I find Miss Streatfield a very amiable girl, and extremely handsome; not
so wise as I expected, but very well; however, had she not chanced
to have had so uncommon an education, with respect to literature or
learning, I believe she would not have made her way among the wits by
the force of her natural parts.
Mr. Seward, you know, told me that she had tears at command, and I begin
to think so too, for when Mrs. Thrale, who had previously told me I
should see her cry, began coaxing her to stay, and saying, “If you go, I
shall know you don't love me so well as Lady Gresham,”--she did cry, not
loud indeed, nor much, but the tears came into her eyes, and rolled down
her fine cheeks.
“Come hither, Miss Burney,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “come and see Miss
Streatfield cry!”
I thought it a mere badinage. I went to them, but when I saw real
tears, I was shocked, and saying “No, I won't look at her,” ran away
frightened, lest she should think I laughed at her, which Mrs. Thrale
did so openly, that, as I told her, had she served me so, I should have
been affronted with her ever after.
Miss Streatfield, however, whether from a sweetness not to be ruffled,
or from not perceiving there was any room for taking offence, gently
wiped her eyes, and was perfectly composed!