Barford Abbey by Susannah Minific Gunning
page 69 of 205 (33%)
page 69 of 205 (33%)
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This he spoke with energy;--such energy,--as if he had come at the book of my heart, and was reading its contents. I knew his regard for my dear amiable girl, and the danger of betraying my secret, or should have treated him with unbounded confidence:--I therefore only applauded his sentiments;--told him a man who could think thus nobly,--honour'd me in his friendship;--that mine to him should be unalterable; call'd him brother; and by the joyful perturbations of my soul, I fear I gave him some idea of what I strove to hide. The curtain of night was dropping by slow degrees, when a distant sound of wheels interrupted our conversation.--We stood listening a moment, as it approach'd nearer. Edmund cry'd out,--They are come; I hear, Caesar's voice; and, taking a hearty leave, ran home to receive them.--I directed my course towards the Abbey, in hopes the chaise had proceeded thither, and found I had steer'd right, seeing it stand at the entrance. Mr. Jenkings did not get out; Lady Powis refused to part with Miss Warley this night. Whilst I write, I hope she is enjoying a sweet refreshing sleep. O! Molesworth! could I flatter myself she dreams of me!-- To-morrow Lord and Lady Allen, Mr. and Mrs. Winter, dine here; consequently Miss Winter, and her _fond_ admirer, Lord Baily.--How often have I laugh'd to see that cooing, billing, pair? It is come home, you'll say, with a vengeance.--Not so neither.--I never intend making such a very fool of myself as Lord Baily.--Pray, Madam, don't sit against that door;--and pray, Madam, don't sit against this window.--I hear you have encreased your cold;--you speak hoarse:--indeed, Madam, you speak hoarse, though you won't confess it.--In this strain has the |
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