To Colonel Bellville.
Tuesday Morning.
I Staid late last night with Bell; there
is no telling you her transport: she
agrees with me, however, as to the propriety
of keeping up our dignity; and has
consented, though with infinite reluctance,
not to admit Lord Melvin's visits till his
father hath made proposals to me. She is
to see him first at Belmont, whither she removes
in four or five days. Emily Howard
is gone, at my request, to spend that interval
with her. We have a divine scheme
in our heads, which you are not yet to be
honored with the knowledge of.
Oh! do you know I have this morning
discovered why Lady Mary is a Tory?
She has been flattered by Bolingbroke, and
sung by Atterbury; had Addison tuned
his lyre to her praise, she had certainly
changed parties. I am seldom at a loss to
explore the source of petticoat-politics. Vanity
is the moving spring in the female-machine,
is Interest is in the male. Certainly
our principle of action is by much
more noble.
Eleven o'Clock.
"Lord, What is come to my mother?"
She is gone smiling into Lady Mary's room;
her air is gay beyond measure; it is she must
sit for a dancing Grace.
Past Twelve.
There is something in agitation with
which I am unacquainted. Lord and Lady
Belmont have been an hour in close consultation
with Lady Mary: la bella Julia
is this moment summoned to attend them.
This unknown lover: I tremble for Harry:
should another––
Almost One.
I Have your letter: this Russian event
–true–as you say, these violent convulsions
–Yes, you are right; your reflexions
are perfectly just, but my thoughts are
at present a little engaged. This consultation
I fear bodes Harry no good–Should
my Lord's authority–I am on the rack of
impatience–
The door opens; Lady Julia comes this
way; she has been in tears; I tremble at
the sight–Bellville, they are not tears of
sorrow; they are like the dew-drops on the
morning rose, she looks a thousand times
more lovely through them; her eyes have
a melting languishment, a softness inexpressible,
a sensibility mixed with transport–
There is an animation in her look, a blush
of unexpected happiness–She moves with
the lightness of a wood-nymph–Lady Belmont
follows with a serene joy in that amiable
countenance. They approach; they
are already in my apartment.
Adio!
Bellville! In what words–How shall I
explain to you–I am breathless with pleasure
and surprise–My Lord–Harry Mandeville
–Lady Julia–They were always
intended for each other.
A letter from Harry this morning, confessing
his passion for Lady Julia, determined
them to make an immediate discovery
–Read the enclosed letters, and adore
the goodness of Providence, which leads
us, by secret ways, to that happiness our
own wisdom could never arrive at.
