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
Lord Darcey took his place at table, next Lord Allen;--I sat opposite,
with Miss Winter on my right, and Lord Baily on my left.--Sorry I was,
to step between the Lovers; but ceremony required it; so I hope they do
not hate me on that account.--Lord Allen has a good deal of archness in
his countenance, though not of the ill-natur'd kind.--I don't know how,
but every time he look'd across the table I trembled; it seem'd a
foreboding of what was to follow.
He admired the venison;--said it was the best he had ever tasted from
Sir James's park;--but declared he would challenge him next Monday, if
all present would favour him with their company.--Lady Allen seconded
the request so warmly, that it was immediately assented to.--
What think you, said his Lordship it is to the _young_ folks that I
address myself, of seeing before you a couple who that day has been
married twenty years, and never frown'd on one another?
Think! said Lord Darcey, it is very possible.
_Possible_ it certainly is, reply'd Lady Powis; but very few instances,
I believe--
What say you, Miss Warley? ask'd his Lordship: you find Lord Darcey
supposes it very possible.--Good God! I thought I should have sunk: it
was not so much the question, as the manner he express'd it in. I felt
as if my face was stuck full of needles: however, I stifled my
confusion, and reply'd, I was quite of Lady Powis's opinion.
Well, what say you, Miss Winter?
How I rejoiced! I declare I could hardly contain my joy, when he
address'd himself to her.
What say I, my Lord? return'd she; why, _truly_, I think it must be your
own faults, if you are not treated _civilly_.--The Devil! cry'd he.
O fie! O fie! my Lord, squeaked my left hand neighbour.--And why O fie!
retorted his Lordship: Is _civility_ all we have to expect?
We can _claim_ nothing else said the squeaker.--If the dear creatures
condescend to _esteem_ us, we ought to consider it a particular
indulgence.
And so, Miss Warley, cry'd Lord Allen, we are only to be _esteemed_
now-a-days. I thank God my good woman has imbibed none of those modern
notions. Her actions have convinced the world of that long ago.
Poh! my Lord, said Lady Allen, we are old-fashion'd people:--you must
not talk thus before Gentlemen and Ladies bred in the present age.
Come, come, let me hear Lord Darcey speak to this point, continued his
Lordship. He is soon to be _one of us_;--we shall shortly, I am told,
salute him _Benedick_.
On this Sir James threw down his knife and fork with emotion, crying,
This is news, indeed! This is what I never heard before! Upon my word,
your Lordship has been very secret! looking full at Lord Darcey. But you
are of _age_, my Lord, so I have no _right_ to be consulted; however, I
should be glad to know, who it is that runs away with your heart. This
was spoke half in jest, half in earnest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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