Appearance is against them: in a series of letters, in three volumes, by the author of Emily Herbert, or perfidy punished. ... [pt.3]

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- [bythesameauthor]

- LETTER the Thirty-second. Miss ROCHLEY, TO Miss LENOX.

- LETTER the Thirty-third. Sir JOHN WESTBURY, TO Sir JAMES HENDERSON, Bart.

- LETTER the Thirty-fourth. Sir JAMES HENDERSON▪ TO Sir JOHN WESTBURY, Bart▪

- LETTER the Thirty-fifth. Sir JOHN WESTBURY, TO Sir JAMES HENDERSON, Bart.

- LETTER the Thirty-sixth. Miss ROCHLEY, TO Miss LENOX.

- LETTER the Thirty-seventh. Miss WESTBURY, TO Colonel ROCHLEY.

- LETTER the Thirty-eighth. Miss ROCHLEY, TO Miss LENOX.

- LETTER the Thirty-ninth. The same to the same.

- LETTER the Fortieth. The same to the same.

- LETTER the Forty-first. Lady TEMPLETON, TO Miss LENOX.

APPEARANCE IS AGAINST THEM.

FINIS.

APPEARANCE IS AGAINST THEM, IN A SERIES OF LETTERS, IN THREE VOLUMES, BY THE AUTHOR OF EMILY HERBERT, OR PERFIDY PUNISHED.

VOL. III.

LONDON: Printed for THOMAS JONES, at his Circulating Library, Bridge-Street, Westminster.

M. DCC. LXXXVI.

(Just Published) EMILY HERBERT, OR PERFIDY PUNISHED.

THREE VOLS. PRICE 7s. 6d.

LETTER the Thirty-second.
Miss ROCHLEY, TO Miss LENOX.

LONDON.

I Have had a long conversation with my uncle, my dear Harriot, on the subject of a certain lord—but let that rest a while, that I may go on methodically.

Orlando, as I guessed at the conclusion of my last, left me in order to follow his friend Lord Templeton, for this purpose he bent his steps towards Mrs. Bellmour's, and met him just coming out of her house.

Well (cried my brother) what news my lord? have you had an interview with the agreeable Miss Jane Brown?

First tell me, cried his lordship, what have I to hope? what says your charming sister, did you succeed in pleading my cause? will she deign to see me? to pardon me? to—

Not so fast, my good friend, I have said all that could be said in your favour (answered my brother) Isabella, conscious of her innocence is a good deal hurt at your conduct, she has a proper share of pride my Lord—however you may possibly prove a better advocate than I have been.

Shall I then be admitted to the happiness of seeing her, have you my dear Rochley gained that point for me? Ah! if I am so fortunate, I will not dispair!

But I shall (said my brother, interrupting him, and smiling) of ever having my question answered, if you go on at this rate, I ask your lordship once more, have you seen that insernal witch or not?

Step in with me (said my lord) for they were by this time at his door, and you shall hear every particular.

Having desired to speak with Mrs. Bellmour, she came to me immediately, when I begged to know if Miss Jane Brown was at home?

I believe she is my lord, was the answer, wondering, I presume what my business could be with the girl, and perhaps fancying, I had now cast my eyes upon her, having failed in my endeavours to succeed with the lovely Miss Rochley—she rung the bell, however (without requiring any explanation) and ordered Miss Brown to make her appearance.

In a few minutes in she came, but no sooner did she see me, than the roses left her cheeck and gave place to the lilly—or in other words more suitable to the subject, she grew pale as death, and looked like the picture of horror and dismay.

Taking her epistle from my pocket, and presenting it to her view (though not with the greatest composure I must own, when I reflected on the trouble and misery she had so knowingly and wickedly been the cause of) pray young woman, said I, can you recollect doing me the honor of sending me this?

My lord, replied she (with much hesitation and apparent distress) I am not surprised at the question—I expected it from the moment I heard of the change in Miss Rochley's situation—I did send it my lord, I indeed wrote it; but severely have I reproached myself for being prevailed upon to become instrumental, in so base, so villainous a transaction, to say I was bribed for doing it, but adds to the crime; I will not, therefore attempt to plead that in extenuation of it.

Yet thus much I must beg leave to say, I was a stranger then to the lady, and was persuaded to believe some of the shocking circumstances contained in that letter were true—I now know the whole to be false, and am unfeignedly sorry for what I have done, lady Beningfield, my lord, had art enough to—

Lady Beningfield! (exclaimed I)

Yes, my lord, it was herself, who gave me the letter to copy, swearing in the most solemn manner, the chief articles were matters of fact, that it was with a view to serve your lordship, she wished you to receive it, and that if I complied, she would not only give me fifty guineas in hand, but be my friend as long as she lived.

I was too easily prevailed upon—I blush to confess it—but am somewhat consoled by the reflection that it has produced none of those mischievous effects for which it was cruelly intended.

I once had thoughts of leaving London, in order to avoid this humiliating acknowledgment; but when I considered that by so doing, I should effectually screen the person who most deserved to be exposed, I determined to wait the issue, and if questioned, which I could not doubt I should be, relate the whole truth as the only attonement I could possibly make.

I have now done so, my lord—I am conscious I deserve your contempt only—and from you madam (turning to the astonished Mrs. Bellmour) I have nothing to expect, but dismission from your house.

We were both so amazed at what we had heard, that 'twas some time before either of us could utter a syllable.

At last, however, great your guilt has been, said I, there is some merit in your so candidly confessing it, your manner of doing it too, is much in your favour, I therefore spare my reproaches—nay, I will do more, I will even intreat Mrs. Bellmour to follow my example.

Ah! my lord, cried the poor girl, bursting into tears—this is too much, I was prepared to bear your indignation, but this unhoped for generosity over-powers me.

She was now near fainting with the violence of her agitation; and so ill, I was absolutely tempted to pity her, wretch as she had been! and wretch as she had made me.

In short, before I left the house, I had prevailed on Mrs. Bellmour to give her hopes of pardon, and that she would continue her in her employment.

And now, Rochley—what think you of that diabolical fury, Lady Beningfield?

Exactly what I thought before you begun your story, for Isabella guessed it could be the work of no other.

All I now wish is, that we could hit on some punishment adequate to the heninousness of the offence, I would give half I am worth, could I contrive to expose her as she deserves.

By Heavens! my dear friend (said his lordship) I know nothing on earth I would not sacrifice for that purpose, except your charming sister—but we may yet fall on some measures for that purpose— 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 at present I can think only of that most injured, most adorable of women, tell me now, my dear Rochley, when may I hope to throw myself at her feet.

