Think me not ungrateful, my ever-honour'd Lady, that I have been silent under the ten thousand obligations which I receiv'd at Barford Abbey.--But indeed, my dear Lady, I have been _very_ ill.--I have had the small-pox:--I was seiz'd delirious the evening after my arrival in Town.--My God! what a wretch did I set out with!--Vile man!--Man did I say?--_No_; he is a disgrace to _manhood_.--How shall I tell your Ladyship all I have suffer'd?--I am weak,--_very_ weak;--I find myself unequal to the task.-- This moment I have hit on an expedient that will unravel all;--I'll recall a letter [Footnote: This was the same Lord Darcey's servant saw on the counter.] which I have just sent down to be put into the post-office;--a letter I wrote Lady Mary Sutton immediately on my arrival here;--but was seiz'd so violently, that I could not add the superscription, for which reason it has lain by ever since.--I am easy on Lady Mary's account:--Mr. Delves has acquainted her of my illness:--like wise the prospect of my recovery. Consider then, dear Lady Powis, the inclos'd as if it was address'd to yourself. I cannot do justice to the affection,--the compassion,--the tender assiduity I have experienc'd from Mr. Delves's family:--I shall always love them; I hope too I shall always be grateful. God grant, my dear Lady;--God grant, dear Sir James, that long ere this you may have embrac'd Mr. and Mrs. Powis.--My heart is with _you_:--it delights to dwell at Barford Abbey. In a few days I hope to do myself the honour of writing to your Ladyship again.--One line from your dear hand would be most gratefully receiv'd by your oblig'd and affectionate F. WARLEY. _P.S._ My good friends Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings shall hear from me next post. LETTER XXXVIII. Miss Powis to Lady MARY SUTTON. Oh my dear Lady! what a villain have I escap'd from?--Could your Ladyship believe that a man, who, to all appearance, has made a good husband to your agreeable neighbour upwards of twelve years, and preserv'd the character of a man of honour;--could you believe in the decline of life he would have fallen off? No, he cannot have fallen: such a mind as his never was exalted.--It is the virtues of his wife that has hitherto made his vices imperceptible;--that has kept them in their dark cell, afraid to venture out;--afraid to appear amidst her shining perfections.--Vile, abandon'd Smith!--But for the sake of his injur'd, unhappy wife, I will not discover his baseness to any but yourself and Lady Powis.--Perhaps Mrs. Smith may not be unacquainted with his innate bad principles;--perhaps she conceals her knowledge of them knowing it vain to complain of a disorder which is past the reach of medicine.--What cure is there for mischief lurking under the mask of hypocrisy?--It must be of long standing before that covering can grow over it:--like a vellum on the eye, though taken off ever skillfully, it will again spread on the blemish'd sight.