But what, you ask, was Mrs. Powis's excuse to leave England, without being suspected?--Why, I'll tell you: by the contrivance of Lady Mary, together with Mrs. Whitmore, it was believ'd she had left the world;--that she died in town of a malignant fever;--that--but I cannot be circumstantial--Miss Powis, after her parents went abroad, was brought down by Lady Mary, and consign'd to the care of her grandmother, with whom she liv'd as the orphan child of some distant relation. Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Powis were travelling through Italy, he apply'd to his friend the Lord-Lieutenant,--and by _that_ interest was appointed to the government of ----. It was here my acquaintance with them commenc'd: not that I suspected Miss Glinn to be Mrs. Powis, though I saw her every day.--_Glinn_ was a name she assum'd 'till she returned to England.--A thousand little circumstances which render'd her character unsuspected, I want spirits to relate.--Suffice it to say,--the death of Mrs. Whitmore;--a daughter passing on the world for an orphan;--and the absence of Lady Mary Sutton;--made them resolve to hazard every thing rather than leave their child unprotected.--Alas! for what are they come home? Nothing is impossible with a Supreme Being.--Lord Darcey _may_ recover.--But why this ray of hope to make the horrors of my mind more dreadful?--He is _past_ hope, you say.-- RISBY. LETTER XXXIII. The Honourable George Molesworth to Richard Risby, Esq; _Dover_. Risby, I am lifted above myself!--I am overcome with surprise!--I am mad with joy!--Is it possible!--can it be!--But Lord Darcey's servant has swore it;--yes, he has swore, a letter directed in Miss Powis's _own_ hand, lay on the counter in a banker's shop where he went to change a bill: the direction was to Lady Mary Sutton:--he has put many for the same Lady into the post-office.--I _run_, I _ride_ or rather _fly_ to town. You may jump, you may sing, but command your features before the family.--Should it be a mistake of John's, we kill them twice. If I live to see the resurrection of our hopes, John shall be with you instantly.--On second thought, I will not dispatch this, unless we have a bless'd certainty. Molesworth. LETTER XXXIV. The Honourable George Molesworth to the same. _London_. Are you a mile from the Abbey, Dick?--Are you out of sight,--out of hearing?--John, though you should offer to kill him, dare not deliver letter or message 'till you are at a proper distance.