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LETTER VI

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Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.

Barford Abbey,

Angry!—You are really angry!—Well, I too am angry with myself.—I do love Miss Warley;—but why this to you?—Your penetration has already discover'd it.—Yet, O Molesworth! such insurmountable obstacles:—no declaration can be made—at least whilst I continue in this neighbourhood.

Sir James would rave at my imprudence.—Lady Powis, whatever are her sentiments, must give them up to his opinion.—Inevitably I lose the affection of persons I have sacredly—promised to obey—sacredly.—Was not my promise given to a dying father?—Miss Warley has no tye; yet, by the duty she observes to Sir James and Lady Powis, you would think her bound by the strongest cords of nature.

Scarce a moment from her:—at Jenkings's every morning;—on foot if good weather—else in the coach for the convenience of bringing her with me.—I am under no constraint:—Sir James and her Ladyship seem not the least suspicious: this I much wonder at, in the former particularly.

In my tête-à-têtes with Miss Warley, what think you are our subjects?—Chiefly divinity, history, and geography.—Of these studies she knows more than half the great men who have wrote for ages past.—On a taste for the two latter I once prided myself.—An eager pursuit for the former springs up in my mind, whilst conversing with her, like a plant long hid in the earth, and called out by the appearance of a summer's sun.—This sun must shine at Faulcon Park;—without it all will be dreary:—yet how can I draw it thither?—Edmund—but why should I fear Edmund?

Will you, or will you not, meet your old friend Finch here next Wednesday?—Be determined in your answer.—I have suspence enough on my hands to be excused from any on your account.—Sir James thinks it unkind you have not called on him since I left England;—hasten therefore to make up matters with the baronet—Need I say the pleasure I shall have in shaking you by the hand?

DARCEY.

Barford Abbey, a Novel: In a Series of Letters

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