’Tis true, he improves every hour, as I see in his fine speeches to you.  But it could not be Mr. B. if he did not:  your merit extorts it from him:  and what an ungrateful, as well as absurd churl, would he be, who should seek to obscure a meridian lustre, that dazzles the eyes of every one else?

I thank you for your delightful narratives, and beg you to continue them.  I told you how your Saturday’s conversation with Lady Davers, and your Sunday employments, charm us all:  so regular, and so easy to be performed—­That’s the delightful thing—­What every body may do;-and yet so beautiful, so laudable, so uncommon in the practice, especially among people in genteel life!—­Your conversation and decision in relation to the two parsons (more than charm) transport us.  Mr. B. judges right, and acts a charming part, to throw such a fine game into your hands.  And so excellently do you play it, that you do as much credit to your partner’s judgment as to your own.  Never was so happy a couple.

Mr. Williams is more my favourite than ever; and the amply rewarded Mr. Adams, how did that scene affect us!  Again and again, I say (for what can I say else or more—­since I can’t find words to speak all I think?), you’re a charming lady!  Yet, methinks, poor Mr. H. makes but a sorry figure among you.  We are delighted with Lady Davers; but still more, if possible, with the countess:  she is a fine lady, as you have drawn her:  but your characters, though truth and nature, are the most shocking, or the most amiable, that I ever read.

We are full of impatience to hear of the arrival of Sir Jacob Swynford.  We know his character pretty well:  but when he has sat for it to your pencil, it must be an original indeed.  I will have another trial with my papa, to move him to let me attend you.  I am rallying my forces, and have got my mamma on my side again; who is concerned to see her girl vexed and insulted by her younger sister; and who yet minds no more what she says to her, than what I say; and Sir Simon loves to make mischief between us, instead of interposing to silence either:  and truly, I am afraid his delight of this kind will make him deny his Polly what she so ardently wishes for.  I had a good mind to be sick, to be with you.  I could fast two or three days, to give it the better appearance; but then my mamma, who loves not deceit, would blame me, if she knew my stratagem; and be grieved, if she thought I was really ill.  I know, fasting, when one has a stomach to eat, gives one a very gloomy and mortified air.  What would I not do, in short, to procure to myself the inexpressible pleasure that I should have in your company and conversation?  But continue to write to me till then, however, and that will be next best.  I am your most obliged and obedient POLLY DARNFORD.

LETTER XXXVI

From the same.

My Dearest Mrs. B.,