AN ECCENTRIC LADY.
Sept. 25.—Mrs. Delany came to me to dinner, and we promised ourselves the whole afternoon tete-a-tete, with no other interruption than what we were well contented to allow to Major Price and General Bude. But before we were well settled in my room, after our late dinner in the next, a visitor appeared,—Miss Finch.
We were both sadly vexed at this disappointment; but you will wonder to hear that I became, in a few minutes, as averse to her going as I had been to her coming: for the Princess Amelia was brought in, by Mrs. Cheveley, to carry away Mrs. Delany to the queen. I had now, therefore, no one, but this chance-comer, to assist me in doing the honours to my two beaus; and well as I like their company, I by no means enjoyed the prospect of receiving them alone: not, I protest, and am sure, from any prudery, but simply from thinking that a single female, in a party, either large or small, of men, unless very much used to the world, appears to be in a situation awkward and unbecoming.
I was quite concerned, therefore, to hear from Miss Finch that she meant but a short visit, for some reasons belonging to her carriage; and when she rose to go, I felt my distaste to this new mode of proceeding so strong, that I hastily related to her my embarrassment, and frankly begged her to stay and help to recreate my guests. She was very much diverted with this distress, which she declared she could not comprehend, but frankly agreed to remain with me; and promised, at my earnest desire, not to publish what I had confessed to her, lest I should gain, around Windsor, the character of a prude.
I had every reason to be glad that I detained her, for she not only made my meeting with the equerries easy and pleasant, but was full of odd entertainment herself. She has a large portion of whimsical humour, which, at times, is original and amusing, though always eccentric, and frequently, from uttering whatever comes uppermost, accidental.
Among many other flights, she very solemnly declared that she could never keep any body's face in her mind when they were out of her sight. “I have quite forgot,” cried she, “the Duke of York already, though I used to see him so continually. Really, it's quite terrible, but I cannot recollect a single trait of anybody when they are the shortest time out of my sight; especially if they are dead;—it's quite shocking, but really I can never remember the face of a person the least in the world when once they are dead!”
The major, who knows her very well, and who first had introduced her to me on my settling here, was much amused with her rattle; and General Bude is always pleased with anything bordering upon the ridiculous. Our evening therefore turned out very well.