MOLESWORTH.
LETTER X.
Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.
Barford Abbey.
Bridgman!—Could Bridgman dare aspire to Miss Warley!—He offer her his hand!—he be connected with a woman whose disposition is diametrically opposite to his own!—No,—that would not have done, though I had never seen her.—Let him seek for one who has a heart shut up by a thousand locks.
After his own conjectures,—after what you have told him,—should he but attempt to take her from me, by all that is sacred, he shall repent it dearly.
Molesworth! you are my friend,—I take your admonitions well;—but, surely, you should not press thus hardly on my soul, knowing its uneasy situation.—My state is even more perplexing than when we parted:—I did not then know she was going to France.—Yes, she is absolutely going to France.—Why leave her friends here?—Why not wait the arrival of Lady Mary Sutton in England?
I have used every dissuasive argument but one.—That shall be my last.—If that fails I go—I positively go with her.—It is your opinion that she loves me.—Would it were mine!—Not the least partiality can I discover.—Why then be precipitate?—Every moment she is gaining ground in the affections of Sir James and Lady Powis.—Time may work wonders in the mind of the former.—Without his consent never can I give my hand;—the commands of a dying father forbid me.—Such a father!—O George! you did not know him;—so revered,—so honour'd,—so belov'd! not more in public than in private life.