“And when I had the additional mortification of being assured that you had been in town, and at your own house, for a day and a night, and would not allow me or mine the least notice of it, which, with the dismal thoughts that it brought into my head and heart, I will for my own ease strive for ever, for ever to forget. “Your commanding my dearest Peggy to show me the letter your most beloved writ to her will help me to this happiness, and makes me hope I shall receive an assurance, under your dearest hand, that you designed it for that purpose. “Though I desire above all things in this world to see you for a moment, yet so much do I prize Lady Marlborough’s safety above my own satisfaction, that I would not have you in this distracted place, at this dismal juncture, for any consideration under heaven. I intend, by God’s permission, to leave it myself soon; but whither to go, or how to dispose of a life entirely devoted to you, I know not till I receive your orders and commands. “But I live in hopes that the great and glorious Creator of the world, who does and must direct all things, will direct you to make me the happiest man upon the face of the earth, and enable me to make my dearest, dearest Lady Marlborough, as she is the wisest and the best, the happiest of all women. “I am, your grace knows I am, with the truest, the sincerest, and the most faithful heart, “Your Grace’s Most dutiful and most obedient Humble Servant, CONINGSBY. “There is no such cattle or sheep as your grace desires, to be had till July next.” Such were the terms in which the devoted Lord, devoted certainly to some fascinating object personified in her form as its representative, addressed the venerable Duchess. Her reply, most unfortunately, is not preserved; and with this remarkable letter the correspondence, as far as we can glean, closes. Dr. Coxe, whilst with tantalising brevity he has described Lord Coningsby’s letters as “the rapturous effusions of a love-sick swain,” has not deemed it important, nor perhaps correct, to leave us any further details of these singular addresses, which so grave an historian, as he who has commemorated the fortunes of John Duke of Marlborough, has considered as impertinent in so serious a narrative. Lord Coningsby did not long survive his disappointment. He died in 1729; and his daughter, Lady Coningsby, leaving no issue, the title, in 1761, became extinct.