ame near his park, was on the highway
side, perhaps near the very spot where he stood to see me pass to London
so many weeks ago--Poor man!--When I first saw him, (which was before the
coach came near, for I looked out only, as thinking I would mark the
place where I last beheld him,) he looked with so disconsolate an air,
and so fixed, that I compassionately said to myself, Surely the worthy
man has not been there ever since!

I twitched the string just in time: the coach stopt. Mr. Orme, said I,
how do you? Well, I hope?--How does Miss Orme?

I had my hand on the coach-door. He snatched it. It was not an
unwilling hand. He pressed it with his lips. God be praised, said he,
(with a countenance, O how altered for the better!) for permitting me
once more to behold that face--that angelic face, he said.

God bless you, Mr. Orme! said I: I am glad to see you. Adieu.

The coach drove on. Poor Mr. Orme! said my aunt.

Mr. Orme, Lucy, said I, don't look so ill as you wrote he was.

His joy to see you, said she--But Mr. Orme is in a declining way.

Mr. Greville, on the coach stopping, rode back just as it was going on
again--And with a loud laugh--How the d----l came Orme to know of your
coming, madam!--Poor fellow! It was very kind of you to stop your coach
to speak to the statue. And he laughed again.--Nonsensical! At what?

My grandmamma Shirley, dearest of parents! her youth, as she was pleased
to say, renewed by the expectation of so soon seeing her darling child,
came (as my aunt told us, you know) on Thursday night to Selby-house, to
charge her and Lucy with her blessing to me; and resolving to stay there
to receive me. Our beloved Nancy was also to be there; so were two other
cousins, Kitty and Patty Holles, good young creatures; who, in my
absence, had attended my grandmamma at every convenient opportunity, and
whom I also found here.

When we came within sight of this house, Now, Harriet, said Lucy, I see
the same kind of emotions beginning to arise in your face and bosom, as
Lady G---- told us you shewed when you first saw your aunt at Dunstable.
My grandmamma! said I, I am in sight of the dear house that holds her: I
hope she is here. But I will not surprise her with my joy to see her.
Lie still, throbbing impatient heart.

But when the coach set us down at the inner gate, there, in the
outward-hall, sat my blessed grandmamma. The moment I beheld her, my
intended caution forsook me: I sprang by my aunt, a