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added, “so respectably offered, not solicited, you may have opportunities of serving your particular friends,—­especially your father,—­such as scarce any other could afford you.”

My dear Miss Cambridge will easily feel that this was a plea not to be answered.  Yet the attendance upon this princess was to be incessant,—­the confinement to the court continual; I was scarce ever to be spared for a single visit from the palaces, nor to receive anybody but with permission,—­and, my dear Miss Cambridge, what a life for me, who have friends so dear to me, and to whom friendship is the balm, the comfort, the very support of existence!

Don’t think me ungrateful, meanwhile, to the sweet queen, for thus singling out and distinguishing an obscure and most unambitious individual.  No indeed, I am quite penetrated with her partial and most unexpected condescension ; but yet, let me go through, for her sake, my tasks with what cheerfulness I may, the deprivations I must suffer would inevitably keep me from all possibility of happiness.

Though I said but little, my dear Mrs. Delany was disturbed and good Mr. Smelt much mortified, that a proposition which had appeared to them the most flattering and honourable, should be heard only with dejection.  I cast, however, the whole into my father’s disposal and pleasure.

But I have time for no more detail, than merely to say, that till the offer comes in form, no positive answer need be given, and therefore that I am yet at liberty.  Write to me, then, my dearest Miss Cambridge, with all your fullest honesty, and let me know which you wish to strengthen—­my courage in making my real sentiments openly known, or my fortitude in concealing what it may be right I should endure. . . .

Monday Night,

I have now to add, that the zealous Mr. Smelt is just returned from Windsor, whither he went again this morning, purposely to talk the matter over with her majesty.  What passed I know not,-but the result is, that she has desired an interview with me herself; it is to take place next Monday, at Windsor.  I now see the end—­I see it next to inevitable.  I can suggest nothing upon earth that I dare say for myself, in an audience so generously meant.  I cannot even to my father utter my reluctance,—­I see him so much delighted at the prospect of an establishment he looks upon as so honourable.  But for the queen’s own word “permanent,”—­but for her de-330

clared desire to attach me entirely to herself and family!—­I should share in his pleasure; but what can make me amends for all I shall forfeit?  But I must do the best I can,