Barford Abbey Part 5

I should be in a fine plight, truly, to let her go to France without me!--Why, I am almost besides myself at the thoughts of an eight days separation.--Was ever any thing so forgetful!--To bring no other cloaths here but mourning!--Did she always intend to encircle the sun with a sable cloud?--Or, why not dispatch a servant?--A journey into Oxfordshire is absolutely necessary.--Some _other_ business, I suppose; but I am not enough in her confidence to know of what nature.--Poh!

love!--Impossible, and refuse me so small a boon as to attend her!--requested too in a manner that spoke my whole soul.--Yes; I had near broke through all my resolutions.--This I did say, If Miss Warley refuses her dear hand, pressing it to my lips, in the same peremptory manner,--what will become of him who without it is lost to the whole world?--The reply ventur'd no further than her cheek;--there sat enthron'd in robes of crimson.--I scarce dar'd to look up:--her eyes darted forth a ray so powerful, that I not only quitted her hand, but suffered her to leave the room without my saying another word.--This happened at Jenkings's last evening; in the morning she was to set out with the old gentleman for Oxfordshire.--I did not attempt seeing her again 'till that time, fearing my presence might be unpleasing, after the confusion I had occasion'd.

Sick of my bed I got up at five; and taking a gun, directed my course to the only spot on earth capable of affording me delight.--The outer gate barr'd:--no appearance of any living creature, except poor Caesar.--He, hearing my voice, crept from his wooden-house, and, instead of barking, saluted me in a whining tone:--stretching himself, he jumped towards the gate, licking my hand that lay between the bars.--I said many kind things to this faithful beast, in hopes my voice would awaken some of the family.--The scheme succeeded.--A bell was sounded from one of the apartments; that opposite to which I stood.--A servant opening the window-shutters, I was tempted to keep my stand.--A white beaver with a green feather, and a riding-dress of the same colour, plainly told me this was the room where rested all my treasure, and caused in my mind such conflicts as can no more be described by _me_ than felt by _another_.--Unwilling to encrease my tortures I reeled to an old tree, which lay on a bank near;--there sat down to recover my trembling.--The next thing which alarmed me was an empty chaise, driving full speed down the hill.--I knew on _what_ occasion, yet could not forbear asking the post-boy.--He answered, To carry some company from yonder house.--My situation was really deplorable,--when I beheld my dear lovely girl walking in a pensive mood, attir'd in that very dress which I espied through the window.--Heavy was the load I dragged from head to heel; yet, like a Mercury, I flew to meet her.--She saw me,--started,--and cry'd, Bless me! my Lord! what brings you hither at this early hour?--The real truth was springing to my lips, when, recollecting her happiness might be the sacrifice, I said, examining the lock of my gun,--I am waiting, Miss Warley, for that lazy fellow Edmund:--he promised to shew me an eye of pheasants.--If you are not a very keen sportsman, returned she, what says your Lordship to a cup of chocolate?--It will not detain you long;--Mrs. Jenkings has some ready prepared for the travellers.

She p.r.o.nounced _travellers_ with uncommon glee;--at least I thought so,--and, nettled at her indifference, could not help replying, _You_ are _very_ happy, madam;--_you_ part with your friends _very_ unreluctantly, I perceive.

If any thing ever appeared in my favour, it was now.--Her confusion was visible;--even Edmund observed it, who just then strolled towards us, and said, looking at both attentively, What is the matter with Miss Warley?

With me, Edmund? she retorted,--nothing ails me.--I suppose you think I am enough of the fine lady to complain the whole day, because I have got up an hour before my usual time.

His tongue was _now_ silent;--his eyes _full_ of enquiries.--He fixed them on us alternately,--wanting to discover the situation of our hearts.--Why so curious, Edmund?--Things cannot go on long at this rate.--_Your_ heart must undergo a strict scrutiny before I shall know what terms we are upon.

No words can paint my grat.i.tude for worthy Jenkings.--He went to the Abbey, on foot, before breakfast was ended, to give me an opportunity of supplying his place in the chaise.--At parting he actually took one of my hands, joined it with Miss Warley's, and I could perceive pet.i.tions ascending from the seat of purity.--I know to what they tended.--I _felt_, I _saw_ them.--The chaise drove off. I could have blessed him.--May my blessings overtake him!--May they light where virtue sits enshrin'd by locks of silver.

Yes, if his son was to wound me in the tenderest part, for the sake of _such_ a father, I think,--I know not what to think.--Living in such suspence is next to madness.

She treats him with the freedom of a sister.--She calls him Edmund,--leans on his arm, and suffers him to take her hand.--The least favour conferred on me is with an air _so_ reserved, _so_ distant, as if she would say, I have not for you the least sentiment of tenderness.

