elight,
without the least hurry or confusion, that it was her surprise and
admiration: but kindly would have it that I took too much care upon
me. "Yet," said she, "I don't see but you are always fresh and lively,
and never seem tired or fatigued; and are always dressed and easy, so
that no company find you unprepared, or unfit to receive them, come
when they will, whether it be to breakfast or dinner."

I told her ladyship, I owed all this and most of the conduct for
which she was pleased to praise me, to her dear brother, who, at the
beginning of my happiness, gave me several cautions and instructions
for my behaviour; which had been the rule of my conduct ever since,
and I hoped ever would be:--"To say nothing," added I, "which yet
would be very unjust, of the assistance I received from worthy Mrs.
Jervis, who is an excellent manager."

_Good Creature_, _Sweet Pamela_, and _Charming Girl_, were her
common words; and she was pleased to attribute to me a graceful and
unaffected ease, and that I have a natural dignity in my person and
behaviour, which at once command love and reverence; so that, my dear
Miss Darnford, I am in danger of being proud. For you must believe,
that her ladyship's approbation gives me great pleasure; and the more,
as I was afraid, before she came, I should not have come on near
so well in her opinion. As the chariot passed along, she took great
notice of the respects paid me by people of different ranks, and of
the blessings bestowed upon me, by several, as we proceeded; and said,
she should fare well, and be rich in good wishes, for being in my
company.

"The good people who know us, _will_ do so, Madam," said I; "but I had
rather have their silent prayers than their audible ones; and I have
caused some of them to be told so. What I apprehend is, that you will
be more uneasy to-morrow, when at church you'll see a good many people
in the same way. Indeed my story, and your dear brother's tenderness
to me, are so much talked of, that many strangers are brought hither
to see us: 'tis the only thing," continued I (and so it is, Miss),
"that makes me desirous to go to London; for by the time we return,
the novelty, I hope, will cease." Then I mentioned some verses of Mr.
Cowley, which were laid under my cushion in our seat at church, two
Sundays ago, by some unknown hand; and how uneasy they have made me.
I will transcribe them, my dear, and give you the particulars of our
conversation on that