Yet I am not angry: I reproach you not: Every one has
his peculiar way. All that is left me to say or to do, is to thank you
for your favourable opinion of me, as I have thanked Mr. Fenwick; and to
desire that you will allow me to look upon you as my neighbour, and only
as my neighbour.
I courtesied to him, and withdrew.
But my great difficulty had been before with Mr. Orme.
His sister had desired that I would see her brother. He and she were
invited by my aunt to dinner on Tuesday. They came. Poor man! He is
not well! I am sorry for it. Poor Mr. Orme is not well! He made me
such honest compliments, as I may say: his heart was too much in his
civilities to raise them above the civilities that justice and truth
might warrant in favour of a person highly esteemed. Mine was filled
with compassion for him; and that compassion would have shewn itself in
tokens of tenderness, more than once, had I not restrained myself for his
sake. How you, my dear Lady G----, can delight in giving pain to an
honest heart, I cannot imagine. I would make all God Almighty's
creatures happy, if I could; and so would your noble brother. Is he not
crossing dangerous seas, and ascending, through almost perpetual snows,
those dreadful Alps which I have heard described with such terror, for
the generous end of relieving distress?
I made Mr. Orme sit next me.
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