Barford Abbey Part 20

Hear in what manner I proceeded;--You may suppose the hurry in which I left Dover:--I took no leave of my friend;--his humane apothecary promis'd not to quit him in my absence:--I gave orders when his Lordship enquir'd for me, that he should be told particular business of my _own_ had call'd me to town express.--It happen'd very convenient that I left him in a profound sleep.

Away I flew,--agitated betwixt _hope_ and _fear_:--harra.s.s'd by fatigue;--not in a bed for three nights before;--nature was almost wore out, when I alighted at the banker's.

I accosted one of the clerks, desiring to speak with Mr. or Mrs. Delves [Footnote: The name of the banker.]:--the former not at home, I was immediately conducted to the latter, a genteel woman, about forty.--She receiv'd me politely; but before I could acquaint her with the occasion of my visit, the door open'd, and in stepp'd a pretty sprightly girl, who on seeing me was going to retire.--Do you want any thing, my love?

said Mrs. Delves. Only, Madam, she replied, if you think it proper for Miss Warley to get up.

Miss Warley! exclaim'd I.--Great G.o.d! Miss Warley!--Tell me, Ladies, is Miss Warley _really_ under your roof?--Both at once, for _both_ seem'd equally dispos'd to diffuse happiness, answer'd to my wishes.

I threw myself back in my chair:--the surprise was more than I could support.--Shall I tell you all my weakness?--I even shed tears;--yes, d.i.c.k, I shed tears:--but they were drops of heart-felt gladness.

The Ladies look'd on each other,--Mrs. Delves said in a tone that shew'd she was not without the darling pa.s.sion of her s.e.x,

Pardon me, Sir; I think I have heard Miss Warley has _no_ brother,--or I should think _your_ emotion I saw him before me.--But whoever you are, this humanity is n.o.ble.--Indeed, the poor young Lady has been extremely ill.

I am not her brother, Madam, return'd I.--It is true, she has _no_ brother;--but _she has_ parents, _she has_ friends, who lament her dead:--_their_ sorrow has been _mine_.

I fear, Sir, return'd she, it will not end here.--I grieve to tell you, the Miss Warley you speak of is not with me;--I know nothing of that Lady:--my Miss Warley has no parents.

I still persisted it was the same; and, to the no small gratification of both mother and daughter, promis'd to explain the mystery.--But before I began, Miss Delves was sent to desire Miss Warley would continue in bed an hour longer, on account of some visitors that had dropp'd in accidentally.

Soon as Miss Delves return'd, I related every particular.--I cannot tell you half that pa.s.s'd;--I cannot describe their astonishment:--but let me _tell_ you Miss Powis is just recover'd from the small-pox;--that this was the second day of her sitting up:--let me _tell_ you _too_ her face is as beautiful as ever.--On mature deliberation, it was determin'd, for the sake of Miss Powis's health, she must some time longer think her name Warley.

I din'd with my new acquaintance, on their promising to procure an interview for me with Miss Powis in the afternoon.

It was about five when I was admitted to her presence.--I found her in an elegant dressing-room, sitting on a sopha: her head a little reclin'd.--I stepp'd slow and softly: she arose as I enter'd.--I wonder not that Darcey adores her, never was a form so perfect!

My trembling knees beat one against another.--My heart,--my impatient heart flew up to my face to tell its joyful sensations.--I ventur'd to press her hand to my lips, but was incapable of p.r.o.nouncing a syllable.--She was confus'd:--she certainly thought of Darcey, when she saw his friend.--I took a chair next her.--I shall not repeat our conversation 'till it became interesting, which began by her asking, if I had heard lately any accounts from Barford Abbey?--Lord Darcey, Madam, I reply'd, has receiv'd a letter from Sir James.

Lord Darcey! she repeated with great emotion.--Is Sir James and Lady Powis well. Sir?

His Lordship, reply'd I, awkwardly, did not mention particulars.--I believe,--I suppose.--your friends are well.

I fear, said she sighing, they will think me an ungrateful creature.--No person, Mr. Molesworth, had ever _such_ obligations to their friends as _I have_--This family, looking at the two Ladies, must be rank'd with my best.--Their replies were polite and affectionate--Can you tell me, Sir, continued she, if Lord--here her face was all over crimson--heavens! I mean, if Mr. Powis and his Lady are at the Abbey?--Why did she not say Lord Darcey? I swear the name quiver'd on her lips.

I answer'd in the affirmative;--and sitting silent a moment,--she ask'd how I discover'd her to be still in England.--I said by means of a servant:--true enough, d.i.c.k:--but then I was oblig'd to add, this servant belonged to Mr. Delves, and that he accidentally happen'd a few hours since to mention her name whilst I was doing business in the shop.--She was fond of dwelling on the family at the Abbey;--on Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings;--and once when I mention'd my friend, when I said how happy I should make him at my return;--pleasure, the most difficult to be conceal'd of any sensation, sprang to her expressive eyes.

