And it’s all just like that part.  Lord Hawke himself says it’s all poetry.  For my part, I’m sure I never could write so.  I suppose, Miss Burney, you are producing another,—­a’n’t you?”

“No, ma’am.”

227

“oh, I dare say you are.  I dare say you are writing one this Very minute!”

Mrs. Paradise now came up to me again, followed by a square man, middle-aged, and hum-drum, who, I found was Lord Say and Sele, afterwards from the Kirwans, for though they introduced him to me, I was so confounded by their vehemence and their manners, that I did not hear his name.