by the door of my apartment:--on which I ventur'd to
give another scream.--The door was instantly burst open; and whilst an
elderly Gentleman advanc'd towards me, full of surprize, the detested
brute slipp'd away.--This Gentleman, my good deliverer, was no other
than your Ladyship's banker, who when he was acquainted with my name,
insisted on taking me to Town in his own coach, where he was returning
from a visit he had made at Salisbury--I did not ask, neither do I know
what became of Smith; but I suppose he will set out with his wife
immediately for Dover.--Thank God! I am not of the party--How I pity
poor Miss Frances Walsh, a young Lady who, he told me, was waiting at
his house in Town to go over with them.--I am but just arriv'd at Mr.
Delves's house.--Mr. and Mrs. Delves think with me, that the character
of the _unworthy_ Smith should not be expos'd for the sake of his
_worthy_ wife.--The family here are all amiable.--I could say a great
deal more; but my head aches dreadfully.--This I must add, I have
consented, at the tender intreaties of Mr. and Mrs. Delves, to remain
with them 'till a proper opportunity offers to throw myself at your
Ladyship's feet.--My head grows worse;--I must lay down my pen.--This
bad man has certainly frighten'd me into a fever.

[The following lines were added after Miss Powis's recovery]

I hope, my dear Lady, before this you have Mr. Delves's letter;--if so,
you know I have had the small-pox.--You know too I am out of
danger.--How can I be thankful enough for so many escapes!--This is the
first day I have been able to hold a pen.--I am permitted to write no
more than the name of your honour'd and affectionate

F. WARLEY.

LETTER XXXIX

Captain RISBY to the Honourable GEORGE

_Barford Abbey_.

Will all the thanks,--all the gratitude,--the parents blessings,--their
infinity of joy, be contain'd in one poor sheet?--No:--Was I to repeat
half,--only half of what they send, you, I might write on for ever.--One
says you shall be their son;--another, their brother;--a third, that you
are a man most favour'd of heaven--but all agree, as a reward for your
virtues you are impower'd to heal afflictions--in short, they want to
make me think you can make black white--But enough for the vanity of one
man.

I dread your coming to the Abbey.--We that are here already, shall only,
then, appear like pismires:--but let me caution my friend not to think
his head will touch the clouds.