Poor child!--You was certainly trapann'd (and she put a handkerchief to her eyes). I solemnly protest, Madam, I have seen your daughter but twice since she came to Bath.--Last night, when coming from the Rooms, I saw her step into a chaise, followed by Mr. Fletcher.--They beckoned me towards them, whispered the expedition they were going upon, and requested me to break the matter to you, and intercede for their pardon.--My visit has not answered its salutary purpose--I perceive it _has not_. So saying I turned from her,--knowing, by old acquaintance, how I was to play my cards, me being one of those kind of spirits which are never quell'd but by opposition. After fetching me from the door, she promised to hear calmly what I had to say;--and, tho' no orator, I succeeded so well as to gain an assurance, she would see them at their return from Scotland. I left the old Lady in tolerable good humour, and was smiling to myself, recollecting the bout I had passed, when, who should come towards me but Lord Michell,--his countenance full-fraught with curiosity. Well, George!--dear George!--what success in your embassy?--I long to know the fate of honest Fletcher.--Is he to loll in a coach and six?--or, is the coroner's inquest to bring in their verdict Lunacy? A sweet alternative!--_As_ your Lordship's assiduity has shewn the former is the highest pinnacle to which you would wish to lift a friend, I believe your most sanguine hopes are here answered. Is it _so!_--Well, if ever Fletcher offers up a prayer, it ought to be for you, Molesworth. Vastly good, my Lord.--What, before he prays for himself?--_This_ shews your Lordship's _very_ high notions of gratitude. We have high notions of every thing.--Bucks and bloods, as we are call'd,--you may go to the devil before you will find a set of honester fellows. To the _Devil_, my Lord!--That's true, I believe. He was going to reply when the three choice spirits came up, and hurried him, away to the Tuns. A word to _you_, Darcey.--Surely you are never serious in the ridiculous design.--Not offer yourself to Miss Warley, whilst she continues in that neighbourhood?--the very spot on which you ought to secure her,--unless you think all the young fellows who visit at the Abbey are blind, except yourself.--_Why_, you are jealous _already_;--_jealous_ of _Edmund_.--Perhaps _even I_ may become one of your tormentors.--If I like her I shall as certainly tell her _so, as_ that my name is MOLESWORTH. [Here two Letters are omitted, one from Lady MARY to Miss WARLEY,--and one from Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY.] LETTER VIII. Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON. From Mr. _Jenkings's_. Ah! my dear Lady, how kind,--how inexpressibly kind, to promise I shall one day know what has put an end to the intimacy between the two Ladies I _so_ much revere.