indeed, I was sat down as sober sedate as could be.–Quite fit for a Dean’s Lady?–Yes;–quite fit, indeed.–Now comes Lady Elizabeth and Lady Sophia.–Well, it is impossible, I find, to be dutiful in this house.
Thursday, twelve o’clock at noon.
Bless my soul! one would think I was the bride by my shaking and quaking! Miss Powis is–Lady Darcey.–Down drops my letter:–Yes, dear Madam, I see you drop it to run and tell my father.
I may write on _now_;–I may do what I will;–Lord and Lady Darcey are _every_ thing with _every_ body Well as I love them, I was not present at the ceremony:–I don’t know why neither.–Not a soul but attended, except your poor foolish girl–At the window I stood to see them go, and never stirr’d a step ’till they return’d.–Mr. Molesworth gave her away.–I vow I thought near as handsome as the bridegroom.–But what signifies my thinking him handsome?–I’ll ask Lady Elizabeth by and bye what she thinks.–Now for a little about it, before I ature myself with implements of destruction.–The Dean is not quite dead yet; but if he live out this day,–I say, he is invulnerable.
Let us hear no more of yourself:–tell us of Lord and Lady Darcey
Have patience, Madam, and I will,
Well, _their_ dress?–Why _their_ faces were dress’d in smiles of love:–Nature’s charms should always take place of art.–You see with what order I proceed.
Lord Darcey was dress’d in white richly lac’d with gold;–Lady Darcey in a white lutestring negligee nounc’d deep with a silver net;–no cap, a diamond sprig; her hair without powder; a diamond necklace and sleeve-knots;–bracelets set round with diamonds; and let me tell you, her jewels are a present from my first Adorable;–on the knowledge of which I discarded him.–No, no, Mr. Morgan; you are not a _jewel_ of yourself neither.–Lady Darcey would have wore quite a morning dishabille, if the vain old Gentleman had not requested the contrary:–so forsooth, to humour him, we must be all put out of our way.
There they are on the lawn, as I hope to live, going to invite in Caesar.–Only an old dog, Madam, that lives betwixt this house and the steward’s.
Lady Elizabeth and Mr. Molesworth, Lady Sophia and Captain Risby,–Oh, I long to be with you!–throw no more gravel to my window.–I _will_ be dutiful;–in spite of your allurements, I _will_.
I left them in the library, inspecting a very charming piece, just brought from Brandon Lodge, done by the hand of Lady Mary Sutton.–Upon my word, they have soon conn’d it over:–but I have not told you it is the portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Powis;–my dear Dean too joining their hands.–
God defend me! there he is, hopping out.–I wish he had kept within.–Why, Sir, I should have been down in a moment: then we might have had the most comfortable tete-a-tete.
Seriously, Madam–now I am _really_ serious–can you believe, after beholding Lord and Lady Darcey, I will ever be content with a moderate share of happiness?–No, I will die first.–To see them at this instant would be an antidote for indifference.–Not any thing of foolish fondness:–no; that will never be seen in Lord and Lady Darcey.–Their happiness is not confin’d:–we are all refreshed by it:–it pours forth from their homes like streams flowing from a pure terrain.–I think I said I could not go to church:–no, not for the world would I have gone:–I expected Miss Powis would be crying, fainting, and I know not what.–Instead of all this fuss, not a tear was shed.–I thought every body cried when they were married:–those that _had_, or had _not_ cause.–Well, I am determin’d to appear satisfied, however, if the yoke is a little galling.
How charming look’d Miss Powis, when she smil’d on Lord Darcey!–On Lord Darcey? On every body I mean.–And for him–But I must forget his air,–his words,–his looks, if ever I intend to say love, honour, and obey.–Once I am brought to say love,–honour and obey will slide off glibly enough. I must go down amongst them. Believe me, Madam, I shut myself up to write against intreaties,–against the most persuasive eloquence.
This is the day when the Powis family are crown’d with felicity.–I think on it with rapture.–I will set it down on the heart of your dutiful and affectionate
E. Delves.
LETTER XLV.
Miss Delves to the same.
_Barford Abbey_
Surely I must smell of venison,–roast beef, and plumb-puddings.–Yes, I smell of the Old English hospitality.–_You_, Madam, have no tenants to regale so;–are safe from such troubles on my account.–Will you believe me, Madam, I had rather see their honest old faces than go to the finest opera ever exhibited.–What think you of a hundred-and-seven chearful farmers sitting at long tables spread with every thing the season can afford;–two hogsheads of wine at their elbows;–the servants waiting on them with assiduous respect:–Their songs still echo in my ears.
I thought the roof would have come down, when Lord and Lady Darcey made their appearance.–Some sung one tune,–some another;–some paid extempore congratulations;–others that had not a genius, made use of ballads compos’d on the marriage of the King and Queen.–One poor old soul cried to the Butler, because he could neither sing or repeat a verse.–Seeing his distress, I went to him, and repeated a few lines applicable to the occasion, which he caught in a moment, and tun’d away with the best of them.
Lord and Lady Hampstead are so delighted with the honest rustics, that they declare every Christmas their tenants shall be regal’d at Hallum Grove.
What can one feel equal to the satisfaction which arises on looking out in the park?–Three hundred poor are there feasting under a shed erected for the purpose;–cloath’d by Sir James and Lady Powis;–_so_ clean,–_so_ warm,–_so_ comfortable, that to see them at this moment, one would suppose they had never tasted of poverty.
Lord Darcey has order’d two hundred guineas to be given amongst them,–that to-morrow might not be less welcome to them than this day.
For my part, I have only two to provide for out of the number;–a pretty little boy and girl, that pick’d me up before I came to the shed.–The parents of those children were very good, and gave them to me on my first application.
Here comes Mrs. Jenkings.–_Well_, what pleasing thing have you to tell me, Mrs. Jenkings?
Five hundred pounds, as I live, to be given to the poor to-morrow from Lady Mary Sutton.–
What blessings will follow us on our journey! I believe I have not told you, Madam, we set out for Faulcum Park on Monday.–_Not_ to stay:–no, I thank God we are _not_ to stay.–If Lord and Lady Darcey were to inhabit Faulcum Park, yet it would not be to _me_ like Barford Abbey,–Barford Abbey is to be their home whilst Sir James and Lady Powis live.
Lord Hallum wants me to walk with him.–Not I, indeed:–I hate a _tete-a-tete_ with heartless men.–On second thoughts, I will go.
Oh Madam! out of breath with astonishment!–What think you:–I am the confidante of Lord Hallum’s passion;–with permission too of the earl and countess.–Heavens! and can you guess, Madam, who it is he loves?–Adieu, my _dear,–dear_ Dean!–Need I say more?–Will you not spare the blushes of your happy daughter,
E. DELVES.
FINIS.