MOLESWORTH.




LETTER XII.

Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.

_Barford Abbey_.


I should be in a fine plight, truly, to let her go to France without
me!--Why, I am almost besides myself at the thoughts of an eight days
separation.--Was ever any thing so forgetful!--To bring no other cloaths
here but mourning!--Did she always intend to encircle the sun with a
sable cloud?--Or, why not dispatch a servant?--A journey into
Oxfordshire is absolutely necessary.--Some _other_ business, I suppose;
but I am not enough in her confidence to know of what nature.--Poh!
love!--Impossible, and refuse me so small a boon as to attend
her!--requested too in a manner that spoke my whole soul.--Yes; I had
near broke through all my resolutions.--This I did say, If Miss Warley
refuses her dear hand, pressing it to my lips, in the same peremptory
manner,--what will become of him who without it is lost to the whole
world?--The reply ventur'd no further than her cheek;--there sat
enthron'd in robes of crimson.--I scarce dar'd to look up:--her eyes
darted forth a ray so powerful, that I not only quitted her hand, but
suffered her to leave the room without my saying another word.--This
happened at Jenkings's last evening; in the morning she was to set out