THE HISTORY OF SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, VOLUME IV

by

SAMUEL RICHARDSON

CONTENTS OF VOLUME IV

LETTER I. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --A tenth letter from Dr. Bartlett: Description of a formal visit SirCharles Grandison paid to the whole of the Porretta family assembled:their different characters clearly displayed on this occasion; and theaffectionate parting of Sir Charles and his friend Jeronymo. 

LETTER II. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --An eleventh letter from Dr. Bartlett: Signor Jeronymo writes to SirCharles Grandison an account of what farther passed in conversationbetween the family after his departure. 

LETTER III. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Dr. Bartlett's twelfth letter: Sir Charles Grandison takes leave of hisfriends at Bologna, and is setting out for Florence; when he receivesa friendly letter from Signor Jeronymo, by which he learns thatClementina had earnestly entreated her father to permit her to see himonce again before his departure; but that she had met with an absoluterefusal: Jeronymo also describes the ill-treatment of his sister by heraunt, and her resignation under her trials. Sir Charles arrives atNaples, and there visits Clementina's brother, the general: account ofhis reception, and of the conversation that passed between them. 

LETTER IV. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Dr. Bartlett's thirteenth letter; containing an account of Sir CharlesGrandison's final departure from Italy; and various matters relative tothe Porretta family; the persecutions Clementina endured from herrelations; and a letter Sir Charles Grandison received from Mrs. Beaumont. --Dr. Bartlett concludes with an apostrophe on the brevity ofall human affairs. 

LETTER V. Miss Harriet Byron to Miss Lucy Selby. --Explanation of the causes of Sir Charles Grandison's uneasiness, occasioned by intelligence lately brought him from abroad. Miss Byronwishes that Sir Charles was proud and vain, that she might with the moreease cast of her acknowledged shackles. She enumerates the engagementsthat engross the time of Sir Charles; and mentions her tender regardtoward the two sons of Mrs. Oldham, the penitent mistress of his fatherSir Thomas. A visit from the Earl of G----, and his sister LadyGertrude. 

LETTER VI. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Sir Charles Grandison dines with Sir Hargrave Pollexfen and his gayfriends; his reflections on the riots and excesses frequently committedat the jovial meetings of gay and thoughtless young men. Sir Charlesnegociates a treaty of marriage for Lord W----; and resolves to attemptthe restoring of the oppressed Mansfield-family to their rights. 

LETTER VII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Farther traits in the character of Sir Charles Grandison. 

LETTER VIII. Sir Charles Grandison to Dr. Bartlett. --Sir Charles describes the interview he had with Sir Harry Beauchamp andhis lady; and how he appeased the anger of the imperious lady. Hisfarther proceedings in favour of the Mansfields. 

LETTER IX. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --A visit from the Countess of D----, and the earl her son. Account of theyoung earl's person and deportment. Miss Byron confesses to thecountess, that her heart is already a wedded heart, and that she cannotenter into a second engagement. Reflections on young men being sent bytheir parents to travel to foreign countries. 

LETTER X. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Various self-debatings and recriminations that passed through the younglady's mind on the expectation of breakfasting with Sir CharlesGrandison. 

LETTER XI. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Sir Charles Grandison communicates to Miss Byron the farther distressingintelligence he had received from Bologna:--His friend Signor Jeronymodangerously ill, his sister Clementina declining in health, and theirfather and mother absorbed in melancholy. The communication comes fromthe bishop of Nocera, Clementina's second brother; who entreats SirCharles to make one more visit to Bologna. Farther affecting informationfrom Mrs. Beaumont respecting Lady Clementina's cruel treatment at thepalace of Milan, and her removal from thence to Naples. Sir Charlesresolves on going to Bologna. Miss Byron's dignified and generousconduct on the occasion. 

LETTER XII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Informs her of the generosity and kind condescension of Sir Charles toMrs. Oldham and her family, as related by Miss Grandison: theirdifference of opinion on that subject. 

LETTER XIII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --An early visit from Miss Jervois, who communicates with much pleasurethe particulars of a late interview she had with her mother: relates aconversation that passed between her guardian, Mrs. O'Hara, and CaptainSalmonet: describes the affectionate behaviour of Sir Charles to her, onintroducing her to her mother; and his kind instructions concerning herdeportment on the occasion. 

