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BARFORD ABBEY,


A NOVEL:

IN A

SERIES of LETTERS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.


VOL. I.

LONDON:

Printed for T. CADELL, (Successor to Mr. MILLAR) in the Strand; and J.
PAYNE, in Pasternoster-Row.

MDCCLXVIII.




BARFORD ABBEY.



LETTER I.

Lady MARY SUTTON, at the German Spaw, to Miss WARLEY, in England.


How distressing, how heart-rending, is my dear Fanny's mournful
detail!--It lies before me; I weep over it!--I weep not for the departed
saint: no; it is for you, myself, for all who have experienced her
god-like virtues!--Was she not an honour to her sex? Did she not merit
rewards too great for this world to bestow?--Could the world repay her
innocence, her piety, her resignation? Wipe away, my best love, the mark
of sorrow from your cheek. Perhaps she may be permitted to look down: if
so, will she smile on those that grieve at her entering into the
fullness of joy?--Here a sudden death cannot be called dreadful. A life
like hers wanted not the admonitions of a sick-bed;--her bosom accounts
always clear, always ready for inspection, day by day were they held up
to the throne of mercy.--Apply those beautiful lines in the Spectator to
her; lines you have so often admir'd.--How silent thy passage; how
private thy journey; how glorious thy end! Many have I known more
famous, some more knowing, not one so innocent.--Hope is a noble support
to the drooping head of sorrow.--Though a deceiver, court her, I counsel
you;--she leads to happiness;--we shall bless her deceptions:--baffling
our enjoyments here, she teaches us to look up where every thing is
permanent, even bliss most exquisite.

Mr. Whitmore you never knew, otherwise would have wonder'd how his
amiable wife loiter'd so long behind.--Often she has wish'd to be
reunited to him, but ever avoided the subject in your presence.

Keep not from me her rich bequest:--_rich_ indeed,--her most valuable
treasure.--That I could fold you to my arms!--But hear me at a
distance;--hear me call you my beloved daughter,--and suppose what my
transports will be when I embrace an only child:--yes, you are mine,
till I deliver you up to a superior affection.

Lay aside, I conjure you, your fears of crossing the sea.--Mr. and Mrs.
Smith intend spending part of this winter at Montpelier: trust yourself
with them; I shall be there to receive you at the Hotel de Spence.

The season for the Spaw is almost at an end. My physicians forbid my
return to England till next autumn, else I would fly to comfort,--to
console my dearest Fanny,--We shall be happy together in France:--I can
love you the same in all places.

My banker has orders to remit you three hundred pounds;--but your power
is unlimited; it is impossible to say, my dear, how much I am in your
debt.--I have wrote my housekeeper to get every thing ready for your
reception:--consider her, and all my other servants, as your own.--I
shall be much disappointed if you do not move to the Lodge
immediately.--You shall not,--must not,--continue in a house where every
thing in and about it reminds you of so great a loss.--Miss West, Miss
Gardner, Miss Conway, will, at my request, accompany you thither.--The
Menagerie,--plantations, and other places of amusement, will naturally
draw them out;--you will follow mechanically, and by that means be kept
from indulging melancholy.--Go an-airing every day, unless you intend I
shall find my horses unfit for service:--why have you let them live so
long idle?

I revere honest Jenkings--he is faithful,--he will assist you with his
advice on all occasions.--Can there be a better resource to fly to, than
a heart governed by principles of honour and humanity?

Write, my dear, to Mrs. Smith, and let me know if the time is fixed for
their coming over.--Say you will comply with the request my heart is so
much set on;--say you will be one of the party.

My health and spirits are better:--the latter I support for your
sake;--who else do I live for?--Endeavour to do the same, not only for
me, but _others_, that one day will be as dear to you as you are to

Your truly affectionate,

M. SUTTON.




LETTER II.

Miss WARLEY to Lady MARY SUTTON.

_Barford Abbey_.


BARFORD ABBEY! _Yes_, my dearest Lady,--I date from Barford Abbey: a
house I little thought ever to have seen, when I have listened hours to
a description of it from Mr. Jenkings.--What are houses,--what palaces,
in competition with _that_ honour, _that_ satisfaction, I received by
your Ladyship's last letter!--The honour all must acknowledge;--the
satisfaction is not on the surface,--_it centers in the heart_.--I feel
too much to express any thing.--One moment an orphan; next the adopted
child of Lady Mary Sutton.--What are titles, except ennobled by virtue!
_That_ only makes a coronet fit graceful on the head;--_that_ only is
the true ornament of greatness.

Pardon my disobedience.--Can there be a stronger command than your
request?--But, my Lady, I must have died,--my life _must_ have been the
sacrifice, had I gone to the Lodge.--The windows opposite, the windows
of that little mansion where I spent nineteen happy years with my
angelic benefactress,--could it be borne?--Your Ladyship's absence
too;--what an aggravation;--The young ladies you kindly propose for my
companions, though very amiable, could not have shut my eyes, or
deaden'd my other senses.

