_July 20._--This morning the queen enquired of me if I loved walking?
I answered yes; and she then told me I had better not leave off that
exercise, but walk out every morning.
I called at my dear Mrs. Delany's, and took Miss Port with me. We went
together to Lady Louisa Clayton. We next went to Lady Charlotte Finch,
who is one of her sisters, and governess to the princesses.
I called also at Madame de la Fite's; but she was so urgent with me
to prolong my stay, that I returned too late to dress for my noon
attendance, and just as I was in the midst of my hair dishevelling, I
was summoned.
I was obliged to slip on my morning gown, and a large morning cap, and
run away as fast as possible. The queen, who was only preparing for her
own hair-dresser, was already en peignoir: she sat down, the man was
called in, and then, looking at me with a smile, she said “Now, Miss
Burney, you may go and finish your dress.”
Away I gallopped as fast as possible, to be ready against her
hair-dresser departed: but when I came pretty near my own apartment, I
was stopped in the gallery by a lady, who coming up to me, said “Miss
Burney?”
I started and looked at her; but finding her a perfect stranger to me, I
only said “Ma'am!”--and my accent of surprise made her beg my pardon and
walk on. I was too much in haste to desire any explanation, and was only
quickening my pace, when I was again stopped by a gentleman with a star
and red ribbon, who, bowing very civilly, said “Miss Burney, I presume?”
“Sir!--” was again all my answer and again, like the lady, he begged
my pardon, and retreated and I was too seriously earnest to pursue my
business to dare lose a moment. On, therefore, I again hurried; but, at
the very door of my room, which is three steps down and three up place
out of the even line of the gallery, I was once more stopped, by a very
fat lady: who, coming up to me, also said “Miss Burney, I believe?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“We have just,” cried she, “been to wait upon you,--but I could find
nobody to introduce me; I believe I must introduce myself,--Lady
Effingham.”
I thanked her for the honour she did me,--but when she proposed
returning with me to my room, in order to finish her visit, I was quite
disconcerted; and hesitated so much that she said “Perhaps it is not
convenient to you?--”
“Ma'am--I--I was just going to dress--” cried I; I meant to add, and
ought to have added, to “wait upon the queen,” but I was so unused to
such a plea, that it sounded as a liberty to my mind's voice, and I
could not get it out.
She desired she might be no impediment to me,--and we parted I was
forced to let her go and to run into my own room, and fly--to my
toilette Not quite the sort of flight I have been used to making.
However, all is so new here that it makes but a part in the general
change of system.
The lady who had met me first was her daughter, Lady Frances Howard; and
the gentleman, her second husband, Sir George Howard.
I afterwards saw her ladyship in the queen's dressing-room, where her
majesty sent for her as soon as she was dressed, and very graciously
kept me some time, addressing me frequently while I stayed, in the
conversation that took place, as if with a sweet view to point out to
this first lady of her bedchamber I have yet seen, the favourable light
in which she considers me.