Your lordship I fear must first throw yourself at those of my uncle, for to tell you the truth, I am apt to believe you will find in him the greatest bar to your felicity, he is extremely fond of his niece, and does not think the man lives, who can deserve her, particularly him, who has presumed, even for a moment to doubt her character, though with such seeming proof—he will not easily pardon your giving credit to the story, though I confess it was so plausibly framed, that I cannot (partial as I am to my sister) wholly condemn you.

But do not despair—in me you have a firm friend, and but for this cursed affair, could not I think have failed to find one in the breast of your (at present) rather angry, fair one, I told you she has a proper share of pride, that pride is a good deal piqued—however we must try what can be done.

I will now go and inform my uncle of what has just past, in order to pave the way for your lordship's reception—he was partial to you once, and doubt not in a short time he will become so again, so adieu.

Thus saying, they parted, and Orlando came home, where finding my uncle, and your Isabella tete a tete, he gave us the above particulars.

I like his behaviour to the girl, said he, (my uncle, I mean) there was something generous in that, the poor devil could not resist a bribe, her letters have often found it too powerful for their honesty—she is beneath our notice; but that d—nd lump of quality, by Heavens! I'll have her sent to bridwell, she shall stand in the pillory! and I will hire a mob to treat her as she deserves.

We could not forbear laughing at the punishment he had found out for her, my imagination beging pretty lively, it at once set her ladyship before me in that pleasant elevation.

May I presume to hope, Sir, said my brother, that all things considered, you do not think his lordship quite so much to blame as he at first appeared to be.

You may presume what you please, Orlando, (said my uncle) but had his attachment been as violent as he took pains to persuade me it was he could not have been such a puppy, as to be imposed upon by such a confounded improbable story.

The fellow must either be a fool, or a knave; but I am inclined to suspect the latter.

It is now his interest to pretend he cannot live without my poor girl, and so he is come back to try what he can do to obtain her.

No, no! had he married her, when he believed she was not worth a groat, I should have had a tolerable opinion of him, but now—who will thank him?

But, pray my dear Sir, were you not at one time fully convinced, not only of his sincerity? but of his honorable intentions? (said Orlando) had my sister acted as many others in her situation would have done, had she permitted him to visit her, have you any doubt that he would gladly have married her friendless, and pennyless as she then appeared to be?

This rather staggered him, Harriot, for that he once believed so, and had every reason to believe it, he well knew.

What says my Isabella to it? turning from my brother to me, speak freely, tell me sincerely whether you think he ought to be pardoned for his monstrous credulity? as for your brother, he must be looked upon as prejudiced in favor of his friend.

Ah! my dear Sir! not more so, I am sure, than in favor of his sister.

O, ho!—very well!—I see how matters are likely to go, that expressive ah! was not for nothing, and so you can really find in your heart to think, he is neither a fool, nor knave; but a very handsome, and very insinuating fellow?

Come out with it my love, another, ah! my dear Sir! (kindly taking my hand, and smiling in my face) and his lordship's business is done.

Indeed you mistake me, Sir, all I meant was, to justify my brother, I am sure he would be as tenacious of my honor as I could be myself, never would he, I am certain, pardon any man, whether his friend or foe, who should presume to offer an insult to me.

Was that all, my dear child? then I mistook you intirely—well then, we are not to pardon him it seems, yet I could have sworn by a certain expression in your countenance a few minutes ago, you were more than half inclined •o be merciful.

We cannot prevail, you see Orlando, so you may tell his lordship, he need not take the trouble of coming here to dinner to morrow, Isabella forbids it, and she is mistress here.

My brother was delighted to find he had carried his point, perhaps I too was not violently displeased; but 'tis certain we were both highly entertained, and diverted by the drollery of my uncle's manner.

I soon after left them to settle the business at their leisure, and with a heart as light as a feather, sat down to repeat the whole to you.

And so Harriot, I am on the point of receiving this same lord, who has made such a bustle amongst us, as a declared lover—well my dear, he must e'en try what he can do in that capacity, if he can contrive to gain my heart, I have no objections; but observe, he has not yet done it, though, that he has occasioned a few palpitations in it now and then, I cannot but own—being the friend of my Orlando is no small recommendation, let me tell you; that circumstance will go a great way with me.

Don't you enjoy the idea of Lady Beningfield's standing in the pillory? it would make a capital picture.

Adieu, my dear friend—I must now dress, as we are engaged to spend the evening at Mr. Harcourt's.

To morrow!—aye child, to morrow! will be a day indeed! big with the fate of "Templeton and Isabella!" ah! these names will by no means do—too long by half a hundred syllables, the speech is ruined by them—'tis a pity, Harriot, as I think 'tis my first attempt in heroics.

Once more adieu, I am, and shall be ever, most affectionately your's, ISABELLA ROCHLEY.

LETTER the Thirty-third.
Sir JOHN WESTBURY, TO Sir JAMES HENDERSON, Bart.

Westbury-Halll.
DEAR JAMES,

YOU must, before this, have undoubtedly heard of the sudden and most astonishing transformation in Rochley's circumstances, owing to the unexpected appearance of a rich uncle from India, who had for many years been supposed dead; but now, to my chagrin and bitter disappointment, "as I could wish the fellow steeped in poverty to the very lip," is this said uncle returned loaded with wealth, which he takes pains to display with all the pomp and splendor of eastern pride and magnificence, in order (as I am told) to do honor to the man, whom of all others, I hold in the greatest abhorrence.

Now Caroline will in a very short time be of age, and of course her own mistress, the consequence of which is easily foreseen, as she will then most assuredly give both herself and fortune to him, who has so long reigned over her infatuated heart.

Sooner than this event should take place, I would see her consigned to the extremest penury and distress.

One way there is to frustrate, and perhaps render abortive their vile machinations, and but one.

You have often told me you liked the girl, and was desirous of marrying her, you have indeed offered such terms as proves you are in earnest, if this inclination still continues, I have a proposal to make you, which cannot, I think, fail insuring her your's, if you coincide with my plan, which is this.

If you, James, will agree to play the Knight errant for once, and carry her off to Scotland, I will undertake to put her fairly into your hands, to accomplish which, I have a scheme, that I am morally certain will prove successful.