I suppose she will expect a visit from his Lordship.--If she is angry at being disappointed, no matter: the mistake will be soon clear'd up.

The moment I left her, I stepp'd into a chaise that waited for me at the door, and drove like lightning from stage to stage, 'till I reach'd this place;--my drivers being turn'd into Mercuries by a touch more efficacious than all the oaths that can be swore by a first-rate blood.

I did not venture into Darcey's apartment 'till he was inform'd of my return.--I heard him impatiently ask to see me, as I stood without the door. This call'd me to him;--when pulling aside the curtain he ask'd, Who is that?--Is it Molesworth?--Are you come, my friend? But what have you seen?--what have you heard?--looking earnestly in face.--_I_ am past joy,--past feeling pleasure even for you, George;--yet tell me why you look not so sorrowful as yesterday.--

I ask'd what alteration it was he saw:--what it was he suspected.--When I have griev'd, my Lord, it has been for you.--If I am now less afflicted, you must be less miserable.--He started up in the bed, and grasping both my hands in his, cry'd. Tell me, Molesworth, is there a possibility,--a bare possibility?--I ask no more;--only tell me there is a possibility.

My Lord,--my friend,--my Darcey, nothing is impossible.

By heaven! he exclaim'd, you would not flatter me;--by heaven she lives!

Ask me not farther, my Lord.--What is the blessing you most wish for?--Suppose that blessing granted.--And you, Risby, suppose the extasy,--the thankfulness that ensued.--He that is grateful to man, can he be ungrateful to his Maker?

Yours,

MOLESWORTH.

LETTER x.x.xVII.

Miss Powis to Lady Powis.

_London_.

Think me not ungrateful, my ever-honour'd Lady, that I have been silent under the ten thousand obligations which I receiv'd at Barford Abbey.--But indeed, my dear Lady, I have been _very_ ill.--I have had the small-pox:--I was seiz'd delirious the evening after my arrival in Town.--My G.o.d! what a wretch did I set out with!--Vile man!--Man did I say?--_No_; he is a disgrace to _manhood_.--How shall I tell your Ladyship all I have suffer'd?--I am weak,--_very_ weak;--I find myself unequal to the task.--

This moment I have hit on an expedient that will unravel all;--I'll recall a letter [Footnote: This was the same Lord Darcey's servant saw on the counter.] which I have just sent down to be put into the post-office;--a letter I wrote Lady Mary Sutton immediately on my arrival here;--but was seiz'd so violently, that I could not add the superscription, for which reason it has lain by ever since.--I am easy on Lady Mary's account:--Mr. Delves has acquainted her of my illness:--like wise the prospect of my recovery.

Consider then, dear Lady Powis, the inclos'd as if it was address'd to yourself.

I cannot do justice to the affection,--the compa.s.sion,--the tender a.s.siduity I have experienc'd from Mr. Delves's family:--I shall always love them; I hope too I shall always be grateful.

G.o.d grant, my dear Lady;--G.o.d grant, dear Sir James, that long ere this you may have embrac'd Mr. and Mrs. Powis.--My heart is with _you_:--it delights to dwell at Barford Abbey.

In a few days I hope to do myself the honour of writing to your Ladyship again.--One line from your dear hand would be most gratefully receiv'd by your oblig'd and affectionate

F. WARLEY.

_P.S._ My good friends Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings shall hear from me next post.

LETTER x.x.xVIII.

Miss Powis to Lady MARY SUTTON.

Oh my dear Lady! what a villain have I escap'd from?--Could your Ladyship believe that a man, who, to all appearance, has made a good husband to your agreeable neighbour upwards of twelve years, and preserv'd the character of a man of honour;--could you believe in the decline of life he would have fallen off? No, he cannot have fallen: such a mind as his never was exalted.--It is the virtues of his wife that has. .h.i.therto made his vices imperceptible;--that has kept them in their dark cell, afraid to venture out;--afraid to appear amidst her shining perfections.--Vile, abandon'd Smith!--But for the sake of his injur'd, unhappy wife, I will not discover his baseness to any but yourself and Lady Powis.--Perhaps Mrs. Smith may not be unacquainted with his innate bad principles;--perhaps she conceals her knowledge of them knowing it vain to complain of a disorder which is past the reach of medicine.--What cure is there for mischief lurking under the mask of hypocrisy?--It must be of long standing before that covering can grow over it:--like a vellum on the eye, though taken off ever skillfully, it will again spread on the blemish'd sight.

How am I running on!--My spirits are flutter'd:--I begin where I should end, and end where I should begin.--Behold me, dearest Madam, just parted from my Hampshire friends,--silent and in tears, plac'd by the side of my miscreant conductor.--You know, my Lady, this specious man _can_ make himself vastly entertaining: he strove to render his conversation particularly so, on our first setting out.

We had travell'd several stages without varying the subject, which was that of our intended tour, when I said I hop'd it would conquer Mrs.

Smith's melancholy for the death of her brother.--How did his answer change him in a moment from the _most_ agreeable to the _most_ disgustful of his s.e.x!