has kept his resolution, and does not marry her too.'

Whilst this game was being played out, one of Walpole's most valued
neighbours, Pope, was dying of dropsy, and every evening a gentle
delirium possessed him. Again does Horace return to the theme, ever in
his thoughts--the Carterets: again does he recount their triumphs and
their follies.

'I will not fail'--still to Horace Mann--'to make your compliments to
the Pomfrets and Carterets. I see them seldom but I am in favour; so I
conclude, for my Lady Pomfret told me the other night that I said better
things than anybody. I was with them all at a subscription ball at
Ranelagh last week, which my Lady Carteret thought proper to look upon
as given to her, and thanked the gentlemen, who were not quite so well
pleased at her condescending to take it to herself. I did the honours of
all her dress. "How charming your ladyship's cross is! I am sure the
design was your own!"--"No, indeed; my lord sent it me just as it is."
Then as much to the mother. Do you wonder I say better things than
anybody?'

But these brilliant scenes were soon mournfully ended. Lady Sophia, the
haughty, the idolized, the Juno of that gay circle, was suddenly carried
off by a fever. With real feeling Horace thus tells the tale:--

'Before I talk of any public news, I must tell you what you will be very
sorry for. Lady Granville (Lady Sophia Fermor) is dead. She had a fever
for six weeks before her lying-in, and could never get it off. Last
Saturday they called in another physician, Dr. Oliver. On Monday he
pronounced her out of danger; about seven in the evening, as Lady
Pomfret and Lady Charlotte (Fermor) were sitting by her, the first