I would see that fellow d—nd before he should marry a sister of mine (he will triumph sufficiently as it is) say the word, therefore, have you love enough to engage in this enterprize, have you also a sufficient stock of courage for it?—she has a cursed deal of the woman in her temper, let me tell you, that is to say, a devil of a spirit, so you must expect to be finely rated, when she learns the trick we have played her.

But what of that? drive on without heeding her tongue, your designs are honorable as they call it, what would she have more?

You cannot be less than three days upon the road, she will be tired of scolding before you reach the end of your journey—the larum cannot last for ever, and when you have reached it, send instantly for the blacksmith, alias the parson, who will •etter you both fast enough in the hammering of an anvil.

What if she proves restive? you'll perhaps ask, what's next to be done?

Why lock the door, and order the fellow to read the ceremony in her hearing, then whip her into the chaise again, swear she is to all intents and purposes your wife, or at least so much so as to prevent her being lawfully the wife of any other.

I her guardian will on your return confirm the union, this will terrify her, if any thing can, and finding no better may be, she may chance to think, the man she does not like better than none at all.

What say you to this? have you a mind to try the experiment? I again, swear by all that's sacred, Rochley shall never have her, if I can by any possible means prevent it, she deserves to be punished for daring to think of marrying a fellow who had nearly murdered her brother.

Send me a line to let me know your mind; take care however, your messenger delivers it into my own hand. I have a shrewed suspision, a former one of your's (which was indeed intended for her perusal) fell into her's, though she denied it.

We have no time to lose, so be quick in your resolutions, remember you are to be upon honor—you marry her James—no tricks upon travellers—nothing less than matrimony, mind that, she is my sister,

Your's ever, JOHN WESTBURY.

LETTER the Thirty-fourth.
Sir JAMES HENDERSON▪ TO Sir JOHN WESTBURY, Bart▪

DEAR JACK,

I Have just received your's, I have often told you, and with great truth, that I would give half my estate to possess your sister, as I really love her.

Your scheme is a wild one; but if you absolutely think it practicable, I am your man.

It is a new whim to run away with a girl by the consent, nay by the advice of her guardian.

It will be a devilish job I fear, but 'tis a comfort the tongue of a woman does not wound mortally, so one may live to get over it.

I enjoy the idea of jockeying Rochley too, who thinks himself absolutely sure of her.

Depend upon my honor, the day she is mine, I make a bonfire with your bond.

Let me know how I am to proceed, and you shall find me ready at a moments warning.

Do you intend to be of our party Jack? I think that would clinch the business—but do as you like, so as you grant us your forgiveness, when at our return from the North, we throw ourselves at your feet to demand it.

Should she have scruples in regard to the insufficiency of the chains we shall be confined in, I will marry her again when we come back with all my soul.

What can a fellow do more? but she may perhaps rather wish to knock off those, she brings with her than straighten them, you'll take care of that however.

I send this by Frank, who has instructions to deliver it with his own hand into yours, for fear of accidents.

I now only wait for the word of command, which I shall impatiently expect, so my dear brother elect, farewell,

JAMES HENDERSON.

LETTER the Thirty-fifth.
Sir JOHN WESTBURY, TO Sir JAMES HENDERSON, Bart.

Westbury-Hall.
DEAR JAMES,

BE upon the road to Stamford next Friday, about five o'clock in the afternoon with your post-chaise, &c. &c. I have agreed to take my sister to spend a few days at Lord Sandford's, 'twas this intended visit put the scheme into my head.

One of my horses shall fall lame, but not till I perceive you at a proper distance, then let your carriage advance with the blinds up, as if empty—I will ask the postillion to convey us the few miles we have to go, you may prepare him to agree to it.

Sit snug in the corner and say nothing, till I pop her into the chaise, to this she can make no possible objections, not suspecting any trick.

When in, I, instead of following her, shut the door, wish you a good journey, give your horses a farewell smack, and then getting into my own, drive quietly home again, (there's a fine contrivance for you).

No use in my going with you, none in the world—my blessing and pardon shall be ready, when you return to ask it.

Don't fail—be punctual to the time, and my life for it we carry the day,

Your's as before, JOHN WESTBURY.

LETTER the Thirty-sixth.
Miss ROCHLEY, TO Miss LENOX.

LONDON.

WELL Harriot, the important interview, so long desired, so ardently solicited, is at length happily over—and all things are en train.

Should his lordship on a farther acquaintance find, or which is exactly the same thing to him, continue to fancy, I really do possess all those perfections his passion had decorated me with, 'tis not difficult to guess what may in due time be the consequence.

For to tell you a secret, I actually believe he possesses many 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 more than I had given him credit for.

As to his person, 'tis infinitely more elegant than I should have insisted on, I never—no, never beheld one half so graceful, so completely, what a man ought to be, excepting my brother, who is in my eyes equally accomplished.

But, though this I grant, is no small recommendation, yet had I found his mind and manner, did not deserve so finished a casket, believe me it would not have produced the smallest effect.

A handsome coxcomb is of all beings to me, the most unsufferable, I have too long had a pattern of excellence before me in my dear Orlando to be easily pleased; however, I begin to think Lord Templeton bids fair to succeed.

My uncle was for the first half hour of his visit rather stately and wavering in his opinion, the idea of his having dared to think lightly of his Isabella, (whatever appearances might be against her) still dwelt on his mind.

He could not forbear a few severe hints on the subject; but my Lord was so attentive to him, made use of so many obliging conciliating expressions in regard to his past conduct, &c. &c. that before the second course was over, I could plainly see he was intirely restored to his good graces, and by the time they had finished their claret, and joined me in the drawing-room to take their coffee, 'tis hard to say which appeared the greatest favourite, his lordship or me.

My beloved Orlando is more delighted than I can express, to think the very man of his choice should prove to be the man of mine, for this will certainly be the end of it, and a very agreeable ending too, Harriot, don't you think so my dear?

I had some thoughts of being more circumstantial, more minute than I have been: I meant to have told you, as well as I could, how we both looked, when introduced to each other in form; but I have changed my mind—'twas all very fine—very pretty indeed, as the old song says.

Amongst many other questions in the course of the day, I asked my lord, who the elegant creature was, who was with him and the amiable Lady Beningfield, the first time he saw me?

Guess Orlando's surprise and mine, Harriot, on his answering Miss Westbury.

He now told us, she had found so striking a resemblance between my brother and me, that had not my name of Beverly convinced her to the contrary, she could have sworn I was his sister—drole enough, is it not?

Ah! my charming Miss Rochley ▪continued his lordship▪ but for that unfortunate name, I never should have appeared to you the guilty wretch you must have thought me.

