Barford Abbey Part 21

My wife, Miss Warley, with a leer that made him look dreadful, wants your charming sprightliness:--it is a curs'd thing to be connected with a gloomy woman:--

_Gloomy_, Sir! casting at him a look of disdain; do you call mildness, complacency, and evenness of temper, _gloomy?_

She is much altered, Madam;--is grown old and peevish;--her health is bad;--she cannot live long.

Mrs. Smith can never be _peevish_, Sir;--and as to her _age_, I thought it pretty near your _own_.

No, no, Madam, you are quite mistaken; I am at least five years younger.

Five years, Sir! what are five years at _your_ time of life!

Come, come, Miss Warley, laying his huge paw on my hand, and in a tone of voice that shew'd him heartily nettled;--even at _my_ time of life I can admire a beautiful young Lady.--If my wife should die,--_old as I am_--men _older_ than myself, with half my estate, have married some of the finest women in the kingdom.

Very likely, Sir;--but then it is to be suppos'd the characters of _such_ men have been particularly amiable,--No man or woman of honour can esteem another whose principles are doubtful.

This was a pretty home-thrust; it put him more on his guard for the present; but had he behav'd like an angel, I must have hated him. He was _very_ respectful, _very_ ceremonious, and _very_ thoughtful, 'till we arrived at the inn where we were to stop the night; and had so much art not to seem displeas'd, that I refus'd giving him my company at supper, under pretence of indisposition.--Indeed, I was far from well: a child which I had seen a few hours before fresh in the small-pox, a good deal disconcerted me.--After fixing on my room, not to appear suspicious, I went down at his request, to eat a bit of cake and drink a gla.s.s of wine, before I retired for the night.--I had scarce swallow'd it when he left me, as he said, to speak to the drivers. I wished him a good night as he went out, and took an opportunity a few moments after to go to my chamber.--When there I lock'd the door, and sat myself down to undress; but I began to be greatly alarm'd by something that mov'd under the bed.--Judge my surprize,--judge my horror,--on taking the candle and examining, to see there a man!--But how was that surprize,--that horror increased, on discovering, him to be the vile Smith!--I gave a loud scream, and ran towards the door; but had not power to turn the key, before he caught me in his arms.--

Be calm, Miss Warley, cried the monster;--hear what I have to say.--Suffer me to tell you, that I love you to distraction;--that I adore you.

_Adore_ me, vile man! said I, breaking from him:--leave me this instant--begone:--leave me, I say, instantly.--Again I scream'd.

No, by heaven! he reply'd, I will not go 'till you have heard and pardon'd me.--Here I stand _determin'd_ to be heard:--_hear_ me, or this moment is my last.--With that he drew out a pistol, and held it to his breast.

And _dare_ you, said I, collecting all my resolution,--_dare_ you rush into eternity, without one virtue to offer up with your polluted soul?--I p.r.o.nounc'd these words with steadiness.--_He_ trembled, he look'd like a criminal at the hour of execution.--Letting the pistol drop from his hand, the base dissembler fell on his knees before me.--n.o.body hearing my cries,--n.o.body coming to my a.s.sistance, I was oblig'd to hear, and pretend to credit his penitential protestations.

G.o.d knows how my ears might have been farther shock'd with his odious pa.s.sion;--what indignities I might have suffer'd,--had I not heard some person pa.s.sing by the door of my apartment:--on which I ventur'd to give another scream.--The door was instantly burst open; and whilst an elderly Gentleman advanc'd towards me, full of surprize, the detested brute slipp'd away.--This Gentleman, my good deliverer, was no other than your Ladyship's banker, who when he was acquainted with my name, insisted on taking me to Town in his own coach, where he was returning from a visit he had made at Salisbury--I did not ask, neither do I know what became of Smith; but I suppose he will set out with his wife immediately for Dover.--Thank G.o.d! I am not of the party--How I pity poor Miss Frances Walsh, a young Lady who, he told me, was waiting at his house in Town to go over with them.--I am but just arriv'd at Mr.

Delves's house.--Mr. and Mrs. Delves think with me, that the character of the _unworthy_ Smith should not be expos'd for the sake of his _worthy_ wife.--The family here are all amiable.--I could say a great deal more; but my head aches dreadfully.--This I must add, I have consented, at the tender intreaties of Mr. and Mrs. Delves, to remain with them 'till a proper opportunity offers to throw myself at your Ladyship's feet.--My head grows worse;--I must lay down my pen.--This bad man has certainly frighten'd me into a fever.

[The following lines were added after Miss Powis's recovery]

I hope, my dear Lady, before this you have Mr. Delves's letter;--if so, you know I have had the small-pox.--You know too I am out of danger.--How can I be thankful enough for so many escapes!--This is the first day I have been able to hold a pen.--I am permitted to write no more than the name of your honour'd and affectionate

F. WARLEY.

LETTER x.x.xIX

Captain RISBY to the Honourable GEORGE

_Barford Abbey_.

