Miss DELVES to Mrs. DELVES.
_Barford Abbey_.
Are you well, Madam? Is my dear father well? Tell me you are, and never
was so happy a creature as your daughter. I tremble with pleasure,--with
joy,--with delight:--but I _must_--my duty, my affection, every thing
says I _must_ sit down to write.--You did not see how we were marshall'd
at setting out:--I wish you could have got up early enough:--never was
there such joyous party!
All in Lady Mary's dining-room by seven;--the fine equipages at the
door;--servants attending in rich new liveries, to the number of
twenty;--Lord Darcey and his heavenly bride that is to be,--smiling on
each other,--smiling on all around;--Lady Mary Sutton--yes, _she_ is
heavenly _too_;--I believe I was the only earthly creature amongst
them;--Lord and Lady Hampstead,--the angelic Ladies Elizabeth and
Sophia,--Mr. Molesworth,--the generous, friendly, open-hearted Mr.
Molesworth,--Lord Hallum.--But why mention him last?--Because, Bessy, I
suppose he was _last_ in your thoughts.--Dear Madam, how can you think
so?
In Lady Mary's coach went her Ladyship, Lord Darcey, Mrs. and Miss
Powis:--in Lord Hampstead's, his Lordship, Lady Hampstead, Lady
Elizabeth, and Mr. Molesworth:--in Lord Darcey's, Lady Sophia, Mr.
Powis, Lord Hallum, and your little _good-for-nothing_:--in Mr. Powis's,
the women-servants.--We lay fifty miles short of the Abbey, and the next
evening reach'd it at seven.
We reach'd Barford Abbey, I say--but what shall I say _now?_--I cannot
do justice to what I have seen of duty,--of affection,--of joy,--of
hospitality.--Do, dear Madam, persuade my father to purchase a house in
_this_ neighbourhood.
Servants were posted at the distance of six miles to carry intelligence
when we should approach.--I suppose in their way back it was proclaim'd
in the village:--men, women, and children, lined the road a mile from
the Abbey, throwing up their hats with loud huzzaing,--bells ringing in
every adjacent parish;--bonfires on every rising ground;--in short, we
were usher'd in like conquerors.--The coachmen whipp'd up their horses
full speed through the park;--thump, thump, went my heart, when by a
number of lights I discover'd we were just at the house.
What sensations did I feel when the carriages stopp'd!--At the entrance
stood Sir James and Lady Powis,--the Chaplain,--Mr. Morgan,--Captain
Risby,--you know their characters, Madam;--every servant in the house
with a light:--but who could have stay'd within at this juncture?
The first coach that drove up was Lady Mary's. Out sprang Lord Darcey,
Miss Powis in his hand; both in a moment lock'd in parental
embraces.--Good heaven, what extasy!--I thought Mr. Watson and Mr.
Morgan would have fought a duel which should first have folded Miss
Powis in his arms, whilst Sir James and Lady Powis quitted her to
welcome Lady Mary.--We were all receiv'd tenderly affectionate:--a
reception none can have an idea of, but those who have been at Barford
Abbey.
In my way to the house, I suppose I had a hundred kisses:--_God knows
from whom_.--What can I say of Lord Hampstead's family?--what of Mr.
Molesworth?--The general notice taken of him is sufficient.--Absolutely
that charming man will be spoil'd.--Pity to set him up for an idol!--I
hope he will not _always_ expect to be worshipp'd--Mr. Risby
_too_--Well, I'll mention you all, one after another, as fast as
possible.--Let me see, where did I leave off?--Oh! we were just out of
our carriages.--And now for the pathetics:--an attempt;--a humble
attempt only.
Lady Powis, Lady Mary, and their darling, had given us the slip.--What
could be done?--I mean with Mr. Morgan:--he was quite outrageous.--What
could be done? I repeat.--Why Sir James, to pacify him, said, we should
all go and surprize them in his Lady's dressing-room.--We did go;--we
did surprize them;--great God! in what an attitude!--The exalted Lady
Powis at the feet of Lady Mary;--Miss Powis kneeling by her;--she
endeavouring to raise them.--I said it would be an attempt at the
pathetics;--it must be an attempt:--I can proceed no farther.
To be sure, Mr. Morgan is a queer-looking man, but a great favourite at
the Abbey.--He took Miss Powis on his knee;--call'd her a hundred times
his dear, dear daughter;--and I could not forbear laughing, when he told
her he had not wore a tye-wig before these twenty years. This drew me to
observe his dress, which, unless you knew the man, you can have no idea
how well it suited him:--a dark snuff-colour'd coat with gold buttons,
which I suppose by the fashion of it, was made when he accustomed
himself to _tye-wigs_;--the lace a rich orrice; but then it was so
immoderately short, both in the sleeves and skirts, that whilst full
dress'd he appeared to want cloathing.