Lady Powis sends to desire I will walk with her.--A sweet companion am I for a person in low spirits!--That her's are not high is evident.--She has shed many tears this morning at parting with Miss Warley.

Instead of eight days mortification we might have suffer'd twenty, had not her Ladyship insisted on an absolute promise of returning at that time.--Farewel till then.

Yours,

DARCEY.

LETTER XIII.

Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.

_From the Crown, at ----_.

Here am I, ever-honour'd lady, forty miles on the road to that beloved spot, where, for nineteen years, my tranquility was uninterrupted.--Will a serene sky always hang over me?--It will be presumption to suppose it,--when thousands, perhaps, endowed with virtues the most G.o.d-like, have nothing on which they can look _back_ but dark clouds,--nothing to which they can look _forward_ but gathering storms.--Am I a bark only fit to sail in fair weather?--Shall I not prepare to meet the waves of disappointment?

How does my heart bear,--how throb,--to give up follies which dare not hide themselves where a pa.s.sage is made _by_ generosity, _by_ affection unbounded.--Yes, my dear Lady, this is the only moment I do not regret being absent from you;--for could my tongue relate what my pen trembles to discover?--No!

Behold _me_ at your Ladyship's feet!--behold _me_ a supplicant suing for my returning peace!--_You_ only, can restore it.--Command that I give up my preference for Lord Darcey, and the intruder is banished from my heart:--_then_ shall I no more labour to deceive myself:--_then_ shall I no more blindly exchange certain peace for doubtful happiness,--a _quiet_ for a _restless_ mind.--Humility has not fled me;--my heart has not fallen a sacrifice to t.i.tle, pomp, or splendor.--Yet, has it not foolishly, unasked, given itself up?--Ah! my Lady, not entirely unask'd neither; or, why, from the first moment, have I seen him shew _such_ tender, _such_ respectful a.s.siduities?--why _so_ ardently solicit to attend me into Oxfordshire?--why ask, if I refused my hand in the same peremptory manner, what would become of the man who without it was lost to the whole world?--But am I not too vain?--Why should this man be Lord Darcey?--Rather one rising to his imagination, who he might possibly suppose was entrapped by my girlish years.--A few, a very _few_ weeks, and I am gone from him forever.--If your Ladyship's goodness can pardon the confession I have made, no errors will I again commit of the kind which now lies blushing before you.

Next to your Ladyship Mr. Jenkings is the best friend I have on earth.--He _never_ has suspected, or _now_ quite forgets his suspicions.--Not all my entreaties could prevent him from taking this long journey with me.--His age, his connections, his business, every thing is made subservient to my convenience--Whilst I write he is below, and has just sent up to know if I will permit a gentleman of his acquaintance, whom he has met accidentally at this inn, to dine with us.--Why does he use this ceremony?--I can have no objection to any friend of _his_.--Dinner is served up.--I shall write again at our last stage this evening.

_From the Mitre at ----_.

Past twelve at night!--An hour I used to think the most silent of any:--but _here_ so much the reverse, one reasonably may suppose the inhabitants, or guests, have mistaken midnight for mid-day.

I will ring and enquire, why all this noise?

A strange bustle!--Something like fighting!--Very near, I protest.--Hark! bless me, I shall be frightened to death!--The chambermaid not come! Would I could find my way to Mr. Jenkings's room!--Womens voices, as I live!--Begging!--praying!--Ah! ah! now they cry, Take the swords away!--Take the swords away!--Heaven defend us! to be sure we shall be all killed.

_One o'clock_.

Not kill'd, but terrified out of my senses.--Well, if ever I stop at this inn again--

You remember, Madam, I was thrown into a sad fright by the hurry and confusion without.--I dropped my pen, and pulled the bell with greater violence.--No one came;--the noise increas'd.--Several people ran up and down by the door of my apartment.--I flew and double lock'd it.--But, good G.o.d! what were my terrors, when a voice cried out, She cannot be brought to life!--Is there no a.s.sistance at hand?--no surgeon near?--I rushed from my chamber, in the first emotions of surprize and compa.s.sion, to mix in a confused croud, _unknowing_ and _unknown_.--I ventur'd no further than the pa.s.sage. Judge my astonishment, to perceive there, and in a large room which open'd into it, fifty or sixty well dressed people of both s.e.xes:--_Women_, some crying, some laughing:--_Men_ swearing, stamping, and calling upon others to come down and end the dispute below.--I thought of nothing _now_, but how to retreat un.o.bserv'd:--when a gentleman, in regimentals, ran so furiously up the stairs full against me, that I should have been instantly at the bottom, had not his extended arm prevented my flight.

