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.
You have none, my dear child, said Mrs. Powis. You have none, Fanny,
said Mr. Powis, but what his Lordship can remove.
Indeed, Sir!--indeed, Madam! replied she, I meant not to give Lord
Darcey pain.--Then turning to him in a tender, soothing accent,--Your
peace, my Lord, has never been lightly regarded by me.--Here he
brighten'd up,--and said, taking her hand, You know not, Miss Powis,
from the first moment I saw you, how ardent,--how steady has been my
love.
Why _then_ my Lord, resum'd she--_why_ endeavour to gain my affections,
yet hide your preference for me from the _world_;--even from
_myself?_--Think of the _day_ Lord Allen dined at the Abbey;--think what
pass'd in a walk preceding _that_ you set out for town:--on both
these,--on many others, how mysterious your conduct?--If you thought me
worthy your regard, my Lord, why _such_ mysteries?
For God's sake, my dear,--dear Miss Powis, said Darcey, suffer me to
vindicate myself.--Pardon me, my Lord (continued the angel that
harangued him) hear me patiently another moment, and I will listen to
your vindication.
She went on.
From whence can I suppose, my Lord, your embarrassments proceeded, if
not from _some_ entanglement grown irksome?--No; before I can promise
_myself_ happiness, I must be first satisfied I do not borrow that
_happiness_ from _another_.
_Another_, Madam! repeated he, throwing himself at her feet:--May all my
brighter prospects fly me;--may my youth be blighted by the loss of
reason if I have ever lov'd _another!_
She was affected with the solemnity of his air: one pearly drop stray'd
down her cheek;--one that escap'd the liquid body of tenderness
assembled in her eyes:--she could not speak, but held out her snowy
hand for him to be seated.
He obey'd; and placing himself next her, so clearly accounted for that
part of his conduct she call'd mysterious, that Mr. and Mrs. Powis both
at once exclaim'd, Now, my dear, complete our felicity;--now all your
_scruples must_ be over.
And do you, said she, my tender, my indulgent parents, rising and
throwing herself into their arms;--do you say it is in _my_ power to
complete your felicity?--_Will_ confessing a preference for Lord
Darcey;--_will_ declaring I wish you to prefer him to your
daughter;--will _that_ complete it?
My friend caught the blushing beauty from the arms of her parents, and,
frantic with joy, folded her to his bosom, standing as if he wonder'd at
his own happiness.
What innocence in the look of Miss Powis, when she greatly acknowledg'd
her heart!--How reverse from _this_ innocence, _this_ greatness, is the
_prudish hypocrite_, who forbids _even_ her features to say she is
susceptible of love! You may suppose a profusion of friendly
acknowledgments fell to _my_ share; but I am not vain enough to repeat
them.
It is well Lady Elizabeth stands portress at the door of my
heart:--there is such bustling and pushing to get in;--but,
notwithstanding her Ladyship's vigilance, Miss Powis has slipp'd by, and
sits perch'd up in the same corner with Darcey.
If you go back to Lady Mary's dressing-room, you will find nobody
_there_:--but give a peep into the dining-parlour, and you will see us
just set down at dinner;--_all_ smiling,--_all_ happy;--an inexhaustible
fountain of pleasure in every breast.
I will go down to Slope Hall;--give Lady Dorothy a hint that she has it
now in her power to make one man happy;--_a hint_ I believe she never
had before.--A snug twenty thousand added to my present fortune,--the
hand of Lady Elizabeth,--and then, Risby, get hold of my skirts, and you
mount with me.
Next Tuesday prepare, as governor of the castle, for a warm
siege.--_Such_ a battery of eyes,--_such_ bundles of darts,--_such_
stores of smiles,--_such_ a train of innocence will be laid before the
walls, as never was withstood!--No; I shall see you _cap-à-pée_ open the
gates to the besiegers.--Away goes my pen.--I write no more positively.