Nor I neither, my lord (smiling) and therefore I shall detest it as long as I live,

And don't you begin to find a kind of dislike growing upon you Isabella (said my uncle with one of his arch looks) for that of Rochley too?—young women are very apt to tire of the name they have been known by eighteen or nineteen years.

And do they never tire of that they are simple enough to exchange it for? my dear Sir—for unless you can assure me they do not, I will be in no hurry to part from mine.

But if I can assure you of it, (laughing) we are at liberty to suppose you do not care how soon that event happens, is it not so my dear?—don't you think her speech implies as much, my lord? what say you Orlando?

I desire they will take care how they presume to put a forced construction on any words of mine, you my dear Sir, I allow to divert yourself at your Isabella's expence; but I would advise them to beware how they attempt to be witty on such a subject.

See what it is to be a favorite, (cried Orlando) my uncle may say what he pleases with impunity, while my friend and I here are only at liberty to think what we please, was not this very saucy, Harriot?

Never will I, said my lord (taking my hand) presume either to say or think any thing that can be displeasing to Miss Rochley.

Aye, aye, this is fine talking, (said my uncle) but make no rash vows my lord, you do not yet know her so well as I do, at present you no doubt take her for a downright divinity, an angel—but you will find her an artful insinuating little baggage for all that.

I know not what you may take her for, replied his lordship, my dear Sir, but this I know, I can form no higher idea of felicity, than to take her as she is.

Well, well, when I am tired of her company, perhaps I may make you a present of her.

Not till then? ah, Mr. Douglas!

She will not by that time be worth your acceptance (cried my uncle, interrupting him and laughing) is not that what you was going to say? speak honestly.

Indeed he shall not speak honestly, I hate to hear disagreeable truths.

Apropos my lord, pray have you been to pay your respects to your good friend lady Beningfield? I wish your making so long a visit here, may not tempt her ladyship to pay me a second.

Let her try that joke, cried my uncle, (interrupting me, and much disturbed by the recollection of what had passed) by the lord! she shall meet with a warm reception, by heavens! I'll trim her better than ever she was trimmed in her life, though it may not do for a birth-day suit.

We all smiled at his energy, and my lord replied, he had called the moment he found the infinite obligations she had laid him under, in order to thank her as she deserved; but was informed she had just set off for Dover in her way to Paris.

Where I sincerely hope she will never arrive, cried my uncle, for I think the packet can hardly escape sinking that carries such a load of iniquity.

May the first news I hear be, that she is at the bottom of the ocean, yet the poor fish will be sorely disappointed, since they must be confoundedly hungry indeed, before they will venture to attack such a mass of paint and corruption.

We again smiled at the drollery of his expressions, (though in fact they were very severe) and at the emotions with which he never fails to speak of her ladyship, nor can one be surprised, for by what I can gather from some hints Orlando has dropped, he has not escaped the venom of her tongue in the letter before mentioned, any more than I have done—the contents must be horrid I fancy, since I have not yet been able to obtain a sight of it.

I took an opportunity to ask my lord, whether he had ever sent a person to enquire my name.

He owned he had—adding, that having seen me at my window two or three times, he was so struck with my appearance, that he could not resist it; but after meeting me so unexpectedly in Mrs. Bellmour's appartment, he found he was no longer master of his heart.

What followed, Harriot, you already know, and what is still likely to follow, you may without the second sight venture to guess.

Having now brought matters this length, I must bid you adieu. I have a thousand engagements upon my hands, a thousand things to see in this great metropolis, to which I am at present intirely a stranger, his lordship, I presume (being almost one of the family) will contrive to give us his company in all our future parties.

My affairs being now brought nearly to a crisis (as I said before) our next care must be to conclude those of my dear Orlando, engaged as he has been in mine, he has not, however, quite neglected his own, the sprightly epistles he frequently receives from his beloved, prevents despair.

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In a few short weeks, Miss Westbury will, I fancy, give him convincing proofs he need be under no apprehensions of losing her—short I call them, but he makes a different calculation I presume.

Farewell, my dearest Harriot, believe me at all times, and in every situation of life, your most affectonate and sincere friend,

ISABELLA ROCHLEY.

LETTER the Thirty-seventh.
Miss WESTBURY, TO Colonel ROCHLEY.

Sandford-House.

AS I believe, my dear Rochley, you interest yourself more in my affairs than any other person. I am now going to give you an account of an adventure that I have lately been concerned in, which though I can now laugh at, and allow you to laugh with me, was by no means agreeable, or pleasant at the time.

You was terribly out of luck my good friend, not to find yourself ready on the spot, (Don Quixote like) to deliver your poor Dulcinea from the hands of the base ravisher, who made so bold an attempt to rob you of her for ever.

Sadly out of luck I say, for had you on so important an occasion rescued me from him, I could not have done less according to all the laws of romance, than have rewarded you with my lilly hand to kiss at least, if not to keep.

But you, I suppose, while your poor terrified Caroline was in such a distressful dilemma, was flirting away with some of your London Belles, not so much as bestowing a single sigh upon her—was it so Orlando?

To tell you a secret, did I believe as much, you should not be treated with the following delectable history.

You must know my brother, and I had promised to spend a week or ten days at Lord Sanford's, near Stamford, and you know without my telling you, his dear and worthy friend and companion Sir James Henderson, has long fancied himself most violently in love with your humble servant, a thing I absolutely deny, fully convinced he is as incapable of love as the pen I write with.

Be that as it will, the creature had set his foolish heart on making me his wife—my brother was, if possible, more desirous he should succeed than he was, for reasons best known to himself, though shrewdly suspected by somebody else.

Thus stood matters, when we set off on our intended visit.

I had observed my plotting brother made a more than usual bustle on the occasion, (considering it was but a short journey) but little dreamt I was the cause.

Well, away we drove—when behold, just as we had got within a mile or two of my Lord's seat, one of our horses fell lame—or rather I presume the postillion had orders to say so, for I believe it was no more lame than I was.

I had before we set out, expressed my surprise at my brother's going with two only, he gave some silly reason for it, I forget what.

I then, however said, had you as usual had four horses Sir John, this disaster would not have been of any great consequence, as we could have finished our journey with two; but now I suppose we must enjoy the pleasure of tripping it on foot.

At that moment, an empty post-chaise, as I then thought it appeared in view, coming towards us—he called to the driver, who stopping, was asked, if he could convey us to Lord Sandford.

