Read it through once

During this year it is certain that Miss Mitford began seriously to think of authorship in the light of something more than a dilettante pastime and the scribbling of heroic verses to the notable men whom her father was constantly meeting as he gadded about town. Doubtless the haunting fear of impending disaster had much to do with this, though possibly she conveyed no hint to her parents as to the real cause of her diligence. “We go out so much that my work does not proceed so fast as I could wish” is the burden of a letter she wrote towards the end of May, “although,” she adds, “I am very happy I have seen Lord Blandford’s, my darling, as I should, if I had not, always have fancied it something superior.”