gs's apartment, and remain'd there 'till I
heard they were gone, then return'd to my own; since which I have wrote
down to this period. Perhaps I should have ran on farther, if a summons
from Lady Powis did not call me off. I hope now to appear before her
with tolerable composure.--I am to go in the coach alone.--Well, it will
seem strange!--I shall think of my _late_ companion;--but time
reconciles every thing.--_This_ was my hope, when I lost my best friend,
the lov'd instructress of my infant years.--_Time_, all healing _Time!_
to _that_ I fear I must look forward, as a lenitive against many evils.

Two days!--only two days!--and then, adieu, my dear friends at the
Abbey;--adieu, my good Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings!--and you _too_, my
friendly-hearted Edmund, adieu!

Welcome,--doubly welcome, every moment which brings me nearer to that
when I shall kiss the hands of my honour'd Lady;--when I shall be able
to tell you, in person, ten thousand things too much for my pen;--when
you will kindly say, Tell me all, my Fanny, tell me every secret of your
heart.--Happy sounds!--pleasing sounds! these will be to your grateful
and affectionate

F. WARLEY.

LETTER XXV.

Miss WARLEY to the same.

_From Mr. Jenkings's_.

Now, my dear Lady, am I ready for my departure:--Sir James and Lady
Powis reconciled to my leaving them;--yet how can I call it reconciled,
when I tear myself from their arms as they weep over me?--Heavens! how
tenderly they love me!--Their distress, when I told them the day was
absolutely fix'd; when I told them the necessity of my going, _their_
distress nothing could equal but my _own_.--I thought my heart would
have sunk within me!--Surely, my Lady, my affection for them is not a
common affection;--it is _such_ as I hear your dear self;--it is _such_
as I felt for my revered Mrs. Whitmore.--I cannot dwell on this
subject--indeed I cannot.

I almost wish I had not kept the day so long a secret.--But suppose I
had not,--would their concern have been lessen'd?

I would give the world, if Mr. Jenkings was come home:--his wife is like
a frantic woman; and declares, if I persist in going, I shall break the
heart of her and her husband.--Why do they love me so well?--It cannot
be from any deserts of mine:--I have done no more than common gratitude
demands;--the affection I shew them is only the result of their own
kindness.--Benevolent hearts never place any thing to their own
account:--they look on ret