Barford Abbey eBook

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

However, I would consent to be rank’d in the number of Cupid’s slain, could I be hit by just such a dart as pierc’d you.

Vulcan certainly has none ready made that will do, unless he sharpens the points of those which have already recoiled.

But hold; I must descend from the clouds, to regale myself on a fine turtle at the Duke of R——­d’s.  What an epicure! Talk of feasting my palate, when my eyes are to meet delicacies of a far more inviting nature!—­There was a time I should have been envy’d such a repast:—­that time is fled;—­you are no longer a monopolizer of beauty;—­can sing but of one,—­talk but of one—­dream but of one,—­and, what is still more extraordinary, love but one.—­

Give me a heart at large;—­such confin’d notions are not for

MOLESWORTH.

LETTER XV.

Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.

Barford Abbey.

I envy not the greatest monarch on earth!—­She is return’d with my peace;—­my joy;—­my very soul.—­Had you seen her restorative smiles! they spoke more than my pen can describe!—­She bestow’d them on me, even before she ran to the arms of Sir James and Lady Powis.—­Sweet condescension!—­Her hand held out to meet mine, which, trembling, stopt half way.—­What checks,—­what restraint, did I inflict on myself!—­Yes, that would have been the decisive moment, had I not perceiv’d the eyes of Argus planted before, behind, on every side of Sir James.—­God! how he star’d.—­I suppose my looks made some discovery.—­Once more I must take thee up, uneasy dress of hypocrisy;—­though it will be as hard to girt on, as the tight waistcoat on a lunatic.

Never has a day appear’d to me so long as this.—­Full of expectation, full of impatience!—­All stuff again.—­No matter; it is not the groans of a sick man, that can convey his pain to another:—­to feel greatly, you must have been afflicted with the same malady.

I suppose you would laugh to hear how often I have opened and shut the door;—­how often look’d out at the window,—­or the multiplicity of times examined my watch since ten this morning!—­Needless would it likewise be to recount the impatient steps I have taken by the road-side, attentive to the false winds, which would frequently cheat me into a belief, that my heart’s treasure was approaching.—­Hark!  I should say, that must be wheels;—­stop and pause;—­walk forwards;—­stop again, till every sound have died upon my ear.

Harrass’d by expectation, I saunter’d a back way to Jenkings’s;—­enquired of Mrs. Jenkings, what time she thought her husband might be home; and taking Edmund with me to my former walk, determined to sound his inclinations.—­I waved mentioning Miss Warley’s name till we had gone near a quarter of a mile from the house; still expecting he would begin the subject, which at this juncture I suppose particularly engaged his attention; but perceiving he led to things quite opposite, I drew him out in the following manner.

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Barford Abbey from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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