Barford Abbey, a Novel: In a Series of Letters

by Mrs. Gunning

But is it not very hard upon your poor girl, that all the young smarts we brought down, and that which we found here, should have dispos'd of their hearts?—All;—even Lord Hallum,—he who used to boast so much of freedom,—now owns he has dispos'd of his.—

But to whom?—Aye: that's a question.—

They think, perhaps, the old stuff will do well enough for poor me!—Thanks to my genius, I can set my cap at any thing.

Why there's something tolerable in the sound of a Dean's Lady—Let me see if it will do.—"The Deans's coach;—the Dean's servants."—Something better this than a plain Mr.

Here comes Miss Powis. Now shall I be forc'd to huddle this into my pocket.—I am resolv'd she shall not see the preferment I have chalk'd out for myself.—No, no; I must be secret, or I shall have it taken from me.

This Miss Powis,—this very dutiful young Lady, that I used to have set up for a pattern,—now tells me that I must write no more; that you will not expect to hear from me 'till the next post.—If I must take Miss Powis's advice in everything;—if I must be guided by her;—you know who said this, Madam;—why then there is an end of my scribbling for this night.—But remember it is not my fault.—No, 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