The plan settled, Lady Mary withdrew to prepare Miss Powis for our reception.—­A footman soon came with a message from her Ladyship that she expected us.

I was all compassionate at this moment:—­the conflicts of my feeble friend were not to be conceal’d.—­We follow’d Mr. Powis;—­the door open’d;—­Darcey turn’d half round, and laying his cold clammy hand on mine, said, Oh Molesworth! my happiness is in view!—­how can I meet it?

Inimitable creature!—­Can I describe your reception of my friend?—­can I describe the dignity of beauty;—­the melting softness of sensibility;—­the blushing emotion of surprize?—­No, Risby;—­impossible!

The Ladies stood to receive us; Miss Powis supported between her mother and Lady Mary;—­she all graceful timidity;—­they all extasy and rapture.—­Do you not expect to see Darcey at the feet of his mistress?—­No; at Mrs. Powis’s, at Lady Mary’s, he fell.

The eyes of his Adorable glisten’d.—­He was rais’d, and embrac’d tenderly—­by the parents,—­by Lady Mary.—­Mr. Powis said, presenting him to his delighted daughter, You, my dear, must make our returns of gratitude to Lord Darcey;—­giving him her more than passive hand, which he press’d to his lips with fervor, saying, This is the hour my soul has flown up to petition—­Dearest, best of women! tell me I am welcome.

She attempted to reply;—­it was only an attempt.

She does bid you welcome, return’d Mr. Powis;—­her heart bids you welcome.

Indeed, said she, I am not ungrateful:—­indeed, my Lord, I am not insensible to the obligations you have laid me under.

As these words escap’d her, you must certainly take in the whole countenance of Darcey.

By this time we were seated, and Lady Mary return’d to the company.

Honour’d as I am, said his Lordship, addressing Miss Powis, will you permit me, Madam, in presence of your revered parents,—­in presence of the friend to whom every wish of my heart has been confess’d;—­will you permit me to hope you are not offended by my application to Sir James?—­May I hope for your—­

Friendship, my Lord (reply’d she, interrupting him); you may command my friendship.

Friendship! (retorted he) Miss Powis, starting up:—­is that all I am to expect?—­Can I accept your friendship?—­No, Madam, the man who would have died for you aspires to more than friendship;—­he aspires to your love.

I am no stranger, my Lord, return’d she, to the honour you intend me;—­I am no stranger to your worth;—­but I have scruples;—­scruples that seem to me insurmountable.

I never saw him so affected.

For heaven’s sake, Madam, he answer’d, don’t drive me to despair:—­tear not open the wound which the hand of Mercy has just clos’d:—­my shatter’d frame will not bear another rub from fortune.—­What scruples?—­Tell me, Miss Powis, I conjure you.