True, by the Gods!--Nevertheless, stop your rash conclusions, for I have heard her whole story, therefore I tell you that Miss Ashburn is an angel, Mr. Murden a fine fellow, Mr. Valmont an idiot, Sibella a saint, and Montgomery--a scoundrel: though on my soul she talked so movingly of his _never fading faith_ I could not for my life persuade myself to tell her my true opinion of him. From the little she knows of Murden, (her hermit and deliverer) I long to know more. I burn to tell you of her wonderful escape, of the marvellous Ruin on the rock, but I have resolved to wave explanations till I come.--I charge you, by your friendship, breathe not a whisper of the adventure till you see me. I am going to restore her to her friends; her eloquence did part, but truly her condition did more.--I never bargained to pay off such a mortgage. I could love her dearly; but then you know my name is Filmar, and as a Lord I am bound in duty to love and cherish no son but a son of my own begetting. I have dispatched two messengers, one for carriages and another to that inn at Hipsley (_which I don't love at all now_) to make enquiries after Mr. Murden. I wonder how he and I shall adjust our accounts.--I fear there is a long balance in his favour. You perceive, Walter, all my secret plottings and contrivings have brought me to a fine heritage at last! Murden cannot call me any thing less than a _thief_, and will say I deserve a thief's punishment. Valmont too will want a peck at me, neither for the credit of love nor integrity but only because Sibella is the great great great granddaughter of some one or other of his _great_ grandfather's. Montgomery may pretend the honour of _his wife_ (her own phrase) impeached by her residence with me, and if he won't believe that until two hours since I never forced myself into her presence, why I shall be obliged by all the laws of honour and gentlemanship to prove it by the length of a sword. Heigh ho! and this pretty wisdom-speaking mortal has actually prevailed on me to endure the brunt and carry her back to Miss Ashburn! She has offered high bribes,--solid comforts,--made up of duty and justice;--but I have a sickly palate--spoiled by other viands,--I want a modern seasoned fricassee. Alas! I have no alternative--unless I shoot her and bury her under a tree. I don't know what of that sort I may be tempted to for myself! for when I have no longer her and her concerns to think of I must turn to my own--a pretty prospect! Do you know, Walter, any way that a Lord turned plain man can get a living? for unless I _get it_ heaven knows I must go without it.