The lad replied, he had just carried his master there, who he durst say would not object to it.

I was very well pleased at being so conveniently accommodated, and followed my brother, who giving me his hand, put me into the carriage; but instead of getting in himself, to my astonishment hastily shut the door, and told the fellow to drive on.

I now found it was not as I had supposed an empty vehicle, for to my utter confusion and amazement, I beheld my torment, Sir James Henderson squeezed into one corner of it.

Merciful Heaven! (cried I) who are you? what am I to think of all this? where is my brother? how came you here? these interrogations were all in a moment, as I was almost out of breath with surprise—the horrid wretch now made an attempt to take my hand, which I found means to prevent with a look of ineffable contempt.

Hear me patiently, my adorable Miss Westbury, (said the creature) and I will immediately explain this mistery.—

That I have long and ardently loved you, you well know, that your brother approves my passion, you also know—I had every reason to fear you would soon bestow that dear, that invaluable, tho' cruelly withdrawn hand on another; on one, who though more fortunate in possessing the inestimable treasures of your esteem and affection, is not perhaps more worthy of those blessings than him, you have so repeatedly, so scornfully rejected.

I could not bear the thought of being robbed of a felicity I value more than my life, and have therefore had recourse to this innocent stratagem to get you into my power, as the only method to overcome that unaccountable aversion you have so unjustly entertained for one, whose passion will end but with his existence.

We are now, my dearest creature on the road to Scotland, where as soon as we arrive, I swear to make you honorably mine, by every solemn tie,

Ah! Heaven forbid! (interrupting his vile harrangue, at the same time wondering at my own patience in listening so long to it.) have you then the vanity, the assurance to believe the being honorably your's, would be a sufficient reparation for this horrid, this unpardonable insult.

No Sir! do not deceive yourself, be assured I would sooner perish than be your's at any time, or on any terms.

If these were my sentiments, when in my brother's house; can you be absurd enough to imagine the affronting usage I have received will alter them, and render me more complying? or that you can possibly force me to marry you contrary to my inclination; you cannot I think be quite so ridiculous, though after such an instance of your wonderful contrivances and matchless confidence, it would be very near as ridiculous in me to be surprised at any thing you either do or say.

This is being rather severe, Miss Westbury; I own I flattered myself, the sincerity of my passion (which after this proof of it, I believed you could no longer doubt) would have induced you to treat me with more indulgence, knowing too I am authorised by your brother in what I have done.

Why, surely you have not the effrontery to give this insolent behaviour as a proof of your love?

But I scorn to argue the matter with you, as I am sure we never shall be of one opinion, so all I have to beg of you Sir James is, that you will be kind enough to set me down at Lord Sandford's without loss of time: on that condition I will endeavour to forget your egregious folly.

No, by Heavens! madam I will not so soon, nor so easily part from you, with justice then might you accuse me of solly, if after having taken so much pains to make you mine, I should suffer myself to be disuaded from my purpose.

I have, as I told you before, (your brother's consent) and even instructions for what I have undertaken, which will fully justify me in the public opinion for any idea of presumptuous temerity, whatever it may do in your's, which indeed I am most solicitous about.

The wisest thing, therefore, my dear Miss Westbury you can now do, is to make me the happiest of men, by joining your consent to that of your brother's—my fortune! my family!

Talk not to me of your fortune and family! were I certain you were heir to the crown of Great Britain, I should hold you in as much contempt and detestation as I do at this moment.

So, pray Sir James order your postillion to turn back, going farther this way, you may be assured can answer no other purpose than exposing you, you have an enterprising spirit, it must be confessed; but I am not such an ideot as to fancy you can succeed in this noble feat of heroism, while I have my senses about me.

He bit his lips with vexation, my cool, my composed manner provoked him beyond expression.

Do me the favour to give the orders I desired (continued I) to your servants.

Still he paid no attention to my request.

If you will not Sir James, I must, so saying I made an attempt to let down the glass.

Look ye Miss Westbury, cried the horrid wretch (holding my hands to prevent me) by all that's sacred, you go to Scotland, on this I am determined, and if after being a week or ten days alone with me on such an expedition, a woman of your delicacy can think it prudent to face the world in any other character, than as my wife, I shall have a worse opinion of you than I have at present.

The story will be rather against you madam.

People will not easily be inclined to credit, you could be forced into a trip of this nature, 'tis not every day ladies are run away with against their will.

I gave him the most contemptuous look I could assume, but was silent.

At length, finding all my rhetoric had been ineffectual to make him relinquish his horrid purpose, I resolved to make myself as easy as I possibly could, till we reached the next inn, not doubting but I should then be able to interest some persons in my favour, by whose means I might be delivered from the wretches tyranny.

We arrived at our last stage about nine o'clock in the evening, when I suffered him to lead me in.

This condescension, I really believe gave him hopes that his last wise speech had made a due impression on me.

I desired the people of the house, as soon as we entered, to shew me into a room, as I found myself much satigued, both in mind and person.

Sir James now took the mistress aside, (and as I suppose) gave her a strict charge to be watchful over me, fearing, if left to myself, I should elope from him.

This was natural enough you know, so I took no notice, but soon after followed our hostess up stairs.

In about an hour he sent his compliments to me, begging the honor of my company to supper.

Down I went, and in spite of my gloomy prospect, and very whimsical situation, eat the wing of a chicken, the creature appeared delighted with my apparent change of disposition, fancied all resistance was at an end, and that he should shortly triumph in the conquest he had gained, our conversation indeed was uot very brilliant, but I answered all his silly questions with chearfulness and temper.

When I was going to retire, (which I did early) he ventured to take my hand, wishing to know at what hour I would chuse to proceed on our tour next morning.

O! I should not chuse it at all, if I could possibly avoid it, but if I must absolutely go, one hour is equally agreeable to me as another.

So saying, I left him fully persuaded (as I said before) I should make no further opposition, and as this was what I wanted him to believe, I did not repent the moderation I had observed.

The servant, who conducted me to my room, was a decent looking girl—I at once told her the disagreeable predicament in which I was, and added, if you can contrive to get me a post-chaise, when all the family are gone to rest, no matter at what hour, this purse in which you will find ten guineas shall be your's—if not, I must wait till I get to the next inn.

The maid confessed her mistress had given her orders to lock all the doors leading from my appartment, and charged her to sleep, or rather sit up in one adjoining to it, in case I made any attempt to escape.

However, madam, said she, I think I may very lawfully disobey her orders on an occasion like this, and certainly will do so.

