“But matters turned out otherwise. I had entered the room only a few minutes, when a most genteel handsome young Man advanced, and with such sort of speeches as you all make solicited the honour of my hand. To tell you the honest and plain truth, I had seen him before, and I therefore graciously assented. I left the ladies that accompanied me—Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Graham’s sister—to look out for themselves; and I began thereupon to enjoy myself. Now, if you want to know his name, you must wait till I choose to tell you. He contributed to my passing a very agreeable evening; and so far I am obliged to him, for he knew many who were present, and he took good care that I should be in no lack of partners; but whether I ever see him again does not seem to be of any sort of consequence. Everyone was astonished at my great good luck in dancing, for the Gentlemen were, as usual, idle. There were some sad Coxcombs present, I regret to say, who found it too much exertion even to come forward and shawl a lady, when she was departing. But I forget—I am writing to one who knows not the meaning of the word ‘trouble,’ and who would never leave any woman, not if she were the least Bewitching of her Sex, to stand neglected, if he could put matters right. So you see, my dear Sir, what my opinion of you is.
“Having related thus much, I really am bound to go farther, and to inform you that the young man’s name was Albert Peirce, that he is a nephew of the good Admiral, that he is an officer in His Majesty’s Army, and that I saw him at Sandgate, the evening before our great scare about the Invasion. After all his civilities in the way of getting me Partners, he also handed me down to the vastly elegant Supper, which was provided; and by that time, there’s no doubt, I needed it.
“You may perhaps be thinking that I do very well without you, on the whole; yet I cannot say that I do not miss my absent friend. Indeed I do, and my Spirits are lower since you went away. ’Tis said too that my Roses are much diminished, and that I must e’en take to the use of Painting and Cosmetics, if I would preserve my charms; but this, I confess, I am loath to do. So come home again, my dear Denham, I entreat of you, as soon as ever you may, for in truth I am longing to see you again. Is there no Exchange of Prisoners ever to be brought about by the two Governments? The present state of things is sad and dolorous for so many. I think of sending this letter to your old address in Paris, in a cover addressed to M. de Bertrand, who so kindly took in Roy, when he had the Small-pox. It appears that few letters which are posted, arrive safely; and ’tis at least worth while to try this mode. And now I must write no more, for my Grandmother craves a part of the sheet for a letter on her own behalf, that she may give suitable particulars about Molly, who begs me to send her Duty to her Parents, and her Love to Roy. I have begged only that the Letter may be writ to yourself, that so the whole sheet may be yours.
“So at present no more, from
“Yours faithfully and Till Death,
“Polly Keene.”
Denham held the signature to his lips. Would he ever again be tempted to doubt sweet Polly’s constancy?
The letter following, on the last page, was much shorter and different in style. Mrs. Fairbank wrote—
“My dear Captain Ivor,—I am desirous to let Colonel Baron and his wife know that Molly is in good health, and Behaves herself as she ought. I have therefore requested the use of one page in Polly’s letter, since she assures me that she has nought else to say that is of great Importance. You will doutless kindly give my message to Colonel and Mrs. Baron.
“I am greatly Indebted to Colonel Baron for the money which has been sent to me by his Bankers regularly, in conformity with his orders given many months ago. Expenses are increasingly heavy, as Prices continue steadily to arise, in consequence of the long-continued Wars; and I shou’d find it tru’ly difficult to manage, as things are now, but for his Seasonable and generous Help. I am thankful to have it in my power to do all that is needed for Molly, and the help to myself is not small. Bread and every necessary are rising.
“Molly has a Governess who comes in every day; and I am pleased to be able to report that she makes good advance in her Study’s, as much as one cou’d expect. The young Governess is of French Extraction, her father having lost his life in the French Revolution, and her mother having fled with this daughter to England. She will therefore be able to impart to Molly the correct Pronunciation of French terms, which few Britishers manage to Acquire. Molly is growing fast, and though she will never be handsome, she is gaining a Pleasing expression of countenance; her manners are Genteel; and she behaves with Candour and Propriety.
“Serious fears have been Entertain’d of a French Invasion of this Country, but I trust, thro’ the Mercy of God, that the danger is averted for this autumn. Mr. and Mrs. Bryce have fled to Bath for greater Safety, in accordance with my Advice; and indeed I was heartily glad when Polly had left Sandgate. If the french Army shou’d land, and shou’d advance to Lonn, God forbid they shou’d molest the good Citizens, who I hope will be enabled to drive the french by thousands into old Thames.[1] People seem now, however, greatly to relax in their fears.