ever, made her a handsome present at parting.

His genteel spirit, on all occasions, makes he often wish him more
consistent.

As soon as he arrived, I took possession of my apartment. I shall make
good use of the light closet in it, if I stay here any time.

One of his attendants returns in the morning to The Lawn; and I made
writing to you by him an excuse for my retiring.

And now give me leave to chide you, my dearest friend, for your rash,
and I hope revocable resolution not to make Mr. Hickman the happiest man
in the world, while my happiness is in suspense. Suppose I were to be
unhappy, what, my dear, would this resolution of yours avail me?
Marriage is the highest state of friendship: if happy, it lessens our
cares, by dividing them, at the same time that it doubles our pleasures
by a mutual participation. Why, my dear, if you love me, will you not
rather give another friend to one who has not two she is sure of? Had
you married on your mother's last birth-day, as she would have had you,
I should not, I dare say, have wanted a refuge; that would have saved me
many mortifications, and much disgrace.

***

Here I was broke in upon by Mr. Lovelace; introducing the widow leading
in a kinswoman of her's to attend me, if I approved of her, till my
Hannah should come, or till I had provided myself with some other
servant. The widow gave her many good qualities; but said, that she had
one great defect; which was, that she could not write, nor read writing;
that part of her education having been neglected when she was young; but
for discretion, fidelity, obligingness, she was not to be out-done by any
body. So commented her likewise for her skill at the needle.

As for her defect, I can easily forgive that. She is very likely and
genteel--too genteel indeed, I think, for a servant. But what I like
least of all in her, she has a strange sly eye. I never saw such an eye;
half-confident, I think. But indeed Mrs. Sinclair herself, (for that is
the widow's name,) has an odd winking eye; and her respectfulness seems
too much studied, methinks, for the London ease and freedom. But people
can't help their looks, you know; and after all she is extremely civil
and obliging,--and as for the young woman, (Dorcas is her name,) she will
not be long with me.

I accepted her: How could I do otherwise, (if I had had a mind to make
objections, which, in my present situation, I had not,) her aunt present,
and the yo