I am luckily wife to one of our postillions, and if he is at home, I think I can easily prevail upon him to convey you hence—nor can I imagine either our master or mistress will blame us, when I inform them of the story.

Go my good girl, and see what you can do.

Away she went, and presently returned, telling me I might depend on her husband's being ready with the carriage at a little distance from the house, this he proposed, lest the noise of it might alarm the family.

When all was quiet, which was not till near three o'clock in the morning, my honest friend conducted me to it, I gave her the purse, with which she was extremely well satisfied, and got in, bidding the fellow drive as fast as his horses could gallop to Lord Sandford's, he feared it would be too far, he said, without changing, but said he would try what he could do.

Away we flew like lightening—about six we were within a few miles of his lordship's seat, and as my apprehensions were now pretty well subsided, I gave him leave to go to the next inn—there I got another chaise, took leave of my friend's husband, having more than gratified him for his trouble, and soon after arrived in safety at Lord Sandford's.

The servants were no doubt surprised at my early appearance—but judge how much more so my friend Lady Sandford was, when on entering the apartment, she beheld me seated at the breakfast table.

I am amazed (said her ladyship) Miss Westbury!

Even so my dear Lady Sandford, you see I am an early riser.

An early riser indeed! but where is Sir John? we expected you both yesterday.

Sir John, is for ought I know to the contrary in his bed at home.

How do you mean, my dear Caroline? there is certainly some mistery in this, your looks indeed confirm it, pray explain it, for I am wholly at a loss to comprehend you.

Why, you must know (said I very gravely) I, yesterday set off for Scotland on a matrimonial trip with Sir James Henderson; but as we females will do some times, happening to change my mind, before I reached the end of my journey, I left him to enjoy his nap this morning about three o'clock, and very quietly getting into a post-chaise, came here to make my apology for disappointing your ladyship yesterday.

They now all stared upon me with looks of astonishment, firmly believing I had lost my senses.

Come good folks I beseech you, give me a cup of tea, for I am horridly fatigued I do assure you, not having rested much since I eft home, so saying, I began to help myself—do my dear Caroline, said her ladyship (with an anxious kind of concern in her voice and manner) tell us what you mean, •ou really look so exceedingly ••tigued, that I am rather alarmed, ••d fearful you are not quite well.

O, perfectly so at present, tho' say the truth, I have been a ••od deal hurried, and very much sconcerted.

This alarmed them still more and finding they began to b• seriously uneasy, I at last told them the whole affair; adding, I mea• with their permission to make the• a longer visit than they perhap either wished or expected.

Than we wish, I am certain you will not my dear girl (sai• his lordship) nor would you I a• sure have proposed it, had you n•• known how happy you make all in so doing.

My fingers are too much cramped with writing, my dear Rochley, to tell you all that was said on the subject of my marvellous adventure.

Suffice it to add, that I am safely under my good friends hospitable roof, where I intend to continue till a certain day arrives, which, thank Heaven is not now far distant.

I shall then expect that you will be kind enough to take me under your protection, and should you wish to see me before that event takes place. I am commissioned in the name of all this family to promise you a welcome reception.

Even my very honorable brother has now I presume, made his last effort to prevent our union, he will never attempt any thing farther I am persuaded, on condition that this ill-concerted and illfated plot is buried in oblivion.

Beware then, my dear Orlando how you mention it, leave that to others; if himself and friend have discretion enough to keep their own counsel, it shall ever remain a secret for me.

Do you think you can spare a day or two for an excursion to this charming place? (it is indeed delightfully situated) if you can, I am sure you require no pressing to accept the invitation made you by this family.

My lord is impatient to be personally acquainted with you, to your merit, he is no stranger; Lady Sandford having said so much in your praise, that I had no occasion to add my mite—he is a most agreeable (and what is still better, a most amiable man) they are indeed the happiest couple I at present know; in a few weeks I expect, and hope there will be another pair as happy, I am studying the "art of pleasing," and the "way to keep him," from my lovely friend—in the character of a wife, I mean Orlando.

Did you ever know a Miss talk with so much composure of matrimony as I do?—I believe not.

But I hate all affectation, all disguise, and therefore, without farther ceremony, am going ingenuously and sincerely to assure you, I am, most affectionately your's,

CAROLINE WESTBURY.

LETTER the Thirty-eighth.
Miss ROCHLEY, TO Miss LENOX.

LONDON.

MY dear Orlando has just given me leave to send you my Harriot the inclosed letter from his beloved, which you will be much▪ pleased with; the great length will not admit transcribing, so must beg you will return it to me again as soon as you have perused it, and at the same time let me know your opinion of Sir John, and his very valorous and gallant friend Sir James? don't you think they make capital figures?

Never, sure was there so foolish, so preposterous a contrivance, nor one more easily eluded, the poor creatures were at their wits end, no doubt, (the road was not very long you'll say) or they never would have engaged in so absurd, so contemptible an enterprise.

Don't you admire Miss Westbury? how happy must my brother be with a woman so uncommonly amiable, and so sensible of his great worth.

My uncle, who is now informed of their long and tender attachment, and the difficulties they have had to encounter, is quite charmed with her character, and says, she beats me all to nothing; because I stand shilly shally, (as he calls it) and do not know my own mind, not having yet determined, whether I shall accept Lord Templeton, as my lord; or refuse his generous offers.

He forgets I have not yet been so long acquainted with him, as Caroline as been with my brother; but whatever my uncle pretends to believe, or, however, he talks in such a jesting stile, I dare say he has no doubt about the matter any more than his lordship: tho' I have yet made no vows either way I do assure you.

Orlando sat off for Lord Sandford's seat this morning, what transport must he experience to be at length at liberty to visit the mistress of his affections, and freely to give vent to the grateful effusions of his heart.

You never, Harriot, beheld so lively, so chearful a creature as he is become, judge then of my feelings, who so truly have sympathised and lamented every misfortune that has happened to one, so justly dear to me, (much more as you know than I did my own) and now so gladly participate in his present felicitous prospects.

Do not, my dear Isabella, said my brother (when just going to leave me) play the tyrant to my poor friend, let me find him as happy when I return as I am, were I not from a thorough knowledge of his heart, certain he is worthy of possessing your's, believe me I would be the last to urge you in his favor.

Promise me then, my dear sister, that you will put an end to his cruel suspence before I see you again, let me find your day fixed.

