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What do you mean? Where is your aunt? She is not here, sir. It was I who wished to speak to you. You! And send in your aunt's name? My name is Wenbourne, sir. Your name is St. Ives, miss. This is extraordinary! Very extraordinary, upon my soul! What have you heard? What have you heard? That you are going back to Wenbourne-Hill. Well, what then? And that you do not intend we should visit France.
Heaven bless and eternally preserve my dear Anna! Abimelech Henley to Sir Arthur St. Ives Wenbourne-Hill Most onnurable Sir, my ever onnurd Master, Your onnur has a thrown me quite into a quandry! I couldn't have thoft it! For why? My thofts were all in the mercifool praise and glorification of your onnur; and I had a done nothink but say how good and gracious your onnur had a bin, to me and mine.
I most umbelly pray and besiege your onnur to be so mercifool as to think o' that there! Do ee, your ever gracious onnur! I pray your onnur, doo ee! Then we should a be all sound and safe over, and it would all a be holiday at Wenbourne-Hill! A that would be a glorified day! The lawjus mighty, ay! It would!
The restless crafty Abimelech has prevailed on Sir Arthur to go down with him to Wenbourne-Hill. He well knows how much his own power will be increased by the old habits of Sir Arthur, and the ease with which they can be revived by this his interested abettor.
Clarke into consternation; for Sir Arthur is down at Wenbourne-Hill, with old Henley and his son Edward. Each is indulging his dreams of improvement, marriage, docking of entails, and other projects, to which I have put an eternal stop. Finding the evening advance, and that the two prisoners did not appear, the housekeeper sent to the aunt, Wenbourne. She heard the story and was amazed.
But, patience; the day of vengeance is at hand, or rather is here! This moment will I fly and take it! Expect to hear 'of battles, sieges, disastrous chances, and of moving accidents; but not of hair breadth 'scapes! Escape she cannot! I go! She falls! Frank Henley to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives Wenbourne-Hill
The picture clings to me, as it were; and it grieves me to give it up. But so it must be. However, as I say, I shall come down more than once: and, for my part, I wonder how these young unthinking people can prefer the dirty streets of London, to all the delights and riches of nature, and of art; which may be said to be waiting for and inviting them, at Wenbourne-Hill.
I have written a long letter; but, writing to you, I never know when to end. Heaven bless my Anna St. Ives! Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard Wenbourne-Hill Oliver, I am wretched! The feeble Frank Henley is a poor miserable being!
But the little hussy has been so nice, and squeamish, that I began to fear she would take up her silly spend-thrift brother's whim, and determine to live single: therefore I shall not balk her, now she seems in the humour. Abimelech Henley to Frank Henley Wenbourne-Hill Why, ay! To be sure! This will do! I shall be fain to think a summut of ee, now you can flamgudgin 'em a thisn.
For you know, Aby, he is to have them when I am gone: and go I must, some time or another. He had even the confidence to tell me that, if Wenbourne-Hill were his, he would quickly undo every thing that I have been doing. Is not this a sad thing, Aby? For what have I been labouring? Have not we both spent our lives in contriving? How many charming thoughts have we had!
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