ell her of it neither; you will kill her with
surprise.--Confounded luck! that I did not know she was in London.

I shall be with you in less than two hours, after Robert:--I send him
on, with orders to ride every horse to death, lest he should be set out
for Dover.

Jenkings is now on the road, but he travels too slow for my wishes.--If
she is gone, prepare swift horses for me to follow:--I am kept by force
to refresh myself.--What refreshment can I want!--Fly, I say, to Miss
Powis, now no longer Miss Warley.--Leave her not, I charge you;--stir
not from her;--by our friendship, Molesworth, stir not from her 'till
you see

DARCEY.

LETTER XXIX.

The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to RICHARD RISBY, Esq;

_Dover_.

Oh Dick! the most dreadful affair has happen'd!--Lord Darcey is
distracted and dying; I am little better--Good God! what shall I
do?--what can I do?--He lies on the floor in the next room, with half
his hair torn off.--Unhappy man! fatigue had near kill'd him, before the
melancholy account reach'd his ears.--Miss Warley, I mean Miss Powis, is
gone to the bottom.--She sunk in the yacht that sailed yesterday from
Dover for Calais.--Every soul is lost.--The fatal accident was confirm'd
by a boat which came in not ten minutes before we arriv'd.--There was no
keeping it from Lord Darcey.--The woman of the Inn we are at has a son
lost in the same vessel: she was in fits when we alighted.--Some of the
wreck is drove on shore.--What can equal this scene!--Oh, Miss Powis!
most amiable of women, I tremble for your relations!--But Darcey, poor
Darcey, what do I feel for you!--He speaks:--he calls for me:--I go to
him.

Oh, Risby! my heart is breaking; for once let it be said a man's heart
can break.--Whilst he rav'd, whilst his sorrows were loud, there was
some chance; but now all is over. He is absolutely dying;--death is in
every feature.--His convulsions how dreadful!--how dreadful the pale
horror of his countenance!--But then so calm,--so compos'd!--I repeat,
there can, be no chance.--

Where is Molesworth? I heard him say as I enter'd his apartment: come to
me, my friend,--_holding out his hand_--come to me, my friend.--Don't
weep--don't let me leave you in tears.--If you wish me well,
rejoice:--think how I should have dragg'd out a miserable number of
days, after--oh, George! after--Here he stopp'd.--The surgeon desir'd he
would suffer us to lift him on the bed.--No, he said, in a faultering
accen