The _next_ morning,--ay, the _next_ morning, then it was I lost my
freedom.--Disrob'd of his gingerbread coat, I absolutely sell a
sacrifice to a plain suit of broad cloth,--or rather, to a noble, plain
heart.--Now pray, dear Madam, do not cross me in my _first_ love;--at
least, _see_ Mr. Morgan, before you command me to give him up:--and you,
sweet Sir, steal to a corner of your new possession, whilst I take
notice of those who are capering to my fingers ends.
You have seen Miss Powis, Madam, on Mr. Morgan's knee;--you have heard
him say enough to fill any other girl than myself with jealousy:--nay,
Madam, you may smile;--he really makes love to me.--But for a moment let
me forget my lover;--let me forget his _melting_ sighs,--his _tender_
protections,--his _persuasive_ eloquence,--his air _so_
languishing:--let me forget them _all_, I say, and lead you to the
library, where by a message flew Miss Powis.--A look from her drew me
after:--I suppose Lord Darcey had a touch from the same magnet.
A venerable pair with joy next to phrenzy caught her in their extended
arms, as the door open'd. My _kind_, my dear, _ever_ dear friends, said
the lovely creature,--and is it _thus_ we meet? is it _thus_ I return to
you?--Mr. Jenkings clasp'd her to him; but his utterance was quite
choak'd:--the old Lady burst into a flood of tears, and then cried
out,--How great is thy mercy, O God!--Suffer me to be grateful.--Again
she flew to their arms;--again they folded her to their bosoms.--Lord
Darcey too embrac'd them;--he condescendingly kiss'd their hands;--he
said, next to the parents of his Fanny,--next to Lady Mary, they were
most dear to him.--Miss Powis seated herself between them, and hung
about the neck of Mrs. Jenkings;--whilst his Lordship, full of
admiration, look'd as if his great soul labour'd for expression.--
Overcome with tender scenes, I left the library.--I acquainted Lady Mary
who was there, and she went to them immediately.--Mr. Watson and Mr.
Morgan for a quarter of an hour were all my own;--captain Risby, Mr.
Molesworth, Lady Elizabeth and Sophia, being engag'd in a conversation
at another part of the room:--you may _guess_ our subject, Madam;--but I
declare, whilst listening to Mr. Watson, I thought myself soaring above
earthly enjoyments.--
Sir James, who had follow'd Lady Mary, soon return'd with her Ladyship,
Miss Powis, Lord Darcey, and, what gave me heart-felt pleasure, the
steward and his wife;--an honour they with difficulty accepted, as they
were strangers to Lord Hampstead's family.--
Who says there is not in this life perfect happiness?--I say they are
mistaken:--such felicity as I here see and partake of, cannot be call'd
imperfect--How comes it that the domestics of _this_ family _so_ much
surpass those of _other_ people?--how is it _one_ interest governs the
whole?--I want to know a thousand mysteries.--I could write,--I could
think eternally,--of the first happy evening.--First happy evening do I
say? And can the days that crown that eve be forgot?--Heaven forbid! at
least whilst I have recollection.--My heart speaks so fast to my pen,
that fain my fingers would,--but cannot keep up with it.
The next morning Lord Darcey introduc'd to us the son of Mr.
Jenkings.--A finer youth I never saw!--Well might the old gentleman be
_suspicious_.--Few fathers would, like _him_, have sacrificed the
interest of a son, to preserve that of a friend.--To know the real rank
of Miss Powis;--her ten thousand virtues;--her great expectations; yet
act with so _much_ caution!--with an anxiety which the most sordid miser
watching his treasure, could not have exceeded! and for _what?_--Why
lest involuntarily she might enrich his belov'd son with _her_
affections.--Will you part with me to this extraordinary man?--Only for
an hour or two.--A walk is propos'd.--Our ramble will not be farther
than his house.--You say I may go. Thank you, Madam: I am gone.
Just return'd from the steward's, so cramm'd with sweet-meats, cake, and
jellies, that I am absolutely stupified.
I must tell you who led Miss Powis.--Lord Darcey, to be sure.--No,
Madam; I had the favour of his Lordship's arm:--it was Edmund.--I call
him Edmund;--every body calls him Edmund;--_yes_, and at Lord Darcey's
request _too_.--Never shall I forget in what a graceful manner!--But his
Lordship does every thing with grace.--He mention'd something of past
times, hinting he should not always have courted him to _such_ honour,
presenting the hand of his belov'd.
I wish I could send you her look at that moment; it was all love,--all
condescension.--I say I cannot send it.--Mortifying! I cannot even
borrow _it_.
Adieu, dear Madam!--Adieu, dear Sir!--Adieu, you best of parents--It is
impossible to say which is most dear to your ever dutiful and
affectionate