You are cruelly exact, my dear Henrietta: You promised me not to mention Lord Ossory, and you keep your word, with a punctuality that I admire. I did not wish you should entertain me with his sentiments, with my own, or the caprice which brings him back to me: But, to leave me in ignorance, whether he is yet in London, whether he intends staying there, what he is doing, whether he endeavours to see my Lord Castle-Cary; this is hard, yes, very hard, indeed. It is sometimes kind to fail a little in complying with one's request – But, why this vain curiosity? – What interest have I? – Persevere, – Tell me nothing of him, my temper is grown very bad, every thing displeases me: Sir Harry makes this place disagreeable to me; he besets me, he fatigues me, wherever I turn I see only him; he follows me, he meets me every-where. Scarce am I a moment in my closet, before he enters with an air of some important business: You would suppose, by his looks, something very interesting brought him there; he has nothing to say to me, but, perhaps, to bid me good-morrow. He goes out, he comes back, he seems disturbed, he takes out of Betty's hands, whatever she was going to bring me, disorders my books, throws them down, asks me for tea, goes away without drinking it; returns to tell me he is ill, overwhelmed with anguish, that he is dying. He walks with his arms across, sighs, groans, does not die, and exhausts my patience to that degree, that I find it difficult to behave to him with politeness. How I hate love! How I hate all who entertain the cruel design of inspiring me with it! – Sir James desires a moment's conversation with me: He has formed a project, he says, which he will submit to my decision: He regards me with an air that – He speaks to me with such a tone of voice – What can he have to say to me? – I have one obligation to Lord Ossory, the remembrance of him will be my preservative, my eternal preservative, against all his sex.