LETTER XIV. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Sir Charles solicits his sister to fix the day for her marriage before heleaves England. Visit from Lord G----, the Earl, and Lady Gertrude. Miss Grandison unusually thoughtful all the time of dinner. The Earl ofG---- and Lady Gertrude request a conference with Sir Charles afterdinner. Purport of it. Miss Grandison's reluctance to so early a day asher brother names, but at length accedes to his powerful entreaties;though wholly unprepared, she says. 

LETTER XV. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Serious conversation between Miss Byron and Miss Grandison concerning theapproaching marriage. The latter expresses her indifference for LordG----; compares his character with that of her brother; entreats MissByron to breakfast with her the next day, and to remain with her till theevent takes place. 

LETTER XVI. Miss Grandison to Miss Byron. --Ludicrous description of three marriages given by Miss Grandison, withthe anticipation of her own. 

LETTER XVII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Great preparations for Miss Grandison's marriage: her generous offer toMiss Byron of her share of her mother's jewels, who refuses to accept ofthem, and gives her opinion as to their disposal. Miss Grandison ispleased with the hint, and acts accordingly. Account of Dr. Bartlett'sinteresting conversation with Miss Byron on the subject of Sir Charlesgoing to Italy, and his attachment to Miss Byron. The young lady'semotions: her alternate hopes and fears: she resolves on relinquishingSir Charles in favour of Lady Clementina. 

LETTER XVIII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Debate concerning the place where the marriage ceremony is to beperformed. Conversation between Miss Byron and Miss Grandisoninterrupted by Lady Gertrude. Miss Byron expresses much concern for LordG----, from Miss Grandison's present conduct to him; but is inclined tohope that an alteration may be effected. 

LETTER XIX. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Account of Sir Charles's return from Windsor: his joy on restoring theworthy family of the Mansfields from oppression: his interview with hisfriend Beauchamp, at Sir Harry's; and cheerful behaviour at his sister'swedding, though his own heart is torn with uncertainty. Farther proofsof his esteem for Miss Byron. 

LETTER XX. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Sir Charles briefly lays before his sister the duties of a married life:some remarks on her behaviour. Lord W----'s generosity to his nieces oLady G----'s marriage. Painful reflections on the departure of SirCharles. Opinions of the proper age for the marrying of women. 

LETTER XXI. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Conversation with Dr. Bartlett. Artless remarks of Miss Jervois, and hercensures on the conduct of Lady G---- to her lord. Mr. Galliard proposesan alliance for Sir Charles. Contrast between Lady G---- and Lady L----in disposing of their uncle's present. Miss Byron's perturbed state ofmind: the cause of it. Her noble resolution in favour of LadyClementina. 

LETTER XXII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Conference between Lord W---- and Sir Charles on the management ofservants: their conduct frequently influenced by example. Remarks onthe helpless state of single women. Plan proposed for erectingProtestant Nunneries in England, and places of refuge for penitentfemales. 

LETTER XXIII. Lady G---- to Miss Byron. --Invitation to dinner. Account of a matrimonial altercation, and of thearrival of Lady Olivia. 

LETTER XXIV. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Encloses Lady G----'s letter, and describes her concern for Lord G----. 

LETTER XXV. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Lady Olivia is introduced to Miss Byron. Some traits in that lady'scharacter related by Dr. Bartlett. She declares her passion for SirCharles to Lady L----. She endeavours to prevail on him to defer hisvoyage, and is indignant at meeting with a refusal. Miss Byron's exaltedbehaviour. 

LETTER XXVI. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Conversation with Sir Charles regarding Lord and Lady G----. His anxietyfor their happiness; but hopes much from Miss Byron's influence over hersister. 

LETTER XXVII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Sir Charles departs unexpectedly, from the kindest motives. The concernand solicitude of his friends. Miss Byron's mind much agitated. Theeldest of Mrs. Oldham's sons presented with a pair of colours by SirCharles. 

LETTER XXVIII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Account of Lady Olivia's behaviour. Her horrid attempt to stab SirCharles. Miss Byron describes the state of her own mind, and resolvesto return to Northamptonshire. 

LETTER XXIX. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Particulars of a very interesting conversation with Mrs. Reeves and LadyD----. Miss Byron's ingenuous reply to Lady D----'s interrogation. Herexplanation of some of Sir Charles's expressions in the library. Conference which had formerly embarrassed her. 

LETTER XXX. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Preparations for her journey into Northamptonshire. Regrets at partingwith friends. Lady Olivia is desirous of visiting Miss Byron. Remarkson politeness. Unpleasant consequences sometimes resulting from it. Remarks on the conduct of Sir Charles. 