I did not stay to receive his apologies, but hastened to my chamber, and have not yet recovered my trembling.--Why did I leave it?--Why was I so inconsiderate?

Another alarm!--Some one knocks at the door!--Will there be no end to my frights?

If one's spirits are on the flutter, how every little circ.u.mstance increases our consternation!--When I heard the tapping at my door, instead of enquiring who was there, I got up and stood against it.

Don't be afraid, _Mame_, said a voice without; it is only the chambermaid come with some drops and water.--With drops and water!

replied I, letting her in--who sent you hither?

Captain Risby, _Mame_, one of the officers:--he told me you was frighten'd.

I am oblig'd to the gentleman;--but set down the drops, I do not want any.--Pray tell me what has occasioned this uproar in your house?

To be sure, _Mame_, here has been a terrifying noise this night.--It don't use to be so;--but our _Town's_ Gentlemen have such a dislike to _Officers_, I suppose there will be no peace while they are in town.--I never saw the Ladies dress'd so fine in my life; and had the Colonel happen'd to ask one of the _Alderman's_ daughters to dance, all would have gone on well.

You have an a.s.sembly then in the house?

O yes, _Mame_, the a.s.sembly is always kept here.--And, as I was saying, the Colonel should have danced with one of our Alderman's daughters:--instead of that, he engag'd a daughter of Esquire Light, and introduced the Major and a _handsome Captain_ to her two sisters.--Now, to be sure, this was enough to enrage the best Trade's-People in the place, who can give their _young Ladies_ three times as much as Mr.

Light can his daughters.

I saw she was determin'd to finish her harangue, so did not attempt to interrupt her.

One of us chambermaids, _Mame_, continued she, always a.s.sist the waiters;--it was my turn this evening; so, as I was stirring the fire in the card-room, I could hear the Ladies whisper their partners, if they let strangers stand above them, they might dance with whom they could get for the future.--They were busy about the matter when the Colonel enter'd with Miss Light, who though she is _very_ handsome, _very_ sensible, and all that, it did not become her to wear a silver silk;--for what, as _our Ladies_ said, is family without fortune?--But I am running on with a story of an hour long.--So _Mame_, as soon as the Colonel and his partner went into the dancing-room,--_one_ cry'd, Defend me from French'd hair, if people's heads are to look like towers;--_another_, her gown sleeves were too large;--a _third_, the robeings too high;--a _fourth_, her ruff too deep:--in short, _Mame_, her very shoe-buckles shared the same fate.

This recital put me out of all patience:--I could not endure to see held up a picture, which, though out of the hands of a dauber, presented a true likeness of human nature in her most deprav'd state.--Enough, Mrs.

Betty, said I, now pray warm my bed; it is late, and I am fatigued.

O! to be sure, _Mame_; but will you not first hear what was the occasion of the noise?--The country-dances, continued she, not waiting my reply, began; and _our Town's Gentlemen_ ran to the top of the room, leaving the _Officers_ to dance at the bottom.--This put them in _so_ violent a pa.s.sion, that the Colonel swore, if _our_ Gentlemen persisted in their ill manners, not a soul should dance.--So, _Mame_, upon this _our_ Gentlemen let some of the Officers stand above them;--and there was no dispute till after ten.--What they quarrelled about then I don't know;--but, when I came into the room, they were all going to fight;--and fight they certainly would, if they could have got _our_ Gentlemen down stairs.--Not one of them would stir, which made the others so mad, that they would have pulled them down, had not the Ladies interfered.--Then it was, _Mame_, I suppose, you heard the cries and shrieks; for every one that had _husbands, brothers_, or _admirers_ there, took hold of them; begging and praying they would not fight.--Poor Miss Peggy Turner will have a fine rub; for she always deny'd to her _Mamma_, that there was any thing in the affair between her and Mr. Grant the Attorney. Now she has discovered all, by fainting away when he broke from her to go to the other end of the room.

I hope there has been no blood shed?

None, I'll a.s.sure you, _Mame_, in this house; what happens out of it is no business of mine. Now, _Mame_, would you please to go to bed? By all means, Mrs. Betty.--So away went my communicative companion. Being much tired, I shall lay down an hour or two, then rea.s.sume my pen.

_Four o'clock in the morning_.

Not able to close my eyes, I am got up to have the pleasure of introducing to your Ladyship the Gentleman who I mention'd was to dine with us at the other inn. Judge my surprize, when I found him to be the worthy Dean of H---- going into Oxfordshire to visit his former flock;--I knew him before Mr. Jenkings p.r.o.nounced his name, by the strong likeness of his picture.