My apprehensions increased each moment that brought us near St. James's: but there was nothing for it; so I endeavoured all in my power to argue myself into a serenity of mind, and succeeded beyond my hopes. The amiable condescension of their Majesties, however, contributed more than any thing to compose my spirits, or, what I believe to be nearer the true state of the case, I was absorbed in respect for them, and totally forgot myself. They were so obliging as to pay Sir William some compliments; and the King said, if all my countrywomen were like me, he should be afraid to trust his son thither. I observed Sir William with the utmost attention; I saw his eyes were on me the whole time; but, my Louisa, I cannot flatter myself so far as to say they were the looks of love; they seemed to me rather the eyes of scrutiny, which were on the watch, yet afraid they should see something unpleasing. I longed to be at home, to know from him how I had acquitted myself. To my question, he answered, by pressing me to his bosom, crying, "Like an angel, by heaven! Upon my soul, Julia, I never was so charmed with you in my life." "And upon my honour," I returned, "I could not discover the least symptom of tenderness in your regards. I dreaded all the while that you was thinking I should disgrace you." "You was never more mistaken. I never had more reason to be proud of any part of my family. The circle rang with your praises. But you must not expect tenderness in public, my love; if you meet with it in private, you will have no cause of complaint." This will give you but a strange idea of the world I am in, Louisa. I do not above half like it, and think a ramble, arm in arm with you upon our native mountains, worth it all. However, my lot is drawn; and, perhaps, as times and husbands go, _I have no cause of complaint_. Your's most sincerely, JULIA STANLEY. LETTER IX. TO Lady STANLEY. My Dearest Child,