LETTER XXXI. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Lady G---- quarrels with her lord, who entreat Miss Byron's assistance ineffecting a reconciliation. That lady's kind advice and opinion. LadyG---- resumes her good humour; but will not acknowledge herself to havebeen in the wrong. 

LETTER XXXII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Relates what passed on a visit of Lady Olivia. Miss Byron pities theimpetuosity of her temper, and admires her many amiable qualities. Paysanother visit to Lady G----; and gives an account of the reconciliationbetween her and her husband. 

LETTER XXXIII. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Mr. Fowler brings a letter from Sir Rowland Meredith, most affectionatelysoliciting the hand of Miss Byron in favour of his nephew. 

LETTER XXXIV. Miss Byron to Sir Rowland Meredith. --She regards Sir Rowland as her father; avows her affection for SirCharles, notwithstanding his engagements with another lady, and disclaimsthe generous intentions of Sir Rowland in her favour, in his will. 

LETTER XXXV. Miss Byron to Miss Selby. --Arrangements for her journey. Thoughts on public amusements. Retrospect. Tender parting with Dr. Bartlett. 

LETTER XXXVI. Miss Byron to Lady G----. --Description of her journey: account of those friends, who accompanied herto Dunstable; and of those who met her there, from Northamptonshire; ofMr. Grenville and Mr. Fenwick's collation for her at Stratford; of Mr. Orme again saluting her by the highway-side, as the coach passed hispark-wall; and of her kind reception at Selby-house. 

LETTER XXXVII. Lady G---- to Miss Byron. --The opinions of the Dunstable party respecting Miss Byron. Charms of themind superior to those of person. Lady G----'s opinion of Miss Byron'saunt Selby, and of her cousins Lucy and Nancy; thinks her uncle's wit toomuch studied; defends her own character, and the attack made by herselfand sister on Miss Byron at Colnebrooke. Lord G---- proposes partingwith his collection of moths and shells: gives the latter to MissJervois, at his lady's request, and presents Lady G---- with a set of oldJapan china. 

LETTER XXXVIII. Miss Jervois to Miss Byron. --Her regret at parting with Miss Byron at Stratford: encomiums on herguardian and Mr. Beauchamp: censures the conduct of Lady G---- to herlord. Instance of her dutiful behaviour to her mother, on accidentallymeeting with her. 

LETTER XXXIX. Miss Byron to Lady G----. --Reproves Lady G---- for her levity. Does not find the society of hercountry friends relieve the anxiety of her mind: laments the absence ofthose she has just left: is visited by Mr. Fenwick, Mr. Grenville, andMr. Orme. Mr. Grenville's rudeness, and her own magnanimity. Hears ofSir Hargrave Pollexfen's return. 

LETTER XL. Lady G---- to Miss Byron. --Ideas of female delicacy. Report of Sir Hargrave's return confirmed. Sir Charles meets with an adventure on the road to Paris. Delivers SirHargrave and Mr. Merceda from the chastisement of an enraged husband. Sir Charles's firmness and temper on the occasion. 

LETTER XLI. Lady G---- to Miss Byron. --Reflections on the amusements of London. Her love of contradiction. Shepins her apron to Lord G----'s coat, and blames him for it. He wishesher to be presented at court. Quarrel on the occasion. 

LETTER XLII. Lady G---- to Miss Byron. --Favourable issue expected of the law-suit between the Mansfields and theKeelings. Mr. Everard Grandison ruined by gamesters, and threatened witha prosecution for a breach of promise of marriage. The arrival of heraunt Eleanor. Sir Hargrave and Mr. Merceda in a dangerous state. Mr. Bagenhall obliged to marry the manufacturer's daughter of Abbeville, whomhe had seduced. Miss Clements comes into a fortune by the death of hermother and aunt. 

LETTER XLIII. Mr. Lowther to John Arnold, Esq. --Quits Paris with Sir Charles, and arrives at St. Jean Maurienne. Description of the country. Mr. Lowther is detained by indisposition. Sir Charles and he proceed on their journey. Account of the manner ofcrossing the mountains. They arrive at Parma. Their reception by thebishop of Nocera and Father Marescotti. 

