In proper
historical style, I shall commence with her birth, parentage, and
education. For the first, my father remembers her when she was
_damoiselle a'honneur_ to Judge Sefton's lady at Surat, and soon
after her arrival there, this pretty Abigail by some means captivated
old Hector Dundas, (then governor of the province,) who married her.
When she returned in triumph to England, she coaxed her foolish
husband to appropriate some of his rupee riches to the purchase of a
baronetage. I suppose the appellation _Mistress_ put her in mind
of her ci-devant abigailship; and in a fond hour he complied, and she
became _My Lady_. That over, Sir Hector had nothing more
obliging to do in this world but to clear her way to perhaps a
coronet. He was so good as to think so himself: and, to add to former
obligations, had the civility to walk out of it; for one night,
whether he had been dreaming of his feats in India, or of a review of
his grand entry into his governorship palace, I cannot affirm, but he
marched out of his bed room window and broke his neck. Ever since
that untoward event, Lady Dundas has exhibited the finest parties in
town. Everybody goes to see her, but whether in compliment to their
own taste or to her silver muslins, I don't know; for there are half
a dozen titled ladies of her acquaintance who, to my certain
knowledge, have not bought a ball-dress this twelvemonth.
Pages:
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308