Ah! my dear brother! (interrupting him) that is going rather too far, you know it is impossible, 'tis time enough yet to talk of—

And, why impossible? or why time enough? (interrupting me in his turn) can it be ever too soon to act ingenuously with generosity and with candor; or too soon to confer happiness on the man who adores you, take example by my Caroline.

Let her then set me the example, let her name her day, and I here promise my Orlando it shall be mine.

Her's cannot be so early as my ardent wishes would make it, you know it cannot, my sly sister, or you would not be so ready with your promises.

Why, she will be at age in less than a month, and consequently at liberty, and the deuce is in it, if the man cannot bear my tyranny, (as you call it) during that short time, when I am to take my chance of bearing his for ever after.

You agree then, Isabella, to give him your hand on the day I receive my beloveds?

I do! I here promise it! but for your life, not a word of this to his impatient lordship—'tis intirely entre nous, mind that Orlando.

I should hate his knowing my mind so long before hand, though I wish to conceal nothing from you, the creature would be so triumphantly happy, besides I should lose half his attentions, his assiduity, once secure of his prize, he might chance to value it the less—so pray remember he is to know nothing of our agreement, I made the promise merely to please you, I do assure you Brother.

Very well, my dear, I am much obliged to you, (laughing) I shall certainly observe your directions as far as I think them consistent and reasonable.

Ah! brother!—

And, ah! my dear sister! (again laughing) but adieu, till I have the pleasure of seeing you again, saying this, he disappeared in an instant.

I saw him no more, Harriot; but in less than an hour, came Lord Templeton, and by the joy that sparkled in his fine eyes, (which seemed expressively thankful) I was fully convinced he had both seen and heard him.

He did not, however, I must say, give himself any airs upon the occasion, nor utter one word tending to betray his friend, who had certainly betrayed me.

We go this evening to the Opera, his lordship is to dine with us, the Harcourt's also. (who are of our party) Sophia is qnite in love with him, and vows if I do not make haste to secure him to myself, she will do her endeavours to rival me in his affections—to tell you the truth, Harriot, I should be desperately mortified, were she to succeed, though I cannot say I am under much apprehensions.

In about a month from the date of this, I begin to fancy I shall once more change my name, in the mean time I intend to make the most of my present liherty.

When a wife, I shall give up all the follies of my youth, and (like Lady Sandford, and as Miss Westbury promises) be an example to all those who now figure in that sober line—I mean to astonish the world by my conduct, it shall be quite on a new plan, so wise! so prudent! so—

Here he is again I declare, and I am not yet half dressed, when my head was decorated, I sat down to my pen, meaning to finish the business, when I had finished my letter; but that never happens till I get to the end of my paper; for once, however, it must yield to so powerful a summons, or I shall be an absolute fright.

So adieu my dear girl, I am in haste, ever your's,

ISABELLA ROCHLEY.

LETTER the Thirty-ninth.
The same to the same.

London.

I Plead guilty, my dear Harriot, yet you ought to make some allowance for my present situation, consider how very near it is to the time, in which I shall cease to be Isabella Rochley, though to whatever name I shall become intitled, I can never cease to be your friend.

This day fortnight, Miss Westbury will be of age—and you know what the consequences of that long and ardently desired event are likely to prove, no less than a pair of wives, added to the venerable list of matrons.

I need hardly tell you I am of course immersed in business, mantua-makers, milliners, &c. with me from morning till night—carriage, jewels, and so forth, my delighted uncle, and no less delighted lover, have taken upon themselves to provide, which is no more than they ought to do, as you must allow, and a most joyous bustle the good souls are perpetually in.

I was compelled to confirm the hasty promise I had inadvertantly made to my brother, as I soon found he had betrayed me, (which indeed I had before suspected) to his friend, the moment I had been drawn in to make it.—

Well, it does not signify, I do not intend to retract, for since this grand affair must be complied with some time or other, one would not differ about a day or two.

I am heartily rejoiced the story of Sir John and his friend Henderson has not transpired, I should like to be a witness to their meeting, or rather to have been, for 'tis no doubt, long since past, as I presume the latter would hardly be so fond of the excursion, as to proceed on his journey alone.

My uncle received a letter yesterday from the happy Orlando; containing a very polite, and pressing invitation from Lord and Lady Sandford to himself, your Isabela, and Lord Templeton.

They intreat we will all pay them a visit immediately, and stay there till the awful ceremony is over. His lordship's chaplain (Orlando says) has undertaken the important business of uniting us, it seems he did the same good office for his amiable benefactors.

After discoursing over the matter amongst ourselves▪ it was at length agreed, we should, without delay, accede to their obliging wishes, my brother presses it very much, as he says, he is impatient to introduce his Caroline to my uncle and me; I long also for that pleasure no less than he does.

You remember, Harriot, I once saw her, though I little dreamt at that time, either who she was, or of what is now going to happen—she is lovely beyond expression in her person, and if I may believe my dear Orlando, (and her letters should be a transcript of it) her mind is no less so.

An answer was dispatched to my brother this morning, desiring him to inform Lord and Lady Sandford, we should do ourselves the honor to attend them next Monday to dinner.

Before that time, I dare say all my paraphernatia will be finished, and I shall have nothing to think of, but the day on which I suppose, and am sadly afraid I shall look exceedingly like a fool; but a person may submit to that for once in their life, Harriot.

I have given a good deal of employment to my friend Mrs. Bellmour on this occasion, we are both (Caroline and myself I mean) to be presented at court immediately after our transformation, so I have left the care of my dress for that day intirely to her, I have seen many proofs of her taste, and as I have laid her under no restriction in point of expence, one may presume I shall be immensely fine.

The poor plotting girl, (Jane Brown) has hardly yet had courage to look up—She is, I believe, as sincere a penitent as ever sinned, and as I am sensible of this by many circumstances, I have been particularly kind to her, and no mortal can be more grateful.

Adieu my dear Harriot, I will, if possible write again before all is over, though I fancy I shall scarcely find more time for it at Lord Sandford's than I do at present, busy as I am—half a dozen lines you shall have, however, coute qui coute, were it only that this may not be the last opportunity I shall have of subscribing myself,

Your affectionate friend, ISABELLA ROCHLEY.

LETTER the Fortieth.
The same to the same.

Sandford-House.

HERE we are my dear Harriot, and I defy the world to produce a happier set of beings, our reception was exactly such as I wished to find it, Lord and Lady Sandford are a most delightful couple, both handsome and pleasing in their manners beyond expression.

