Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.
_From the Crown, at ----_.
Here am I, ever-honour'd lady, forty miles on the road to that beloved
spot, where, for nineteen years, my tranquility was uninterrupted.--Will
a serene sky always hang over me?--It will be presumption to suppose
it,--when thousands, perhaps, endowed with virtues the most god-like,
have nothing on which they can look _back_ but dark clouds,--nothing to
which they can look _forward_ but gathering storms.--Am I a bark only
fit to sail in fair weather?--Shall I not prepare to meet the waves of
disappointment?
How does my heart bear,--how throb,--to give up follies which dare not
hide themselves where a passage is made _by_ generosity, _by_ affection
unbounded.--Yes, my dear Lady, this is the only moment I do not regret
being absent from you;--for could my tongue relate what my pen trembles
to discover?--No!
Behold _me_ at your Ladyship's feet!--behold _me_ a supplicant suing for
my returning peace!--_You_ only, can restore it.--Command that I give up
my preference for Lord Darcey, and the intruder is banished from my
heart:--_then_ shall I no more labour to deceive myself:--_then_ shall I
no more blindly exchange certain peace for doubtful happiness,--a
_quiet_ for a _restless_ mind.--Humility has not fled me;--my heart has
not fallen a sacrifice to title, pomp, or splendor.--Yet, has it not
foolishly, unasked, given itself up?--Ah! my Lady, not entirely unask'd
neither; or, why, from the first moment, have I seen him shew _such_
tender, _such_ respectful assiduities?--why _so_ ardently solicit to
attend me into Oxfordshire?--why ask, if I refused my hand in the same
peremptory manner, what would become of the man who without it was lost
to the whole world?--But am I not too vain?--Why should this man be Lord
Darcey?--Rather one rising to his imagination, who he might possibly
suppose was entrapped by my girlish years.--A few, a very _few_ weeks,
and I am gone from him forever.--If your Ladyship's goodness can pardon
the confession I have made, no errors will I again commit of the kind
which now lies blushing before you.
Next to your Ladyship Mr. Jenkings is the best friend I have on
earth.--He _never_ has suspected, or _now_ quite forgets his
suspicions.--Not all my entreaties could prevent him from taking this
long journey with me.--His age, his connections, his business, every
thing is made subservient to my convenience--Whilst I write he is below,
and has just sent up to know if I will permit a gentleman of his
acquaintance, whom he has met accidentally at this inn, to dine with
us.--Why does he use this ceremony?--I can have no objection to any
friend of _his_.--Dinner is served up.--I shall write again at our last
stage this evening.
_From the Mitre at ----_.
Past twelve at night!--An hour I used to think the most silent of
any:--but _here_ so much the reverse, one reasonably may suppose the
inhabitants, or guests, have mistaken midnight for mid-day.