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BARFORD ABBEY,
A NOVEL:
IN A
SERIES of LETTERS.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
LONDON:
Printed for T. CADELL, in the Strand; and J. PAYNE, in Pasternoster-Row.
BARFORD ABBEY.
Lady MARY SUTTON, at the German Spaw, to Miss WARLEY, in England.
How distressing, how heart-rending, is my dear Fanny's mournful detail!--It lies before me; I weep over it!--I weep not for the departed saint: no; it is for you, myself, for all who have experienced her god-like virtues!--Was she not an honour to her sex? Did she not merit rewards too great for this world to bestow?--Could the world repay her innocence, her piety, her resignation? Wipe away, my best love, the mark of sorrow from your cheek. Perhaps she may be permitted to look down: if so, will she smile on those that grieve at her entering into the fullness of joy?--Here a sudden death cannot be called dreadful. A life like hers wanted not the admonitions of a sick-bed;--her bosom accounts always clear, always ready for inspection, day by day were they held up to the throne of mercy.--Apply those beautiful lines in the Spectator to her; lines you have so often admir'd.--How silent thy passage; how private thy journey; how glorious thy end! Many have I known more famous, some more knowing, not one so innocent.--Hope is a noble support to the drooping head of sorrow.--Though a deceiver, court her, I counsel you;--she leads to happiness;--we shall bless her deceptions:--baffling our enjoyments here, she teaches us to look up where every thing is permanent, even bliss most exquisite.
Mr. Whitmore you never knew, otherwise would have wonder'd how his amiable wife loiter'd so long behind.--Often she has wish'd to be reunited to him, but ever avoided the subject in your presence.
Lay aside, I conjure you, your fears of crossing the sea.--Mr. and Mrs. Smith intend spending part of this winter at Montpelier: trust yourself with them; I shall be there to receive you at the H?tel de Spence.
The season for the Spaw is almost at an end. My physicians forbid my return to England till next autumn, else I would fly to comfort,--to console my dearest Fanny,--We shall be happy together in France:--I can love you the same in all places.
My banker has orders to remit you three hundred pounds;--but your power is unlimited; it is impossible to say, my dear, how much I am in your debt.--I have wrote my housekeeper to get every thing ready for your reception:--consider her, and all my other servants, as your own.--I shall be much disappointed if you do not move to the Lodge immediately.--You shall not,--must not,--continue in a house where every thing in and about it reminds you of so great a loss.--Miss West, Miss Gardner, Miss Conway, will, at my request, accompany you thither.--The Menagerie,--plantations, and other places of amusement, will naturally draw them out;--you will follow mechanically, and by that means be kept from indulging melancholy.--Go an-airing every day, unless you intend I shall find my horses unfit for service:--why have you let them live so long idle?
I revere honest Jenkings--he is faithful,--he will assist you with his advice on all occasions.--Can there be a better resource to fly to, than a heart governed by principles of honour and humanity?
Write, my dear, to Mrs. Smith, and let me know if the time is fixed for their coming over.--Say you will comply with the request my heart is so much set on;--say you will be one of the party.
Your truly affectionate,
M. SUTTON.
Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.
Edmund, to do him common justice, is a desirable youth:--such a one as I can admire his good qualities, without another with than to imitate them.--Monday, the tenth, I took my leave of Hillford Down, and, after a melancholy journey, arrived Tuesday evening at Mr. Jenkings's.--Nothing did I enjoy on the road;--in spight of my endeavours, tears stream'd from my eyes incessantly;--even the fine prospects that courted attention, pass'd unnotic'd.--My good conductor strove to draw me off from gloomy subjects, but in vain, till we came within a few miles of his house; then of a sudden I felt a serenity, which, for some time, has been a stranger to my breast;--a serenity I cannot account for.
Your Ladyship cannot imagine how greatly I was prepossessed in their favour even before they spoke.--In their manner was something that struck me excessively;--few--very few--can express the nameless beauties of grace,--never to be seen but in a carriage sweetly humble.
Lady Powis seated herself opposite to me.--We called, said she, addressing Mr. Jenkings, to inquire what was become of you, fearing your Oxfordshire friends had stolen you from us;--but you have made up for your long absence, if this is the young lady, bowing to me, your wife told us was to return with you.--A politeness so unexpected,--so deliver'd,--visibly affected me:--I sat silent, listening for the reply Mr. Jenkings would make.
Our amiable guests did not move till summoned by the dinner-bell, which is plainly to be heard there.--I thought I should have shed tears to see them going.--I long'd to walk part of the way, but was afraid to propose it, lest I should appear presumptuous.--Her Ladyship perceiv'd my inclinations,--look'd delighted,--and requested my company; on which Mr. Jenkings offer'd his service to escort me back.
The sight of a chaise and four, standing at the entrance, hurried me from the charming pair of this paradise, after many good days ecchoed to me, and thanks respectful return'd them by the same messenger.
We were receiv'd by Mrs. Jenkings, at our return, with a chearful countenance, and conducted to the dining-parlour, where, during our comfortable, meal, nothing was talk'd of but Sir James and Lady Powis:--the kind notice taken of your Fanny mentioned with transport.
