Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.
_Barford Abbey_.
BARFORD ABBEY! _Yes_, my dearest Lady,--I date from Barford Abbey: a
house I little thought ever to have seen, when I have listened hours to
a description of it from Mr. Jenkings.--What are houses,--what palaces,
in competition with _that_ honour, _that_ satisfaction, I received by
your Ladyship's last letter!--The honour all must acknowledge;--the
satisfaction is not on the surface,--_it centers in the heart_.--I feel
too much to express any thing.--One moment an orphan; next the adopted
child of Lady Mary Sutton.--What are titles, except ennobled by virtue!
_That_ only makes a coronet fit graceful on the head;--_that_ only is
the true ornament of greatness.
Pardon my disobedience.--Can there be a stronger command than your
request?--But, my Lady, I must have died,--my life _must_ have been the
sacrifice, had I gone to the Lodge.--The windows opposite, the windows
of that little mansion where I spent nineteen happy years with my
angelic benefactress,--could it be borne?--Your Ladyship's absence
too;--what an aggravation;--The young ladies you kindly propose for my
companions, though very amiable, could not have shut my eyes, or
deaden'd my other senses.
Now let me account for being at Barford Abbey.--Was Mr. Jenkings my
father, I think I could not love him more; yet when he press'd me to
return with him to Hampshire, I was doubtful whether to consent, till
your Ladyship's approbation of him was confirmed in so particular a
manner.--His son an only one;--the fine fortune he must possess;--these
were objections not only of _mine_, but, I believe, of my dear,
dear--Oh! my Lady, I cannot yet write her name.--Often has she check'd
Mr. Jenkings, when he has solicited to take me home with him:--her very
looks spoke she had something to fear from such a visit.--She loved
me;--the dear angel loved me with maternal affection, but her partiality
never took place of noble, generous sentiments.--Young people, she has
frequently said, are, by a strict intimacy, endeared to each other.
This, I doubt not, was her motive for keeping me at a distance.--She
well knew my poor expectations were ill suited to his large ones.--I
know what was her opinion, and will steadily adhere to it.
Edmund, to do him common justice, is a desirable youth:--such a one as I
can admire his good qualities, without another with than to imitate
them.--Monday, the tenth, I took my leave of Hillford Down, and, after a
melancholy journey, arrived Tuesday evening at Mr. Jenkings's.--Nothing
did I enjoy on the road;--in spight of my endeavours, tears stream'd
from my eyes incessantly;--even the fine prospects that courted
attention, pass'd unnotic'd.--My good conductor strove to draw me off
from gloomy subjects, but in vain, till we came within a few miles of
his house; then of a sudden I felt a serenity, which, for some time, has
been a stranger to my breast;--a serenity I cannot account for.
_Mrs. Jenkings!_--never shall I forget her humanity. She flew to the
chaise the instant it stopp'd, receiv'd me with open arms, and conducted
me to the parlour, pouring out ten thousand welcomes, intermingled with
fond embraces.--She is, I perceive, one of those worthy creatures, who
make it a point to consider their husbands friends as their own; in my
opinion, the highest mark of conjugal happiness.
Plac'd in a great chair next the fire, every one was busied in something
or other for my refreshment.--One soul,--one voice,--one manner, to be
seen in the father,--mother,--son:--they look not on each other but with
a smile of secret satisfaction. _To me_ their hearts speak the same
expressive language;--their house,--their dress,--their words, plainly
elegant.--Envy never stops at such a dwelling;--nothing there is fit for
her service:--no pomp,--no grandeur,--no ostentation.--I slept sweetly
the whole night;--sweetly!--not one disagreeable idea intruded on my
slumbers.
Coming down in the morning, I found breakfast on the table, linen white
as snow, a large fire,--every thing that speaks cleanliness, content,
and plenty.--The first thing in a house which attracts my notice is the
fire;--I conclude from that, if the hearts of the inhabitants are warm
or cold.--Our conversation was interesting;--it might have lasted, for
aught I know, till dinner, had it not been interrupted by the entrance
of Sir James and Lady Powis.--I knew Mr. Jenkings was their steward, but
never expected they came to his house with such easy freedom.--We arose
as they entered:--I was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings appear
confused;--in my opinion, their visitors accosted them more like
_equals_ than _dependants_.
Your Ladyship cannot imagine how greatly I was prepossessed in their
favour even before they spoke.--In their manner was something that
struck me excessively;--few--very few--can express the nameless beauties
of grace,--never to be seen but in a carriage sweetly humble.
Lady Powis seated herself opposite to me.--We called, said she,
addressing Mr. Jenkings, to inquire what was become of you, fearing your
Oxfordshire friends had stolen you from us;--but you have made up for
your long absence, if this is the young lady, bowing to me, your wife
told us was to return with you.--A politeness so unexpected,--so
deliver'd,--visibly affected me:--I sat silent, listening for the reply
Mr. Jenkings would make.
Pardon me, my Lady! pardon me, Miss Warley! said the good man,--I am a
stranger to punctilio;--I see my error:--I should have acquainted your
Ladyship before with the name of this dear young Lady; I should have
said she is an honour to her friends.--Need I tell Miss Warley, Sir
James and Lady Powis are present:--I hope the deportment of their
_servant_ has confirmed it;--I hope it has.
