Yesterday was a day of great business with me; Mary drove me all in the rain to Basingstoke, and still more all in the rain back again, because it rained harder; and soon after our return to Deane a sudden invitation and an own postchaise took us to Ashe Park to dine _tete-a-tete_ with Mr. Holder, Mr. Gauntlet, and James Digweed; but our _tete-a-tete_ was cruelly reduced by the non-attendance of the two latter. We had a very quiet evening. I believe Mary found it dull, but I thought it very pleasant. To sit in idleness over a good fire in a well-proportioned room is a luxurious sensation. Sometimes we talked, and sometimes we were quite silent; I said two or three amusing things, and Mr. Holder made a few infamous puns. * * * * * Mr. Heathcote met with a genteel little accident the other day in hunting; he got off to lead his horse over a hedge, or a house, or something, and his horse in his haste trod upon his leg, or rather ancle, I believe, and it is not certain whether the small bone is not broke. . . . Martha has accepted Mary's invitation for Lord Portsmouth's ball. He has not yet sent out his _own_ invitations, but _that_ does not signify; Martha comes, and a ball there must be. I think it will be too early in her mother's absence for me to return with her. * * * * *