LETTER XVII

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Clouds are impending, and I know not whether they will clash together, and elicit lightning, or mingle into one, and descend in refreshing showers.

This morning, Montmorenci, the hostess, and myself, breakfasted early, and then went shopping. I purchased a charming scarf, a bonnet, two dresses, a diamond cross, and a pair of pearl ear-rings. His lordship borrowed a guinea from me, and then bought a small casket, which he presented to me in the handsomest manner.

We next visited Westminster Abbey; the first that I have ever seen, though I had read of thousands. To my great disappointment, I found in it no cowled monks with scapulars, and no veiled nuns with rosaries. Nothing but statues of statesmen and warriors, in stone wigs and marble regimentals.

Soon after we had returned home, Higginson entered my room, stealing, and with a look of terror.

'My mother presents her respectful compliments,' said he in a whisper, 'and begs you will honour her with your presence, that she may do herself the pleasure of saving you from destruction.'

'Tell me,' said I, with a look that pierced into his soul, 'which character do you mean to support on this occasion? that of my friend, or of an accomplice in the plot against me?'

Higginson looked aghast.

'As to your being a principal,' continued I, 'that is not likely; but I must ascertain if your object is to be—excuse me—an understrapping ruffian. Never fear, speak your mind candidly.'

'And I was writing verses on you all the morning, and it was for you that I clipped my eyebrows, and it was for you that I—dear me, dear me!' cried the poor man, and began whimpering like a child.

'Nay,' said I, 'if it is not your taste, that is another affair; but though I cannot countenance you as a villain, I will at least respect you as an honest man. I will, I assure you; so now lead me to your mother.'

We proceeded up stairs, and entered a garret; where his mother, a corpulent old lady, was lying in a fit of the gout.

Higginson having introduced us: 'Miss,' said she, 'I sent for you to tell you that I have just overheard your hostess, and an old gentleman (Betterton, I think she called him), planning something against you. They were in the next room, and thought I could not hear; but this I know, that he offered her fifty pounds, if she would assist him in obtaining you. And so, Miss, from all my son says of you, and sure enough he raves of you like mad, I thought you would wish to be saved from ruin.'

'Certainly, Madam,' answered I. 'At the same time, I must beg permission to remark, that you have destroyed half the interest of this intrigue against me, by forewarning me of it.'

'May be so, Miss,' said she. 'I have done my duty as a Christian, however.'

'Nay,' said I, 'do not suppose I resent your conduct, old lady. I am sure you meant all for the best, and I sincerely wish you health and happiness. Farewell.'

On returning to my room, I found Betterton there before me. He came to request that I would accept of a ticket for the masquerade, at the Pantheon: and he gave another to the landlady; who, he said, must accompany me thither: so 'tis clear that he means to decoy me from it. Unhappy girl! But how can I refuse going? A heroine, you know, never misses a masquerade: it is always the scene of her best adventure; and to say the truth, I cannot resist the temptation of so delightful an amusement. Now to consult about my character.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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