Now let me account for being at Barford Abbey.--Was Mr. Jenkings my
father, I think I could not love him more; yet when he press'd me to
return with him to Hampshire, I was doubtful whether to consent, till
your Ladyship's approbation of him was confirmed in so particular a
manner.--His son an only one;--the fine fortune he must possess;--these
were objections not only of _mine_, but, I believe, of my dear,
dear--Oh! my Lady, I cannot yet write her name.--Often has she check'd
Mr. Jenkings, when he has solicited to take me home with him:--her very
looks spoke she had something to fear from such a visit.--She loved
me;--the dear angel loved me with maternal affection, but her partiality
never took place of noble, generous sentiments.--Young people, she has
frequently said, are, by a strict intimacy, endeared to each other.
This, I doubt not, was her motive for keeping me at a distance.--She
well knew my poor expectations were ill suited to his large ones.--I
know what was her opinion, and will steadily adhere to it.

Edmund, to do him common justice, is a desirable youth:--such a one as I
can admire his good qualities, without another with than to imitate
them.--Monday, the tenth, I took my leave of Hillford Down, and, after a
melancholy journey, arrived Tuesday evening at Mr. Jenkings's.--Nothing
did I enjoy on the road;--in spight of my endeavours, tears stream'd
from my eyes incessantly;--even the fine prospects that courted
attention, pass'd unnotic'd.--My good conductor strove to draw me off
from gloomy subjects, but in vain, till we came within a few miles of
his house; then of a sudden I felt a serenity, which, for some time, has
been a stranger to my breast;--a serenity I cannot account for.

_Mrs. Jenkings!_--never shall I forget her humanity. She flew to the
chaise the instant it stopp'd, receiv'd me with open arms, and conducted
me to the parlour, pouring out ten thousand welcomes, intermingled with
fond embraces.--She is, I perceive, one of those worthy creatures, who
make it a point to consider their husbands friends as their own; in my
opinion, the highest mark of conjugal happiness.

Plac'd in a great chair next the fire, every one was busied in something
or other for my refreshment.--One soul,--one voice,--one manner, to be
seen in the father,--mother,--son:--they look not on each other but with
a smile of secret satisfaction. _To me_ their hearts speak the same
expressive language;--their house,--their dress,--their words, plainly
elegant.--Envy never stops at such a dwelling;--nothing there is fit for
her service:--no pomp,--no grandeur,--no ostentation.--I slept sweetly
the whole night;--sweetly!--not one disagreeable idea intruded on my
slumbers.

Coming down in the morning, I found breakfast on the table, linen white
as snow, a large fire,--every thing that speaks cleanliness, content,
and plenty.--The first thing in a house which attracts my notice is the
fire;--I conclude from that, if the hearts of the inhabitants are warm
or cold.--Our conversation was interesting;--it might have lasted, for
aught I know, till dinner, had it not been interrupted by the entrance
of Sir James and Lady Powis.--I knew Mr. Jenkings was their steward, but
never expected they came to his house with such easy freedom.--We arose
as they entered:--I was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings appear
confused;--in my opinion, their visitors accosted them more like
_equals_ than _dependants_.

Your Ladyship cannot imagine how greatly I was prepossessed in their
favour even before they spoke.--In their manner was something that
struck me excessively;--few--very few--can express the nameless beauties
of grace,--never to be seen but in a carriage sweetly humble.

Lady Powis seated herself opposite to me.--We called, said she,
addressing Mr. Jenkings, to inquire what was become of you, fearing your
Oxfordshire friends had stolen you from us;--but you have made up for
your long absence, if this is the young lady, bowing to me, your wife
told us was to return with you.--A politeness so unexpected,--so
deliver'd,--visibly affected me:--I sat silent, listening for the reply
Mr. Jenkings would make.

Pardon me, my Lady! pardon me, Miss Warley! said the good man,--I am a
stranger to punctilio;--I see my error:--I should have acquainted your
Ladyship before with the name of this dear young Lady; I should have
said she is an honour to her friends.--Need I tell Miss Warley, Sir
James and Lady Powis are present:--I hope the deportment of their
_servant_ has confirmed it;--I hope it has.

Sir James kindly took his hand, and, turning to me, said, Don't believe
him, Madam, he is not our servant;--he has been our _friend_ forty
years; we flatter ourselves he deems not _that_ servitude.

Not your _servant!_--not your _dependant!_--not your _servant_, Sir
James!--and was running on when her Ladyship interrupted him.

Don't make me angry, Jenkings;--don't pain me;--hear the favour I have
to ask, and be my advocate:--it is with Miss Warley I want you to be my
advocate.--Then addressing herself to me, Will you, Madam, give me the