Barford Abbey Part 15

Welcome,--doubly welcome, every moment which brings me nearer to that when I shall kiss the hands of my honour'd Lady;--when I shall be able to tell you, in person, ten thousand things too much for my pen;--when you will kindly say, Tell me all, my f.a.n.n.y, tell me every secret of your heart.--Happy sounds!--pleasing sounds! these will be to your grateful and affectionate

F. WARLEY.

LETTER XXV.

Miss WARLEY to the same.

_From Mr. Jenkings's_.

Now, my dear Lady, am I ready for my departure:--Sir James and Lady Powis reconciled to my leaving them;--yet how can I call it reconciled, when I tear myself from their arms as they weep over me?--Heavens! how tenderly they love me!--Their distress, when I told them the day was absolutely fix'd; when I told them the necessity of my going, _their_ distress nothing could equal but my _own_.--I thought my heart would have sunk within me!--Surely, my Lady, my affection for them is not a common affection;--it is _such_ as I hear your dear self;--it is _such_ as I felt for my revered Mrs. Whitmore.--I cannot dwell on this subject--indeed I cannot.

I almost wish I had not kept the day so long a secret.--But suppose I had not,--would their concern have been lessen'd?

I would give the world, if Mr. Jenkings was come home:--his wife is like a frantic woman; and declares, if I persist in going, I shall break the heart of her and her husband.--Why do they love me so well?--It cannot be from any deserts of mine:--I have done no more than common grat.i.tude demands;--the affection I shew them is only the result of their own kindness.--Benevolent hearts never place any thing to their own account:--they look on returns as presents, not as just debts:--so, whether giving or receiving, the glory must be their's.

I fancy Mr. Smith will not be here 'till to morrow, his Lady having wrote me, he intended spending the evening with an acquaintance of his about six miles from the Abbey.

How I dread the hour of parting!--Poor Mr. Watson!--I fear I shall never see _him_ more.--Mr. Morgan _too!_ but he is likely to live many years.--There is something in this strange man excessively engaging.--If people have roughness, better to appear in the voice, in the air and dress, than in the heart: a want of softness _there_, I never can dispense with.--What is a graceful form, what are numberless accomplishments, without humanity? I love, I revere, the honest, plain, well-meaning Mr. Morgan.

Hark! I hear the trampling of horses.--Mr. Jenkings is certainly return'd.--I hasten down to be the first who shall inform him of my departure.

How am I mortified to see Aaron return without his master!--Whilst Mrs.

Jenkings was busied in enquiries after the health of her good man, I was all impatience for the contents of a letter she held in her hand, unopen'd: having broke the seal, and run her eye hastily over it, she gave it me.--I think my recollection will serve to send it verbatim to your Ladyship.

Mr. JENKINGS to Mrs. JENKINGS.

"My Dear,

I dispatch Aaron to acquaint you it is impossible for me to be home till Wednesday. Mr. Stapleton is gone to London: I am obliged to attend Lord Darcey thither. I love his Lordship _more_ and _more_.--He has convinc'd me _our_ conjectures were not without foundation.--Heaven grant it may end to _our_ wishes!--There are, he thinks, difficulties to be overcome.

Let him think it:--his happiness will be more exquisite when he is undeceiv'd.--Distribute my dutiful respects to Sir James, Lady Powis, and Miss Warley; next to yourself and our dear Edmund, they are nearest the heart of your truly affectionate husband

JENKINGS."

I will make no comments on this letter; it cannot concern _me_,--What can I do about seeing Mr. Jenkings before I go?--

Lord bless me! a chaise and four just stopp'd; Mr. Smith in it.--Heavens! how my heart throbs!--I did not expect him 'till to-morrow: I must run to receive him.--How shall I go up to the Abbey!--how support the last embrace of Sir James and Lady Powis!

Ten at Night, just come from the Abbey.

Torn in pieces!--my poor heart torn in pieces!--I shall never see them more;--never again be strain'd to their parental bosoms.--Forgive me, my dearest Lady, I do not grieve that I am coming to _you_; I grieve only that I go from _them_.--Oh G.o.d! why must my soul be divided?

