“She will write. She told me, just now, she had made no vow against It.”
“No, no,” cried the queen, “I hope not, indeed.”
“A vow!” cried dear Mrs. Delany, “no, indeed, I hope she would not be so
wicked--she who can so do what she does!”
“But she has not,” said the king, earnestly; “she has owned that to me
already.”
What excessive condescension, my dear padre!
“I only wish,” cried Mrs. Delany, “it could be as easily done, as it is
earnestly and universally desired.”
“I doubt it not to be so desired,” said the queen.
I was quite ashamed of all this, and quite sorry to make no
acknowledgment of their great condescension in pressing such subject,
and pressing it so much in earnest. But I really could get out nothing,
so that's the truth; and I wish I could give a better account of my
eloquence, my dear padre and I cannot, however, in justice any more than
in inclination, go on, till I stop to admire the sweetness of the queen,
and the consideration of the king, in each making me a party in their
general conversation, before they made any particular address to me.