Barford Abbey eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 142 pages of information about Barford Abbey.

Sir James would rave at my imprudence.—­Lady Powis, whatever are her sentiments, must give them up to his opinion.—­Inevitably I lose the affection of persons I have sacredly—­promised to obey,—­sacredly.—­Was not my promise given to a dying father?—­Miss Warley has no tye; yet, by the duty she observes to Sir James and Lady Powis, you would think her bound by the strongest cords of nature.

Scarce a moment from her:—­at Jenkings’s every morning;—­on foot if good weather,—­else in the coach for the convenience of bringing her with me.—­I am under no constraint:—­Sir James and her Ladyship seem not the least suspicious:  this I much wonder at, in the former particularly.

In my tete-a-tetes with Miss Warley, what think you are our subjects?—­Chiefly divinity, history, and geography.—­Of these studies she knows more than half the great men who have wrote for ages past.—­On a taste for the two latter I once prided myself.—­An eager pursuit for the former springs up in my mind, whilst conversing with her, like a plant long hid in the earth, and called out by the appearance of a summer’s sun.—­This sun must shine at Faulcon Park;—­without it all will be dreary:—­yet how can I draw it thither?—­Edmund—­but why should I fear Edmund?

Will you, or will you not, meet your old friend Finch here next Wednesday?—­Be determined in your answer.—­I have suspence enough on my hands to be excused from any on your account.—­Sir James thinks it unkind you have not called on him since I left England;—­hasten therefore to make up matters with the baronet,—­Need I say the pleasure I shall have in shaking you by the hand?

DARCEY.

LETTER VII.

The Hon. GEORGE MOLESWORTH to Lord DARCEY.

Bath.

Wednesday next you shall see me,—­positively you shall.—­Bridgman will be of the party.

I propose an immensity of satisfaction from this visit.—­Forbid it, heaven!  Miss Warley’s opposite should again give me a meeting at the Abbey.—­After the conversation I am made to expect, how should I be mortified to have my ears eternally dinn’d with catgut work,—­painting gauze,—­weaving fringes,—­and finding out enigmas?—­Setting a fine face, Miss Winter is out-done by Fletcher’s Nancy.—­A-propos, I yesterday saw that very wise girl step into a chaise and wheel off for Scotland, begging and praying we would make the best of it to her mamma.—­Not the least hand had I in this affair; but, willing to help out people in distress, at the entreaties of Lord Michell, I waited on the old Lady at her lodging.

I found her in a furious plight,—­raving at her servants,—­packing up her cloaths, and reflecting on her relations who had persuaded her to come to Bath.—­When I entered she was kneeling by a huge travelling trunk, stuffing in a green purse at one corner, which I supposed to be full of gold.

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Barford Abbey from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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