My Father was all indulgence and goodness; he at first proposed that I should write him Word that our acquaintance had been too short to authorise so high an opinion as he expressed for me; but I objected to that, as seeming to infer that a longer acquaintance might be Acceptable. He therefore concluded upon the whole, that I should send no answer at all.

I was not very easy at this determination, as it seemed to treat Mr Barlow with a degree of Contempt, which his partiality to me by no means merited from myself; and as I apprehended it to be possible for him to put, perhaps, another and more favourable interpretation upon my silence. I shewed Hetty the Letter next Day. She most vehemently took the young man’s part: urged me to think differently, and above all advised me to certainly Write an answer, and to be of their party, according to my promise, when they went to Mrs O Connor’s.

I told her I would speak to my Father again in regard to writing an Answer, which I wished much to do, but could not now without his consent: but as to the Party, I could not make one, as it would be a kind of tacit approbation and assent of his further attentions.

I went afterwards to call on my Grandmother; my sister followed me, and directly told her and my aunts of the affair. They all of them became most zealous Advocates for Mr Barlow; they spoke most highly of the Character they had heard of him, and my aunt Anne humourously bid me beware of her and Beckey’s fate!

I assured them I was not intimidated, and that I had rather a thousand Times Die an old maid than be married, except from affection.

When I came Home, I wrote the following Answer which I proposed sending, with my Father’s leave.

Miss Burney presents her Compliments to Mr Barlow; she is much obliged for, though greatly surprised at the good opinion with which on so short an Acquaintance he is pleased to Honour her; she wishes Mr Barlow all happiness, but must beg leave to recommend to him to Transfer to some person better known to him a partiality which she so little merits.

My Father, however, did not approve of my Writing. I could not imagine why, but have since heard from my sister that he was unwilling I should give a No without some further knowledge of the young man.

Further knowledge will little avail. In Connections of this sort, the Heart ought to be heard, and mine will never speak a word I am sure, for any one I do not truly enough honour to cheerfully, in all things serious, obey. How hard must be the duty of a wife practised without high esteem! And I am too spoilt by such men as my father and Mr Crisp to content myself with a character merely inoffensive. I should expire of fatigue with him.

My sister was not contented with giving her own advice; she Wrote about the affair to Mr Crisp, representing in the strongest light the utility of my listening to Mr Barlow. He has written me such a Letter! God knows how I shall have Courage to answer it. Every body is against me but my beloved Father.

They all of them are kindly interested in my welfare; but they know not so well as myself what may make me happy or miserable. To unite myself for Life to a man who is not infinitely dear to me, is what I can never, never Consent to. Unless, indeed, I was strongly urged by my Father. I thank God most gratefully he has not interfered.

They tell me they do not desire me to marry, but not to give up the power of it, without seeing more of the proposer: but this reasoning I cannot give into. – It is foreign to all my Notions: how can I see more of Mr Barlow without encourageing him to believe I am willing to think of him? I detest all trifling. If ever I marry, my consent shall be prompt and unaffected.

Sunday, May 14th

The Visit to Mrs O Connor was made yesterday. I Commissioned my Aunts – – though they would hardly hear me – to say that I was prevented from Waiting on her by a bad Cold. How the message was taken, and what passed, I know not; but this morning, while we were all at Breakfast, except my Father, who was in the study; John came into the Parlour, and said that a Gentleman enquired for me.

I guessed who it was – and was inexpressibly Confused. Mama stared, but desired he might walk in – the Door opened – and Mr Barlow appeared. – He had Dressed himself elegantly – but could hardly speak. – He Bowed two or three Times – I coloured like scarlet, and I believe he was the only person in the Room who did not see it.

‘Mrs O Connor – he called – my Cold – he understood – he was very sorry –’

He could not get on. – My voice too, failed me terribly – for his silence at his first Entrance made me fear he was going to reproach me for not answering his Letter. – I told him my Cold had been too bad to allow me to go out – but I was so terribly frightened lest my mother should say what Cold – I did not know you had one! – that I had great difficulty to get out the Words: and he himself took Notice that my Voice spoke how bad my Cold was! – though in fact I have no Cold at all, but grew husky from embarrassment: my mother then asked him to sit down – and Sukey [Susanna], very good naturedly, entered into Conversation with him, to our mutual relief, – particularly to his, as he seemed so confounded he scarse knew where he was. I sat upon Thorns from the fear he would desire to speak to me alone – I looked another way, and hardly opened my mouth. In about ½ an Hour, he rose to go.

Whether he was induced to make this visit from expecting he might speak to me, or whether in order to see if I had any Cold or not, I cannot tell: but it proved cruelly distressing to him, and confusing to me.

Had I sent an answer, this would not have happened: but it is now too late. I am very sorry to find this young man seems so serious; – however, an attachment so precipitately formed, so totally discouraged, and so placed – cannot be difficult to Cure.

June 6th

On Saturday morning [27 May], while we were at Breakfast, I had a Letter brought me in a Hand which I immediately knew to be Barlow’s.

Notwithstanding I was at once sorry and provoked at perceiving how sanguine this youth chose to be, I was not absolutely concerned at receiving this 2d Letter, because I regarded it as a fortunate opportunity of putting an unalterable Conclusion to the whole Affair. However, I thought it my duty to speak to my Father before I sent an Answer, never doubting his immediate concurrence.

My mother, Sukey and I went to the opera that Evening; it was therefore too late when I returned to send a Letter to Hoxton4 – but I went upstairs into the study, and told my Father I had received another Epistle from Mr Barlow which I could only attribute to my not answering, as I had wished, his first; I added that I proposed, with his leave, to Write to Mr Barlow the next morning.

My Father looked grave, asked me for the Letter, put it in his Pocket unread, and wished me good Night.

I was siezed with a kind of pannic – I trembled at the idea of his Espousing, however mildly, the Cause of this young man: – I passed a restless Night, and in the morning dared not Write without his permission, which I was now half afraid to ask.

About 2 O’clock, while I was dawdling in the study, and Waiting for an opportunity to speak, John came in, and said ‘A Gentleman is below, who asks for Miss Burney, – Mr Barlow.’

I think I was never more distressed in my life – to have taken pains to avoid a private Conversation so highly disagreeable to me, and at last to be forced into it at so unfavourable a Juncture, – for I had now 2 Letters from him, both Unanswered and consequently open to his Conjectures. I exclaimed ‘Lord! – how provoking! what shall I do?’

My Father looked uneasy and perplexed: – he said something about not being hasty, which I did not desire him to explain. Terrified lest he should hint at the advantage of an early establishment – like Mr Crisp– quick from the study – but slow enough afterwards – I went down stairs. – I saw my mother pass from the front into the Back Parlour; which did not add to the Graciousness of my Reception of poor Mr Barlow, who I found alone in the front Parlour.