One of us chambermaids, Mame, continued she, always assist the waiters;—it was my turn this evening; so, as I was stirring the fire in the card-room, I could hear the Ladies whisper their partners, if they let strangers stand above them, they might dance with whom they could get for the future.—They were busy about the matter when the Colonel enter'd with Miss Light, who though she is very handsome, very sensible, and all that, it did not become her to wear a silver silk;—for what, as our Ladies said, is family without fortune?—But I am running on with a story of an hour long.—So Mame, as soon as the Colonel and his partner went into the dancing-room,—one cry'd, Defend me from French'd hair, if people's heads are to look like towers;—another, her gown sleeves were too large;—a third, the robeings too high;—a fourth, her ruff too deep:—in short, Mame, her very shoe-buckles shared the same fate.
This recital put me out of all patience:—I could not endure to see held up a picture, which, though out of the hands of a dauber, presented a true likeness of human nature in her most deprav'd state.—Enough, Mrs. Betty, said I, now pray warm my bed; it is late, and I am fatigued.
O! to be sure, Mame; but will you not first hear what was the occasion of the noise?—The country-dances, continued she, not waiting my reply, began; and our Town's Gentlemen ran to the top of the room, leaving the Officers to dance at the bottom.—This put them in so violent a passion, that the Colonel swore, if our Gentlemen persisted in their ill manners, not a soul should dance.—So, Mame, upon this our Gentlemen let some of the Officers stand above them;—and there was no dispute till after ten.—What they quarrelled about then I don't know;—but, when I came into the room, they were all going to fight;—and fight they certainly would, if they could have got our Gentlemen down stairs.—Not one of them would stir, which made the others so mad, that they would have pulled them down, had not the Ladies interfered.—Then it was, Mame, I suppose, you heard the cries and shrieks; for every one that had husbands, brothers, or admirers there, took hold of them; begging and praying they would not fight.—Poor Miss Peggy Turner will have a fine rub; for she always deny'd to her Mamma, that there was any thing in the affair between her and Mr. Grant the Attorney. Now she has discovered all, by fainting away when he broke from her to go to the other end of the room.
I hope there has been no blood shed?
None, I'll assure you, Mame, in this house; what happens out of it is no business of mine. Now, Mame, would you please to go to bed? By all means, Mrs. Betty.—So away went my communicative companion. Being much tired, I shall lay down an hour or two, then reassume my pen.
Four o'clock in the morning.
Not able to close my eyes, I am got up to have the pleasure of introducing to your Ladyship the Gentleman who I mention'd was to dine with us at the other inn. Judge my surprize, when I found him to be the worthy Dean of H—— going into Oxfordshire to visit his former flock;—I knew him before Mr. Jenkings pronounced his name, by the strong likeness of his picture.
I even fancied the beautiful pair stood before me, whose hands he is represented joining. It is much to be regretted so fine a piece should be hid from the world.—Why should not this be proportion? The other portraits which your Ladyship has drawn, are even allowed by Reynolds to be masterly.—Let me therefore entreat, next time he comes to the Lodge, my favourite may at least have a chance of being called from banishment.
The Dean was almost discouraged from proceeding on his journey, by hearing of your Ladyship's absence, and the death of Mrs. Whitmore.—He was no stranger to what concern'd me, tho' I could be scarce an inhabitant of Hillford-Down at the time he left it.—I suppose his information was from Mr. Jenkings; I could see them from the window deep in discourse, walking in the Bowling-Green, from the moment the Dean got out of his chaise till dinner.
The latter expressed infinite satisfaction when I joined them; looking with such stedfast tenderness, as if he would trace on my countenance the features of some dear friend.—His sincere regard for Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore, and the gratitude he owes your Ladyship, must make him behold me with a favourable eye, knowing how greatly I have been distinguish'd by the two latter.