There was a Mr. Lawrence, with his lady and daughter, and a certain
Major Sanford, at the house. The latter, I believe, in the modern sense
of the phrase, _is much of a gentleman_; that is, a man of show and
fashion.
Miss Wharton asked me when I should leave town, and when I should
return, or have an opportunity of conveyance to Hampshire. I told her I
should write by the next post, and, if she had any commands, would be
happy to execute them. She would send a line to her friend, she said, if
I would take the trouble to enclose it in my letter. I readily
consented, and told her that I would call and receive her favor
to-morrow morning. This chitchat was a little aside; but I could not but
observe that the aforesaid Major Sanford had dropped his part in the
conversation of the rest of the company, and was attending to us, though
he endeavored to conceal his attention by looking carelessly over a
play which lay on the window by him. Yet he evidently watched every word
and action of Miss Wharton, as if he were really interested in her
movements.
It is said she has many admirers, and I conceive it very possible that
this may be one of them; though, truly, I do not think that she would
esteem such a conquest any great honor. I now joined in the general
topic of conversation, which was politics; Mrs. Richman and Miss Wharton
judiciously, yet modestly, bore a part; while the other ladies amused
themselves with Major Sanford, who was making his sage remarks on the
play, which he still kept in his hand.
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