LETTER XXXIII.
The Honourable George Molesworth to Richard Risby, Esq;
Dover.
Risby, I am lifted above myself!—I am overcome with surprise!—I am mad with joy!—Is it possible!—can it be!—But Lord Darcey's servant has swore it;—yes, he has swore, a letter directed in Miss Powis's own hand, lay on the counter in a banker's shop where he went to change a bill: the direction was to Lady Mary Sutton:—he has put many for the same Lady into the post-office.—I run, I ride or rather fly to town.
You may jump, you may sing, but command your features before the family.—Should it be a mistake of John's, we kill them twice.
If I live to see the resurrection of our hopes, John shall be with you instantly.—On second thought, I will not dispatch this, unless we have a bless'd certainty.
Molesworth.