LETTER XLIV. Sir Charles Grandison to Dr. Bartlett. --The bishop of Nocera's melancholy account of the health of his brotherand sister. The Count of Belvedere acquaints Sir Charles with hisunabated passion for Lady Clementina. Affecting interview between SirCharles and Signor Jeronymo. He is kindly received by the marquis andmarchioness. The sufferings of Jeronymo under the hands of an unskilfulsurgeon, with a brief history of his case. Sir Charles tells themarchioness that he considers himself bound by his former offers, shouldClementina recover. The interested motives of Lady Sforza and Lauranafor treating Clementina with cruelty. Remarks on Lady Olivia's conduct, and on female delicacy. Sir Charles recommends Miss Byron as a patternfor his ward, and laments the depravity of Sir Hargrave and his friends. 

LETTER I

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY

Miss Byron, To Miss Selby. 

O my Lucy! What think you!--But it is easy to guess what you must think. I will, without saying one word more, enclose

DR. BARTLETT'S TENTH LETTER

The next day (proceeds my patron) I went to make my visit to the family. I had nothing to reproach myself with; and therefore had no other concernupon me but what arose from the unhappiness of the noble Clementina: thatindeed was enough. I thought I should have some difficulty to manage myown spirit, if I were to find myself insulted, especially by the general. Soldiers are so apt to value themselves on their knowledge of what, afterall, one may call but their trade, that a private gentleman is oftenthought too slightly of by them. Insolence in a great man, a rich man, or a soldier, is a call upon a man of spirit to exert himself. But Ihope, thought I, I shall not have this call from any one of a family I sogreatly respect. 

I was received by the bishop; who politely, after I had paid mycompliments to the marquis and his lady, presented me to those of theUrbino family to whom I was a stranger. Every one of those named bySignor Jeronymo, in his last letter, was present. 

The marquis, after he had returned my compliment, looked another way, tohide his emotion: the marchioness put her handkerchief to her eyes, andlooked upon me with tenderness; and I read in them her concern for herClementina. 

I paid my respects to the general with an air of freedom, yet of regard;to my Jeronymo, with the tenderness due to our friendship, andcongratulated him on seeing him out of his chamber. His kind eyesglistened with pleasure; yet it was easy to read a mixture of pain inthem; which grew stronger as the first emotions at seeing me enter, gaveway to reflection. 

The Conte della Porretta seemed to measure me with his eye. 

I addressed myself to Father Marescotti, and made my particularacknowledgments to him for the favour of his visit, and what had passedin it. He looked upon me with pleasure; probably with the more, as thiswas a farewell visit. 

The two ladies whispered, and looked upon me, and seemed to bespeak eachother's attention to what passed. 

Signor Sebastiano placed himself next to Jeronymo, and often whisperedhim, and as often cast his eye upon me. He was partial to me, I believe, because my generous friend seemed pleased with what he said. 

His brother, Signor Juliano, sat on the other hand of me. They areagreeable and polite young gentlemen. 

A profound silence succeeded the general compliments. 

I addressed myself to the marquis: Your lordship, and you, madam, turningto the marchioness, I hope will excuse me for having requested of you thehonour of being once more admitted to your presence, and to that of threebrothers, for whom I shall ever retain the most respectful affection. Icould not think of leaving a city, where one of the first families in ithas done me the highest honour, without taking such a leave as might shewmy gratitude. --Accept, my lords, bowing to each; accept, madam, moreprofoundly bowing to the marchioness, my respectful thanks for all yourgoodness to me. I shall, to the end of my life, number most of the daysthat I have passed at Bologna among its happiest, even were the remainderto be as happy as man ever knew. 

The marquis said, We wish you, chevalier, very happy; happier than--Hesighed, and was silent. 

His lady only bowed. Her face spoke distress. Her voice was lost insighs, though she struggled to suppress them. 

Chevalier, said the bishop, with an air of solemnity, you have given usmany happy hours: for them we thank you. Jeronymo, for himself, will saymore: he is the most grateful of men. We thank you also for what youhave done for him. 

I cannot, said Jeronymo, express suitably my gratitude: my prayers, myvows, shall follow you whithersoever you go, best of friends, and best ofmen!

The general, with an air and a smile that might have been dispensed with, oddly said, High pleasure and high pain are very near neighbours: theyare often guilty of excesses, and then are apt to mistake each other'shouse. I am one of those who think our whole house obliged to thechevalier for the seasonable assistance he gave to our Jeronymo. But--

Dear general, said Lady Juliana, bear with an interruption: the intent ofthis meeting is amicable. The chevalier is a man of honour. Things mayhave fallen out unhappily; yet nobody to blame. 

