I think I have told your Ladyship, I was to be honour'd with the coach to convey me to the Abbey.--About half an hour after one it arriv'd, when a card was deliver'd me from Lady Powis, to desire my friends would not be uneasy, if I did not return early in the evening, as she hop'd for an agreeable party at whist, Lord Darcey being at the Abbey. Mrs. Jenkings informed me, his Lordship was a ward of Sir James's just of age;--his estate genteel, not large;--his education liberal,--his person fine,--his temper remarkably good.--Sir James, said she, is for ever preaching lessons to him, that he must marry _prudently_;--which is, that he must never marry without an immense fortune.--Ah! Miss Warley, this same love of money has serv'd to make poor Lady Powis very unhappy. Sir James's greatest fault is covetousness;--but who is without fault?--Lord Darcey was a lovely youth, continued she, when he went abroad; I long to see if he is alter'd by travelling.--Edmund and his Lordship were school-fellows:--how my son will be overjoy'd to hear he is at the Abbey!--I detain you, Miss Warley, or could talk for ever of Lord Darcey! Do go, my dear, the family will expect you.--Promise, said I, taking her hand,--_promise_ you will not sit up late on my account.--She answer'd nothing, but pressing me to her bosom, seem'd to tell me her heart was full of affection. The old coachman, as we drove up the lawn, eyed me attentively, saying to the footman, _It will be so, John, you may depend upon it_.--John answer'd only by a shrug.--What either meant, I shall not pretend to divine.--As I came near the house, I met Mr. Jenkings almost out of breath, and, pulling the string, he came to the coach-side. I was hurrying home, my dear young Lady, said he, to--to--to--Now faith I'm afraid you'll be angry. Angry with you, Sir!--angry with you, Mr. Jenkings!--is it possible! Then, to be plain, Madam, I was hurrying home, to request you would wear no cap.--Never shall I forget how pretty you look'd, when I saw you without one!--Of all things, I would _this day_ wish you might look your best. To satisfy him I had taken some little pains in honour to the family, I let back the hood of my cloke.--He examin'd the manner in which my hair was dress'd, and smiled his approbation;--which _smile_, though only seen in the eyes, was more expressive than a contraction of all the other features.--Wishing me a happy day, he bid the coachman drive on. Coming within sight of the Abbey, my heart beat as if breaking from confinement.--I was oblig'd to call it to a severe trial,--to ask, Why this insurrection,--whence these tumults?--My monitor reply'd, Beware of self-sufficiency,--beware of its mortifying consequences.--