Barford Abbey, a Novel: In a Series of LettersGunning, Mrs. (Susannah)
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Barford Abbey, a Novel: In a Series of Letters
Gunning, Mrs. (Susannah)
Epistolary fiction, English -- 18th century; Gothic fiction
The curtain of night was dropping by slow degrees, when a distant sound
of wheels interrupted our conversation.--We stood listening a moment, as
it approach'd nearer. Edmund cry'd out,--They are come; I hear,
Caesar's voice; and, taking a hearty leave, ran home to receive them.--I
directed my course towards the Abbey, in hopes the chaise had proceeded
thither, and found I had steer'd right, seeing it stand at the entrance.
Mr. Jenkings did not get out; Lady Powis refused to part with Miss
Warley this night. Whilst I write, I hope she is enjoying a sweet
refreshing sleep. O! Molesworth! could I flatter myself she dreams of
me!--
To-morrow Lord and Lady Allen, Mr. and Mrs. Winter, dine here;
consequently Miss Winter, and her _fond_ admirer, Lord Baily.--How often
have I laugh'd to see that cooing, billing, pair? It is come home,
you'll say, with a vengeance.--Not so neither.--I never intend making
such a very fool of myself as Lord Baily.--Pray, Madam, don't sit
against that door;--and pray, Madam, don't sit against this window.--I
hear you have encreased your cold;--you speak hoarse:--indeed, Madam,
you speak hoarse, though you won't confess it.--In this strain has the
monkey ran on for two hours.--No body must help him at table but Miss
Winter.--He is always sure to eat whatever is next her.--She, equally
complaisant, sends her plate to him;--desires he will have a bit of the
same.--Excessively high, my Lord;--you never eat any thing so well
done.--The appearance of fruit is generally the occasion of great
altercation:--What! venture on peaches again, Miss Winter?--Indeed, my
Lord, I shall only eat this small one;--that was not half ripe which
made me sick yesterday.--No more nuts; I absolutely lay an embargo on
nuts,--No more, nonsense: I absolutely lay an embargo on nonsense, says
Molesworth to
DARCEY.
LETTER XVI.
Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.
_Barford Abbey_.
Once more, my dear Lady, I dispatch a packet from this place,--after
bidding adieu to the agreeable Dean,--Brandon Lodge,--and my friends in
that neighbourhood.
How long I shall continue here, God only knows.--If my wishes could
avail, the time would be short; very short, indeed.--I am quite out of
patience with Mr. and Mrs. Smith; some delay every time I hear from
them.--First, we were to embark the middle of this month;--then the
latter end;--now it is put off till the beginning of the next:--perhaps,
when I hear next, it will be, they do not go at all.--Such weak
resolutions are never to be depended on;--a straw, like a magnet, will
draw them from side to side.
I think I am as much an inhabitant of this house as of Mr.
Jenkings's:--I lay here last night after my journey, and shall dine here
this day; but as a great deal of company is expected, must go to my
_other_ home to dress.--To-morrow your Ladyship shall command me.
From Mr. _Jenkings's_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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