Barford Abbey eBook

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

As I have promis’d to be at the Abbey early, I shall close this letter; and, if I have an opportunity, will write another by the same packet.—­Believe me ever, my dearest Lady, your most grateful and affectionate

F. WARLEY.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

BARFORD ABBEY,

A NOVEL: 

IN A

SERIES of LETTERS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL.  II.

MDCCLXVIII.

BARFORD ABBEY.

LETTER XXIII.

Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.

from Mr. Jenkings’s.

Oh what a designing man is Lord Darcey!—­He loves me not, yet fain would persuade me that he does.—­When I went yesterday morning to the Abbey, I met him in my way to Lady Powis’s dressing-room.—­Starting as if he had seen an apparition, and with a look which express’d great importance, he said, taking my hand, Oh!  Miss Warley, I have had the most dreadful night!—­but I hope you have rested well.

I have rested very well, my Lord; what has disturb’d your Lordship’s rest?

What, had it been real as it was visionary, would have drove me to madness.—­I dreamt, Miss Warley,—­I dreamt every thing I was possess’d of was torn from me;—­but now—­and here stopt.

Well, my Lord, and did not the pleasure of being undeceiv’d overpay all the pain which you had been deceiv’d into?

No, my angel!—­Why does he call me his angel?

Why, no:  I have such a sinking, such a load on my mind, to reflect it is possible,—­only possible it might happen, that, upon my word, it has been almost too much for me.

Ah! my Lord, you are certainly wrong to anticipate evils; they come fast enough, one need not run to meet them:—­besides, if your Lordship had been in reality that very unfortunate creature, you dreamt you were, for no rank or degree is proof against the caprice of Fortune,—­was nothing to be preserv’d entire?—­Fortune can require only what she gave:  fortitude, peace, and resignation, are not her gifts.

Oh!  Miss Warley, you mistake:  it was not riches I fancied myself dispossess’d of;—­it was, oh my God!—­what my peace, my very soul is center’d in!—­and his eyes turn’d round with so wild a stare, that really I began to suspect his head.

I trembled so I could scarce reach the dressing-room, though just at the door.—­The moment I turn’d from him, he flew like lightning over the stairs; and soon after, I saw him walking with Sir James on the terrace.  By their gestures I could discover their conversation was not a common one.

Mr. Morgan comes this instant in sight;—­a servant after him, leading my little horse.—­I am sorry to break off, but I must attend him;—­he is so good, I know your Ladyship would be displeas’d, was I to prolong my letter at the expence of his favour.—­Yours, my much honour’d,—­my much lov’d Lady,—­with all gratitude, with all affection,

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Barford Abbey from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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