him to the grave by our undutifulness.

I made Sampson announce our marriage in the papers. (My wife used to
hang down her head before the poor fellow afterwards.) I took Mrs.
Warrington back to my old lodgings in Bloomsbury, where there was plenty
of room for us, and our modest married life began. I wrote home a letter
to my mother in Virginia, informing her of no particulars, but only
that Mr. Lambert being about to depart for his government, I considered
myself bound in honour to fulfil my promise towards his dearest
daughter; and stated that I intended to carry out my intention of
completing my studies for the Bar, and qualifying myself for employment
at home, or in our own or any other colony. My good Mrs. Mountain
answered this letter, by desire of Madam Esmond, she said, who thought
that for the sake of peace my communications had best be conducted
that way. I found my relatives in a fury which was perfectly amusing
to witness. The butler's face, as he said, "Not at home," at my uncle's
house in Hill Street, was a blank tragedy that might have been studied
by Garrick when he sees Banque. My poor little wife was on my arm, and
we were tripping away, laughing at the fellow's accueil, when we came
upon my lady in a street stoppage in her chair. I took off my hat and
made her the lowest possible bow. I affectionately asked after my dear
cousins. "I--I wonder you dare look me in the face!" Lady Warrington
gasped out. "Nay, don't deprive me of that precious privilege!" says I.
"Move on, Peter," she screams to her chairman. "Your ladyship would not
impale your own husband's flesh and blood!" says I. She rattles up
the glass of her chair in a fury. I kiss my hand, take off my hat, and
perform another of my very finest bows.

Walking shortly afterwards in Hyde Park with my dearest companion, I
met my little cousin exercising on horseback with a groom behind him. As
soon as he sees us, he gallops up to us, the groom powdering afterwards
and bawling out, "Stop, Master Miles, stop!"

"I am not to speak to my cousin," says Miles, "but telling you to send
my love to Harry is not speaking to you, is it? Is that my new
cousin? I'm not told not to speak to her. I'm Miles, cousin, Sir Miles
Warrington Baronet's son, and you are very pretty!" "Now, duee now,
Master Miles," says the groom, touching his hat to us; and the boy
trots away laughing and looking at us over his shoulder. "You see how
my relations have determined to treat