As to blame, or otherwise, said the Conte della Porretta, that is not nowto be talked of; else, I know where it lies: in short, among ourselves. The chevalier acted greatly by Signor Jeronymo: we were all obliged tohim: but to let such a man as this have free admission to our daughter--She ought to have had no eyes. 

Pray, my lord, pray, brother, said the marquis, are we not enoughsufferers?

The chevalier, said the general, cannot but be gratified by so high acompliment; and smiled indignantly. 

My lord, replied I to the general, you know very little of the man beforeyou, if you don't believe him to be the most afflicted man present. 

Impossible! said the marquis, with a sigh. 

The marchioness arose from her seat, motioning to go; and turning roundto the two ladies, and the count, I have resigned my will to the will ofyou all, my dearest friends, and shall be permitted to withdraw. Thistestimony, however, before I go, I cannot but bear: Wherever the faultlay, it lay not with the chevalier. He has, from the first to the last, acted with the nicest honour. He is entitled to our respect. Theunhappiness lies nowhere but in the difference of religion. 

Well, and that now is absolutely out of the question, said the general:it is indeed, chevalier. 

I hope, my lord, from a descendant of a family so illustrious, to find anequal exemption from wounding words, and wounding looks; and that, sir, as well from your generosity, as from your justice. 

My looks give you offence, chevalier!--Do they?

I attended to the marchioness. She came towards me. I arose, andrespectfully took her hand. --Chevalier, said she, I could not withdrawwithout bearing the testimony I have borne to your merits. I wish youhappy. --God protect you, whithersoever you go. Adieu. 

She wept. I bowed on her hand with profound respect. She retired withprecipitation. It was with difficulty that I suppressed the rising tear. I took my seat. 

I made no answer to the general's last question, though it was spoken insuch a way (I saw by their eyes) as took every other person's notice. 

Lady Sforza, when her sister was retired, hinted, that the last interviewbetween the young lady and me was an unadvised permission, thoughintended for the best. 

I then took upon me to defend that step. Lady Clementina, said I, haddeclared, that if she were allowed to speak her whole mind to me, sheshould be easy. I had for some time given myself up to absolute despair. The marchioness intended not favour to me in allowing of the interview:it was the most affecting one to me I had ever known. But let me say, that, far from having bad effects on the young lady's mind, it had goodones. I hardly knew how to talk upon a subject so very interesting toevery one present, but not more so to any one than to myself. I thoughtof avoiding it; and have been led into it, but did not lead. And sinceit is before us, let me recommend, as the most effectual way to restoreevery one to peace and happiness, gentle treatment. The most generous ofhuman minds, the most meek, the most dutiful, requires not harshmethods. 

How do you know, sir, said the general, and looked at Jeronymo, themethods now taken--

And are they then harsh, my lord? said I. 

He was offended. 

I had heard, proceeded I, that a change of measures was resolved on. Iknew that the treatment before had been all gentle, condescending, indulgent. I received but yesterday letters from my father, signifyinghis intention of speedily recalling me to my native country. I shall setout very soon for Paris, where I hope to meet with his more directcommands for this long-desired end. What may be my destiny, I know not;but I shall carry with me a heart burdened with the woes of this family, and distressed for the beloved daughter of it. But let me bespeak youall, for your own sakes, (mine is out of the question: I presume not uponany hope on my own account, ) that you will treat this angelic-minded ladywith tenderness. I pretend to say, that I know that harsh or severemethods will not do. 

The general arose from his seat, and, with a countenance of fervor, nextto fierceness--Let me tell you, Grandison, said he--

I arose from mine, and going to Lady Sforza, who sat next him, he stopt, supposing me going to him, and seemed surprised, and attentive to mymotions: but, disregarding him, I addressed myself to that lady. You, madam, are the aunt of Lady Clementina: the tender, the indulgent motheris absent, and has declared, that she resigns her will to the will of herfriends present--Allow me to supplicate, that former measures may not bechanged with her. Great dawnings of returning reason did I discover inour last interview. Her delicacy (never was there a more delicate mind)wanted but to be satisfied. It was satisfied, and she began to be easy. Were her mind but once composed, the sense she has of her duty, and whatshe owes to her religion, would restore her to your wishes: but if sheshould be treated harshly, (though I am sure, if she should, it would bewith the best intention, ) Clementina will be lost. 