Another struggle too with poor Mrs. Jenkings!--She has been on her knees:--yes, thus lowly has she condescended to turn me from my purpose, and suffer Mr. Smith to go back without me,--I blush to think what pain, what trouble I occasion.--She talks of some _important event_ at hand.

She says if I go, it will, end in the destruction of us all.--What can she mean by an _important event?_--Perhaps Lord Darcey--but no matter; nothing, my dear Lady, shall with-hold me from you.--The good woman is now more calm. I have a.s.sured her it is uncertain how long we may be in London: it is only that has calm'd her.--She says, she is _certain_ I shall return;--she is _certain_, when Mr. Powis and his Lady arrives, _I must_ return.--Next Thursday they are expected:--already are they arrived at Falmouth:--but, notwithstanding what I have told Mrs.

Jenkings, to soften her pains at parting, I shall by Thursday be on my voyage;--for Mr. Smith tells me the Packet will sail immediately.--Perhaps I may be the messenger of my own letters:--but I am determin'd to write on 'till I see you;--that when I look them over, my memory may receive some a.s.sistance.--Good night, my dearest Lady; Mrs. Jenkings and Mr. Smith expects me.

F. Warley.

LETTER XXVI.

Lord DARCEY to Sir JAMES POWIS.

London.

Even whilst I write, I see before me the image of my expiring father;--I hear the words that issued from his death-like lips;--my soul feels the weight of his injunctions;--_again_ in my imagination I seal the sacred promise on his livid hand;--and my heart bows before Sir James with all that duty which is indispensable from a child to a parent.

Happiness is within my reach, yet without _your_ sanction I _will_ not, _dare_ not, bid it welcome;--I _will_ not hold out my hand to receive _it_.--Yes, Sir, I love Miss Warley; I can no longer disguise my sentiments.--On the terrace I should not have disguis'd them, if your warmth had not made me tremble for the consequence.--You remember my arguments _then_; suffer me now to reurge _them_.

I allow it would be convenient to have my fortune augmented by alliance; but then it is not _absolutely_ necessary I should make the purchase with my felicity.--A thousand chances may put me in possession of riches;--one event only can put me in possession of content.--Without _it_, what is a fine equipage?--what a splendid retinue?--what a table spread with variety of dishes?

Judge for me, Sir James; _you_ who _know_, who _love_ Miss Warley, judge for me.--Is it possible for a man of my turn to see her, to talk with her, to know her thousand _virtues_, and not wish to be united to them?--It is to your candour I appeal.--_Say_ I _am_ to be happy, _say_ it only in one line, I come immediately to the Abbey, full of reverence, of esteem, of grat.i.tude.

Think, dear Sir James, of Lady Powis;--think of the satisfaction you hourly enjoy with that charming woman; then will you complete the felicity of

DARCEY.

LETTER XXVII.

Sir JAMES POWIS to Lord DARCEY.

_Barford Abbey_.

I am not much surpris'd at the contents of your Lordship's letter, it is _what_ Lady Powis and I have long conjectur'd; yet I must tell, you, my Lord, notwithstanding Miss Warley's great merit, I should have been much better pleas'd to have found myself mistaken.

I claim no right to controul your inclinations: the strict observance you pay your father's last request, tempts me to give my opinion very opposite to what I should otherwise have done.--Duty like yours ought to be rewarded.--If you will content yourself with an inc.u.mber'd estate rather than a clear one, why--why--why--faith you shall not have my approbation 'till you come to the Abbey. Should you see the little bewitching Gipsy before I talk with you, who knows but you may be wise enough to make a larger jointure than you can afford?

I am glad your Lordship push'd the matter no farther on the terrace: I did not then know how well I lov'd our dear girl.--My wife is _so_ pleas'd,--_so_ happy,--_so_ overjoy'd,--at what she calls your n.o.ble disinterested regard for her f.a.n.n.y, that one would think she had quite forgot the value of _money_.--I expect my son to-morrow.--Let me have the happiness of embracing you at the same time;--you are both my children, &c. &c.:

J. Powis.

LETTER XXVIII.

Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.