dge loved another man.
This last article, I own, piqued me more than all her preceding
civilities. The gentleman she addressed herself to had a very slight
acquaintance with me, and might possibly go away in the opinion that she
had been confidante in some very notorious affair of mine. However, I
made her no answer at the time, but you may imagine I laid up these
things in my heart; and the first assembly I had the honour to meet her
at, with a meek tone of voice, asked her how I had deserved so much
abuse at her hands, which I assured her I would never return. She denied
it in the spirit of lying; and in the spirit of folly owned it at
length. I contented myself with telling her she was very ill advised,
and thus we parted. But two days ago, when Sir Geoffrey Kneller's
pictures were to be sold, she went to my sister Gower, and very civily
asked if she intended to bid for your picture; assuring her that, if she
did, she would not offer at purchasing it. You know crimp and quadrille
incapacitate that poor soul from ever buying any thing; but she told me
this circumstance; and I expected the same civility from Mrs. Murray,
having no way provoked her to the contrary. But she not only came to the
auction, but with all possible spite bid up the picture, though I told
her that, if you pleased to have it, I would gladly part with it to you,
though to no other person. This had no effect upon her, nor her malice
any more on me than the loss of ten guineas extraordinary, which I paid
upon her account. The picture is in my possession, and at your service
if you please to have it. She went to the masquerade a few nights
afterwards, and had the good sense to tell people there that she was
very unhappy in not meeting me, being come there on purpose to abuse me.
What profit or pleasure she has in these ways I cannot find out. This I
know, that revenge has so few joys for me, I shall never lose so much
time as to undertake it."

So early as 1721, Lady Mary, writing to Lady Mar, mentions that "the
most considerable incident that has happened a good while, was the
ardent affection that Mrs. Hervey and her dear spouse[7] took to me.
They visited me twice or thrice a day, and were perpetually cooing in my
rooms. I was complaisant a great while; but (as you know) my talent has
never lain much that way. I grew at last so weary of those birds of
paradise, I fled to Twickenham, as much to avoid their persecutions as
for my own health, which i