Part 23

“Well,” cried Lady Say, “but do repeat that sweet part that I am so fond of--you know what I mean; Miss Burney must hear it,--out of your novel, you know!”

Lady H.-No, I can't; I have forgot it.

Lady S.-Oh, no! I am sure you have not; I insist upon it.

Lady H.-But I know you can repeat it yourself; you have so fine a memory; I am sure you can repeat it.

Lady S.-Oh, but I should not do it justice! that's all,--I should not do it justice!

Lady Hawke then bent forward, and repeated--“'If, when he made the declaration of his love, the sensibility that beamed in his eyes was felt in his heart, what pleasing sensations and soft alarms might not that tender avowal awaken!'”

“And from what, ma'am,” cried I, astonished, and imagining I had mistaken them, “is this taken?”

“From my sister's novel!” answered the delighted Lady Say and Sele, expecting my raptures to be equal to her own; “it's in the 'Mausoleum,'--did not you know that? Well, I can't think how you can write these sweet novels! And it's all just like that part. Lord Hawke himself says it's all poetry. For my part, I'm sure I never could write so. I suppose, Miss Burney, you are producing another,--a'n't you?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Oh, I dare say you are. I dare say you are writing one this Very minute!”

Mrs. Paradise now came up to me again, followed by a square man, middle-aged, and hum-drum, who, I found was Lord Say and Sele, afterwards from the Kirwans, for though they introduced him to me, I was so confounded by their vehemence and their manners, that I did not hear his name.

“Miss Burney,” said Mrs. P., presenting me to him, “authoress of 'Evelina.'”

“Yes,” cried Lady Say and Sele, starting up, “'tis the authoress of 'Evelina!'”

“Of what?” cried he.

“Of 'Evelina.' You'd never think it,--she looks so young, to have so much invention, and such an elegant style! Well, I could write a play, I think, but I'm sure I could never write a novel.”

“Oh, yes, you could, if you would try,” said Lady Hawke.

“Oh, no, I could not,” answered she; “I could not get a style--that's the thing--I could not tell how to get a style! and a novel's nothing without a style, you know!”

“Why no,” said Lady Hawke; “that's true. But then you write such charming letters, you know!”

“Letters!” repeated Lady S. and S. simpering; “do you think so? Do you know I wrote a long letter to Mrs. Ray just before I came here, this very afternoon,--quite a long letter! I did, I assure you!”

Here Mrs. Paradise came forward with another gentleman, younger, slimmer, and smarter, and saying to me, “Sir Gregory Page Turner,” said to him,

“Miss Burney, authoress of 'Evelina.'”

At which Lady Say and Sele, In fresh transport, again rose, and rapturously again repeated--

“Yes, she's authoress of 'Evelina'! Have you read it?”

“No; is it to be had?”

“Oh dear, yes! it's been printed these two years! You'd never think it! But it's the most elegant novel I ever read in my life. Writ in such a style!”

“Certainly,” said he very civilly; “I have every inducement to get it. Pray where is it to be had? everywhere, I suppose?”

“Oh, nowhere, I hope,” cried I, wishing at that moment it had been never in human ken.

My square friend, Lord Say and Sele, then putting his head forward, said, very solemnly, “I'll purchase it!”

His lady then mentioned to me a hundred novels that I had never heard of, asking my opinion of them, and whether I knew the authors? Lady Hawke only occasionally and languidly joining in the discourse: and then Lady S. and S., suddenly rising, begged me not to move, for she should be back again in a minute, and flew to the next room.

I took, however, the first opportunity of Lady Hawke's casting down her eyes, and reclining her delicate head, to make away from this terrible set; and, just as I was got by the pianoforte, where I hoped Pacchierotti would soon present himself, Mrs. Paradise again came to me, and said,--

“Miss Burney, Lady Say and Sele wishes vastly to cultivate your acquaintance, and begs to know if she may have the honour of your company to an assembly at her house next Friday?--and I will do myself the pleasure to call for you if you will give me leave.”

“Her ladyship does me much honour, but I am unfortunately engaged,” was my answer, with as much promptness as I could command.

A DINNER AT SIR JOSHUA'S, WITH BURKE AND GIBBON.

_June._--Among the many I have been obliged to shirk this year, for the sake of living almost solely with “Cecilia,” none have had less patience with my retirement than Miss Palmer, who, bitterly believing I intended never to visit her again, has forborne sending me any invitations: but, about three weeks ago, my father had a note from Sir Joshua Reynolds, to ask him to dine at Richmond, and meet the Bishop of St. Asaph,[148] and, therefore, to make my peace, I scribbled a note to Miss Palmer to this purpose,--

“After the many kind invitations I have been obliged to refuse, will you, my dear Miss P