Will all the thanks,--all the grat.i.tude,--the parents blessings,--their infinity of joy, be contain'd in one poor sheet?--No:--Was I to repeat half,--only half of what they send, you, I might write on for ever.--One says you shall be their son;--another, their brother;--a third, that you are a man most favour'd of heaven--but all agree, as a reward for your virtues you are impower'd to heal afflictions--in short, they want to make me think you can make black white--But enough for the vanity of one man.

I dread your coming to the Abbey.--We that are here already, shall only, then, appear like pismires:--but let me caution my friend not to think his head will touch the clouds.

What man can bear to be twice disinherited?--Mr. Morgan's estate, which the other day I was solely to possess, is now to devolve on the Honourable George Molesworth.--_But mark me_:--As I have been disinherited for you,--_you_ as certainly will be disinherited for Lord Darcey.

See what a man of consequence I am.--Does Captain Risby say _this?_--Does Captain Risby say _that?_--Does Captain Risby think well of it?

Expect, George, to behold me push'd into perferment against my will;--all great people _say_ so, you know;--expect to behold me preside as governor of this castle.--Let me enjoy it then,--let me plume myself beneath the sun-beam.

If to witness the honours with I am surrounded, is insufficient to fill your expanded heart;--if it looks out for a warmer gratification; you shall see, you shall hear, the exulting parents?--you shall see Mr.

Morgan revers'd;--Mr. Watson restor'd to _more_ than sight--the steward and his family worthy every _honour_ they receive from this _honourable house_.

I hear my _shadow_.--Strange, indeed! to hear _shadows_;--but more so to hear them swear.--Ha! ha! ha!--Ha! ha! ha!--I cannot speak to it for laughing.--Coming, Sir!--coming, Mr. Morgan!--Now is he cursing me in every corner of the house;--I suppose dinner is on the table.

This moment return'd from regaling myself with the happy family:--I mean Sir James and Lady Powis, with their joyful inmates.--Mr. and Mrs. Powis are set out for London.--As an addition to their felicity, Lady Powis had a letter from her grand-daughter the instant they were stepping into the chaise.

For one hour I am at your command:--take, then, the particulars which I was incapable of giving you by John.--

I was sitting in the library-window, talking to Mr. Watson; the Ladies, Sir James, and Mr. Morgan, in the dressing-room, when I saw John riding down the great road a full gallop.--At first I thought Lord Darcey had been dead; then, again, consider'd his faithful servant would not have come post with the news:--however, I had not patience to go through the house, but lifting up a sash, jump'd out before he could reach the stable yard.--Without speaking, I enquired of his face what tidings; and was answer'd by a broad grin. I had nothing to fear from his message.

Well, John, said I, running up to him,--how is your Lord? how is Mr.

Molesworth?--

Better, I thank G.o.d, Sir;--better, I thank G.o.d! With that he turned his horse, and was riding across the lawn.--

Zounds, John, where are you going?--where are you going?

Follow me, Sir;--follow me (setting up a brisk trot). If you kill me, I dare not deliver letter or message before we are at a distance from the Abbey.

I thought him mad, but kept on by the side of his horse 'till we came to the gate of a meadow, where he dismounted.

Now, Sir,' said he, with a look that bespoke his consequence,--have patience, whilst I tie up my horse.

_Patience_, John! (and I swore at him) I am out of all _patience_.

With that he condescended to deliver your letters.--I rambled with surprise at the contents, and fell against a hedge.--John, who by this time had fasten'd his steed, came up to me just as I recover'd my legs;--and speaking close to my ear,--'Twas _John Warren_, Sir, was the _man_ who found out the Lady; 'twas I was the _man_, Sir.

I shook him heartily by the hand, but for my soul could not utter a syllable.--I hope you are not ill, Sir, said the poor fellow, thinking me seiz'd speechless.--

No, John;--no, reply'd I; it is only excess of pleasure.--You are a welcome messenger:--you have made your fortune, John Warren, and please your honour, has made his dear Lord happy;--that is more _pleasurable_ to him than all the riches in the world.

You are an honest, good creature, John.

Ay, Captain; but was it not very sensible to remember the young Lady's hand-writing?--Would a powder-headed monkey have had the forecast?

Oh very sensible, John;--very sensible, indeed!--Now go the Abbey;--ask for my servant;--say you was sent by Mr. Molesworth to enquire for the family; but do not mention you have seen me:--I shall return by a different way.

John mounted immediately, and I walk'd full speed towards the house. I found Mr. Morgan taking long strides up and down the dining-parlour, puffing, blowing, and turning his wig on every side.

Where have you been, Captain? I have sent to seek you.--Lord Darcey's servant is without;--come to enquire how things are _here_.--I would not let them send his message up;--but I have been out myself to ask for his Lordship.

Well, Sir, and what says the servant?

Says!--Faith I hardly know what he says--something about hopes of him:--to be plain, I should think it better if _hope_ was out of the question.--If _he_ and all of _us_ were dead--But see John yourself; I will send him to you.