Barford Abbey | Page 9

shine at Faulcon Park;--without it all
will be dreary:--yet how can I draw it thither?--_Edmund_--but why
should I fear _Edmund?_
Will you, or will you not, meet your old friend Finch here next
Wednesday?--Be determined in your answer.--I have suspence enough
on my hands to be excused from any on your account.--Sir James
thinks it unkind you have not called on him since I left
England;--hasten therefore to make up matters with the baronet,--Need
I say the pleasure I shall have in shaking you by the hand?
DARCEY.

LETTER VII.
The Hon. GEORGE MOLESWORTH to Lord DARCEY.
Bath.
Wednesday next you shall see me,--positively you shall.--Bridgman
will be of the party.
I propose an immensity of satisfaction from this visit.--Forbid it,
heaven! Miss Warley's opposite should again give me a meeting at the

Abbey.--After the conversation I am made to expect, how should I be
mortified to have my ears eternally dinn'd with catgut work,--painting
gauze,--weaving fringes,--and finding out enigmas?--Setting a fine face,
Miss Winter is out-done by Fletcher's Nancy.--A-propos, I yesterday
saw that very wise girl step into a chaise and wheel off for Scotland,
begging and praying we would make the best of it to her mamma.--Not
the least hand had I in this affair; but, willing to help out people in
distress, at the entreaties of Lord Michell, I waited on the old Lady at
her lodging.
I found her in a furious plight,--raving at her servants,--packing up her
cloaths, and reflecting on her relations who had persuaded her to come
to Bath.--When I entered she was kneeling by a huge travelling trunk,
stuffing in a green purse at one corner, which I supposed to be full of
gold.
Where is Nancy?--riling from the ground, and accosting me with looks
of fury;--Where is Nancy, Mr. Molesworth?
Really, Madam, that is a question I cannot positively answer;--but, to
be sincere, I believe she is on the road to Scotland.
_Believe!_--So you would have me think you are not one of Fletcher's
clan.--But, tell him from me, running to the trunk after her purse, and
shaking it just at my ear,--tell him, he shall never be a penny the better
for this.
I took my hat, and looked towards the door, as if going.
Stop, Mr. Molesworth, (her voice somewhat lowered) why in so great a
hurry?--I once thought you my friend. Pray inform me if Nancy was
forced away;--or, if me went willingly.
You have no right, Madam, after the treatment I have received, to
expect an answer; but justice bids me declare her going off seemed a
matter of choice.
Poor child!--You was certainly trapann'd (and she put a handkerchief to

her eyes).
I solemnly protest, Madam, I have seen your daughter but twice since
she came to Bath.--Last night, when coming from the Rooms, I saw her
step into a chaise, followed by Mr. Fletcher.--They beckoned me
towards them, whispered the expedition they were going upon, and
requested me to break the matter to you, and intercede for their
pardon.--My visit has not answered its salutary purpose--I perceive it
has not. So saying I turned from her,--knowing, by old acquaintance,
how I was to play my cards, me being one of those kind of spirits
which are never quell'd but by opposition.
After fetching me from the door, she promised to hear calmly what I
had to say;--and, tho' no orator, I succeeded so well as to gain an
assurance, she would see them at their return from Scotland.
I left the old Lady in tolerable good humour, and was smiling to myself,
recollecting the bout I had passed, when, who should come towards me
but Lord Michell,--his countenance full-fraught with curiosity.
Well, George!--dear George!--what success in your embassy?--I long to
know the fate of honest Fletcher.--Is he to loll in a coach and six?--or,
is the coroner's inquest to bring in their verdict Lunacy?
A sweet alternative!--As your Lordship's assiduity has shewn the
former is the highest pinnacle to which you would wish to lift a friend,
I believe your most sanguine hopes are here answered.
Is it _so!_--Well, if ever Fletcher offers up a prayer, it ought to be for
you, Molesworth.
Vastly good, my Lord.--What, before he prays for himself?--This shews
your Lordship's very high notions of gratitude.
We have high notions of every thing.--Bucks and bloods, as we are
call'd,--you may go to the devil before you will find a set of honester
fellows.

To the Devil, my Lord!--That's true, I believe.
He was going to reply when the three choice spirits came up, and
hurried him, away to the Tuns.
A word to you, Darcey.--Surely you are never serious in the ridiculous
design.--Not offer yourself to Miss Warley, whilst she continues in that
neighbourhood?--the very spot on which you ought to secure
her,--unless