Thus honour'd,--thus belov'd,--dare I repine?--Why look on past enjoyments with such a wistful eye!--Mrs. Whitmore, my dear maternal Mrs. Whitmore, cannot be recall'd!--Strange perversenss!--why let that which would give me pleasure fleet away!--why pursue that which I cannot overtake!--No gratitude to heaven!--Gratitude to you, my dearest Lady, shall conquer this perverseness;--even now my heart overflows like a swoln river.
Was it not before Mr. Powis went abroad, that your ladyship visited at the Abbey?--Yet, if so, I think I should have heard you mention him.--Merit like his could never pass unnotic'd in a breast so similar--Here I drop my pen, lest I grow impertinent.--Once again, good night,--my more than parent:--to-morrow, at an early hour, I will begin the recital to your Ladyship of this day's transactions--I go to implore every blessing on your head, the only return that can be offer'd by
F. WARLEY.
Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON, in continuation.
I think I have told your Ladyship, I was to be honour'd with the coach to convey me to the Abbey.--About half an hour after one it arriv'd, when a card was deliver'd me from Lady Powis, to desire my friends would not be uneasy, if I did not return early in the evening, as she hop'd for an agreeable party at whist, Lord Darcey being at the Abbey.
Angry with you, Sir!--angry with you, Mr. Jenkings!--is it possible!
Coming within sight of the Abbey, my heart beat as if breaking from confinement.--I was oblig'd to call it to a severe trial,--to ask, Why this insurrection,--whence these tumults?--My monitor reply'd, Beware of self-sufficiency,--beware of its mortifying consequences.--
What could occasion her confusion!--what could occasion the confusion of Sir James!--Never did I see any thing equal it, when I said it was Lady Mary Sutton!--The significant looks that were interchang'd, spoke some mystery;--a mystery it would be presumption in me to dive after. Her Ladyship made no reply,--Sir James was eager to vary the subject,--and the conversation became general.
Mr. Jenkings is this moment coming up the lawn. I see him from window;--excuse me, my dear Lady, whilst I step to ask him how he does.
Lady Powis sent to desire I would come to her dressing room; and, embracing me as I entered, said, with, an air of charming freedom, If you are not hurt, my dear, by our little excursion, I shall be quite in spirits this evening.
Sir James laugh'd aloud; so did her Ladyship:--I was inclin'd to do the same,--but afraid what next he would say;--However, this caution did not screen me from particular notice.
What the duce have I here! said he, taking one of my hands,--a snow-ball by the colour, and feeling? and down he dropp'd it by the side of Lord Darcey's, which rested on the table.
I was never more confounded.
My attention was frequently taken from the cards, to observe how it was possible such opposites as Mr. Watson and Mr. Morgan cou'd be entertain'd by one another's conversation.--Never saw I any two seemingly more happy!--The chearfulness of the former augmented;--the voice of the latter at least three notes lower.--This has been since explain'd to me by Lady Powis.--Mr. Morgan, she says, notwithstanding his rough appearance, is of a nature so compassionate, that, to people defective in person or fortune, he is the gentlest creature breathing.
Our party broke up at nine.--I sat half an hour after supper, then propos'd returning to Mr. Jenkings's.--Lady Powis would not hear me on this subject--I must stay that night at the Abbey:--venturing out such weather would hazard my health.--So said Sir James; so said Lord Darcey.--As for Mr. Morgan, he swore, Was he the former, his horses should not stir out for fifty pieces, unless, said he, Sir James chooses to be a fellow-sufferer with Lord Allen, who I have led such a chace this day, that he was forced to leave poor Snip on the forest.--Saying which, he threw himself back in the chair, and fell into a sound sleep.--About eleven I retir'd to my chamber;--a message first being sent to Mr. Jenkings.--Instead of going immediately to bed, I sat down and indulg'd myself with the satisfaction of writing to my beloved Lady Mary.--This morning I got up early to finish my packet; and though I have spent half an hour with Mr. Jenkings, shall close it before her Ladyship is stirring.
Your commands, my dear Lady, are executed.--I have wrote Mrs. Smith; and as soon as I receive her answer, shall, with a joyful heart, with impatient fondness, prepare to throw at your Ladyship's feet,
Your much honour'd,
and affectionate,
F. WARLEY.
Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.
Who is Miss Warley?--What is Miss Warley?--you ask.--To your first question I can only answer, A visitor at Jenkings's.--To the second,--She is what has been so much sought after in every age, perfect harmony of mind and person.--Such a hand, George--
Already have I been here eight days:--was I to measure time, I should call them hours.--My affairs with Sir James will take up longer in settling than I apprehended.--Come therefore this week or the next, I charge you.--Come as you hope to see Miss Warley. What do you think Sir James said to me the other day?--Was Miss Warley a girl of fortune, I should think her born for you, Darcey.--As that is not the case,--take care of your heart, my Lord.--She will never attempt to drag you into scrapes:--your little favourite robin, that us'd to peck from your hand, has not less guile.
Twelve o'clock, at night.
Our fair visitor just gone;--just gone home with Edmund.--What an officious fool, to take him in the carriage, and prevent myself from a pleasure I envy him for.--I am not in spirits;--I can write no more;--perhaps the next post:--but I will promise nothing.
DARCEY.
The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to LORD DARCEY.
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