Sir James kindly took his hand, and, turning to me, said, Don't believe
him, Madam, he is not our servant;--he has been our _friend_ forty
years; we flatter ourselves he deems not _that_ servitude.
Not your _servant!_--not your _dependant!_--not your _servant_, Sir
James!--and was running on when her Ladyship interrupted him.
Don't make me angry, Jenkings;--don't pain me;--hear the favour I have
to ask, and be my advocate:--it is with Miss Warley I want you to be my
advocate.--Then addressing herself to me, Will you, Madam, give me the
pleasure of your company often at the Abbey?--I mean, will you come
there as if it was your home?--Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings have comforts, I
have not,--at least that I can enjoy.--Here she sigh'd deeply;--so deep,
that I declare it pierced through my heart;--I felt as if turn'd into
stone;--what I suppose I was a true emblem of.--The silent friends that
trickled down my cheeks brought me back from that inanimate state,--and
I found myself in the embraces of Lady Powis, tenderly affectionate, as
when in the arms of Mrs. Whitmore.--Judge not, Madam, said I, from my
present stupidity, that I am so wanting in my head or heart, to be
insensible of this undeserv'd goodness.--With Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings's
permission, I am devoted to your Ladyship's service.--_Our_ approbation!
Miss Warley, return'd the former;--_yes, that_ you have:--her Ladyship
cannot conceive how happy she has made us.--Sir James seconded his Lady
with a warmth perfectly condescending:--no excuse would be taken; I must
spend the next day at the Abbey; their coach was to attend me.
Our amiable guests did not move till summoned by the dinner-bell, which
is plainly to be heard there.--I thought I should have shed tears to see
them going.--I long'd to walk part of the way, but was afraid to propose
it, lest I should appear presumptuous.--Her Ladyship perceiv'd my
inclinations,--look'd delighted,--and requested my company; on which Mr.
Jenkings offer'd his service to escort me back.
How was I surpris'd at ascending the hill!--My feet seem'd leading me to
the first garden--the sweet abode of innocence!--Ten thousand beauties
broke on my sight;--ten thousand pleasures, before unknown, danced
through my heart.--Behold me on the summit;--behold me full of
surprise,--full of admiration!--How enchanting the park! how clear the
river that winds through it!--What taste,--what elegance, in the
plantations!--How charmingly are Nature's beauties rang'd by art!--The
trees,--the shrubs,--the flowers,--hold up their heads, as if proud of
the spot they grow on!--Then the noble old structure,--the magnificent
mansion of this ancient family, how does it fire the beholder with
veneration and delight! The very walls seem'd to speak; at least there
was something that inform'd _me_, native dignity, and virtues
hereditary, dwelt within them.
The sight of a chaise and four, standing at the entrance, hurried me
from the charming pair of this paradise, after many good days ecchoed
to me, and thanks respectful return'd them by the same messenger.
Mr. Jenkings, in our return, entertain'd me with an account of the
family for a century past. A few foibles excepted in the character of
Sir James, I find he possesses all the good qualities of his ancestors.
Nothing could be more pleasing than the encomiums bestow'd on Lady
Powis; but she is not exempt from trouble: the _good_ and the _bad_ the
_great_ and the _little_, at some time or other, feel Misfortune's
touch. Happy such a rod hangs over us! Were we to glide on smoothly, our
affections would be fixed here, and here only.
I could love Lady Powis with a warmth not to be express'd;--but--forgive
me, my dear lady--I pine to know why _your_ intimacy was
interrupted.--Of _Lady Mary's_ steadiness and integrity I am
convinc'd;--of _Lady Powis_ I have had only a transitory view.--Heaven
forbid she should be like such people as from my heart I despise, whose
regards are agueish! Appearances promise the reverse;--but what is
appearance? For the generality a mere cheat, a gaudy curtain.
Pardon me, dear Lady Powis--I am distress'd,--I am perplex'd; but I do
not think ill of you;--indeed I cannot,--unless I find--_No_, I cannot
find it neither;--something tells me _Lady Mary_, my dear honour'd Lady
Mary, will acquit you.
We were receiv'd by Mrs. Jenkings, at our return, with a chearful
countenance, and conducted to the dining-parlour, where, during our
comfortable, meal, nothing was talk'd of but Sir James and Lady
Powis:--the kind notice taken of your Fanny mentioned with transport.
Thus honour'd,--thus belov'd,--dare I repine?--Why look on past
enjoyments with such a wistful eye!--Mrs. Whitmore, my dear maternal
Mrs. Whitmore, cannot be recall'd!--Strange perversenss!--why let that
which would give me pleasure fleet away!--why pursue that which I cannot
overtake!--No gratitude to heaven!--Gratitude to you, my dearest Lady,
shall conquer this perverseness;--even now my heart overflows like a
swoln river.
Good night, good night, dear Madam; I am going to repose on the very bed
where, for many years, rested the most deserving of men!--The
housekeeper has been relating many of his virtues;--so many, that I long
to see him, _though only in a dream_.
Was it not before Mr. Powis went abroad, that your ladyship visited at
the Abbey?--Yet, if so, I think I should have heard you mention
him.--Merit like his could never pass unnotic'd in a breast so
similar--Here I drop my pen, lest I grow impertinent.--Once again, good
night,--my more than parent:--to-morrow, at an early hour, I will begin
the recital to your Ladyship of this day's transactions--I go to implore
every blessing on your head, the only return that can be offer'd by