Ah! it is! it is the very same charming creature! (cried Miss Westbury, while my Orlando introduced me to her) it is the lovely Miss Beverly! with whom I was so struck some months ago; your very picture Rochley, never were two creatures so much alike—he pressed her hand to his heart, which seemed to exult with transport.

And I, my dear Miss Westbury, could, were it necessary, bring many witnesses to prove that the elegance of your person, and sweet affabillity of your manner, made a no less favorable impression on me, the partiality I instantly conceived for you, was wholly disinterested, as I found no resemblance between you and any favoured lover—perhaps I am as much indebted to that circumstance for your very flattering attention as to any other cause.

Indeed, but you are not (smiling at the turn I had given her compliment) it was wholly owing to your own charms, not his I do assure you, yet I will honestly confess—not if you listen though my good friend, turning to Orlando, who stood looking at us with pleasure, sparkling in his expressive, countenance—you are not to hear all our secrets, don't you know Rochley, listeners seldom hear good of themselves.

No rule without exception, my lovely Caroline, and I am determined to believe the sweet confession you was going to make would have evinced it.

Ah! the vanity of some men, (smiling on him) don't he deserve to have his lowered a little my dear Miss Rochley? was he always thus vain?

No, indeed! nor had he ever before you deigned to smile upon him, so much reason, who would not be vain, thus highly honored—

Heavens! (exclaimed the lively Caroline) what an agreeable pair of flatterers.

O! cried Lord Sandford, coming up to us (just as she said this) if you are only engaged in flattering each other, I may as well break up your party, since we wish for some share of your conversation; but I shall change the nature of it I can tell you, Lady Sandford knows I never could flatter in my life.

And, yet my lord, (said her ladyship) I have not the vanity to imagine you can really fancy I deserve all the fine things you so kindly say to me, I should be too happy, durst I believe them your real sentiments, and perhaps too vain also.

Come, come, (cried my good uncle) let me make one amongst you, and I will set you all to rights presently, nobody will suspect me I presume of that failing, my sincerity has never yet been called in question.

Then I know, (my dear Sir, said I) who has great reason to guard against a certain foible, for if that is the case, she must be the most perfect of all human beings.

We were now, Harriot, interrupted by a summons to table, which we found covered in the most elegant and sumptuous manner, the entertainment, indeed was such as would have amply gratified the palate of the most finished epicurean, but was nearly thrown away upon us lovers, who chiefly feasted on each others looks.

Happiness was depicted in every countenance, and pleasure sat smiling in every feature, the conversation as you may imagine was chearful and expressive of the satisfaction we enjoyed in our happy meeting.

A good deal of company assembled in the evening, some sat down to cards, others to chat, in the latter class were included Miss Westbury, and your Isabella, our beaux, you may believe, followed our example.

Great things are talked of for a certain day, we proposed a masked ball, since they were at all events determined to make a show of us; but to this, my uncle objected, politely complimenting us by saying faces like ours were not made to be concealed; a ball, however, is resolved on, and half the country is to be invited.

Caroline and her Orlando intend writing to Sir John on the occasion, his having behaved ill is no rule to them, his consent to their union is to be asked, though it is in fact a mere compliment, since it certainly does not depend upon his answer—what that answer will be, Heaven only knows, not very gracious we apprehend.

Our good uncle has put it in my brother's power to offer such settlements as Sir John cannot refuse however, he may object to the settler—to your Isabella he presents twenty thousand pound on the day she gives her hand to Lord Templeton.

Can I ever, my friend, be sufficiently thankful to providence for raising us so generous, so noble a benefactor, who with such unbounded liberality, has contributed to our felicity, may Heaven preserve his precious life, and enable us by our grateful attention, to his every wish, render his latter days happy.

Now, my dear, adieu: ah! Harriot! I am going for the last time to subscribe myself your truly affectionate and sincere friend, by the loved name of

ISABELLA ROCHLEY.

LETTER the Forty-first.
Lady TEMPLETON, TO Miss LENOX.

Sandford-House.

I AM actually married, Harriot!—absolutely a wife to all intents and purposes!

Yet would you believe it, I am still the very same kind of girl I was before the important event took place? I do all I can however to assume a grave, matronly appearance, and try to give myself a few consequential airs; but I make a sad hand of it, nor does my sister succeed much better, nay worse I verily think, for she is, if possible, more giddy, more lively than ever, however time may do much, indeed my lord insists upon it I am already in every respect a pattern of all perfection.

Orlando seems inclined to think, that his Caroline alone merits that character, though I believe he allows his Isabella is intitled to stand second on the list.

Dear creatures! all I ask of Heaven, is that they may continue through life to think of us, as they do at present; can we flatter ourselves this will be the case, Harriot?—I dare not answer that question.

Sir John has not thought fit to take any notice of either of the letters, and as he did not, his silence was taken as consent, this he no doubt expected—they did their duty, if he would not follow their example, who can help it?

Lord and Lady Sandford have agreed to accompany us to town, and to spend the rest of the winter there, my kind uncle makes a point of it, that Orlando and his fair wife are to take up their residence with him in Portland-Place, saying he should be miserable, were he deprived of us both.

As for poor Isabella! you know, Harriot, I must follow my lord and master, his house is in Portman-Square, and I am told superb.

And to that house, Harriot, I am ordered by him to give you an invitation, which you are earnestly intreated to accept of immediately.

Set off then, my dear girl without loss of time, come and congratulate your friend on her felicity, 'tis as perfect as I can wish, and more so than a frail mortal has any right to expect, (but if there is a possibility) it will receive a considerable augmentation, if my Harriot will be so obliging as to indulge me with her company.

I have some thoughts of making a match between you and my good uncle, he can have no objections, and surely you will not presume to object becoming the aunt of one you have from infancy loved, and who will ever remain,

Your most affectionate, and sincere friend, ISABELLA TEMPLETON.

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Title statement

Appearance is against them: in a series of letters, in three volumes, by the author of Emily Herbert, or perfidy punished. ... [pt.3]

Inchbald, Mrs., 1753-1821.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/5497

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1106024966

ID [isbn13]

9781106024961

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K132097.003

ID [BIBNO]

CW3317217189

ID [ECLL]

1263300203

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— Appearance is against them: in a series of letters, in three volumes, by the author of Emily Herbert, or perfidy punished. ..., Inchbald, Mrs., 1753-1821.. 3v. ; 12⁰. London :: printed for Thomas Jones,. 1786.. [The author of Emily Herbert = Elizabeth Inchbald.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT225547.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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