The general sat down. They all looked upon one another. The two ladiesdried their eyes. The starting tear would accompany my fervor. And thenstepping to Jeronymo, who was extremely affected; My dear Jeronymo, saidI, my friend, my beloved friend, cherish in your noble heart the memoryof your Grandison: would to God I could attend you to England! We havebaths there of sovereign efficacy. The balm of a friendly and gratefulheart would promote the cure. I have urged it before. Consider of it. 

My Grandison, my dear Grandison, my friend, my preserver! You are notgoing!--

I am, my Jeronymo, and embraced him. Love me in absence, as I shall you. 

Chevalier, said the bishop, you don't go? We hope for your company at asmall collation. --We must not part with you yet. 

I cannot, my lord, accept the favour. Although I had given myself up todespair of obtaining the happiness to which I once aspired; yet I was notwilling to quit a city that this family had made dear to me, with theprecipitation of a man conscious of misbehaviour. I thank you for thepermission I had to attend you all in full assembly. May God prosperyou, my lord; and may you be invested with the first honours of thatchurch which must be adorned by so worthy a heart! It will be my glory, when I am in my native place, or wherever I am, to remember that I wasonce thought not unworthy of a rank in a family so respectable. Let me, my lord, be entitled to your kind remembrance. 

He pulled out his handkerchief. My lord, said he, to his father; myLord, to the general; Grandison must not go!--and sat down with emotion. 

Lady Sforza wept: Laurana seemed moved: the two young lords, Sebastianoand Juliano, were greatly affected. 

I then addressed myself to the marquis, who sat undetermined, as tospeech: My venerable lord, forgive me, that my address was not first paidhere. My heart overflows with gratitude for your goodness in permittingme to throw myself at your feet, before I took a last farewell of a cityfavoured with your residence. Best of fathers, of friends, of men, letme entreat the continuance of your paternal indulgence to the childnearest, and deserving to be nearest, to your heart. She is all you andher mother. Restore her to yourself, and to her, by your indulgence:that alone, and a blessing on your prayers, can restore her. Adieu, mygood lord: repeated thanks for all your hospitable goodness to a man thatwill ever retain a grateful sense of your favour. 

You will not yet go, was all he said--he seemed in agitation. He couldnot say more. 

I then, turning to the count his brother, who sat next him, said, I havenot the honour to be fully known to your lordship: some prejudices fromdifferences in opinion may have been conceived: but if you ever hearanything of the man before you unworthy of his name, and of the favouronce designed him; then, my lord, blame, as well as wonder at, thecondescension of your noble brother and sister in my favour. 

Who, I! Who, I! said that lord, in some hurry. --I think very well ofyou. I never saw a man, in my life, that I liked so well!

Your lordship does me honour. I say this the rather, as I may, on thissolemn occasion, taking leave of such honourable friends, charge myfuture life with resolutions to behave worthy of the favour I have metwith in this family. 

I passed from him to the general--Forgive, my lord, said I, the seemingformality of my behaviour in this parting scene: it is a very solemn oneto me. You have expressed yourself of me, and to me, my lord, with morepassion, (forgive me, I mean not to offend you, ) than perhaps you willapprove in yourself when I am far removed from Italy. For have you not anoble mind? And are you not a son of the Marquis della Porretta? Permitme to observe, that passion will make a man exalt himself, and degradeanother; and the just medium will be then forgot. I am afraid I havebeen thought more lightly of, than I ought to be, either in justice, orfor the honour of a person who is dear to every one present. My countrywas once mentioned with disdain: think not my vanity so much concerned inwhat I am going to say, as my honour: I am proud to be thought anEnglishman: yet I think as highly of every worthy man of every nationunder the sun, as I do of the worthy men of my own. I am not of acontemptible race in my own country. My father lives in it with themagnificence of a prince. He loves his son; yet I presume to add, thatthat son deems his good name his riches; his integrity his grandeur. Princes, though they are entitled by their rank to respect, are princesto him only as they act. 

A few words more, my lord. 

I have been of the hearing, not of the speaking side of the question, inthe two last conferences I had the honour to hold with your lordship. Once you unkindly mentioned the word triumph. The word at the time wentto my heart. When I can subdue the natural warmth of my temper, then, and then only, I have a triumph. I should not have remembered this, hadI not now, my lord, on this solemn occasion, been received by you with anindignant eye. I respect your lordship too much not to take notice ofthis angry reception. My silence upon it, perhaps, would look likesubscribing before this illustrious company to the justice of yourcontempt: yet I mean no other notice than this; and this to demonstratethat I was not, in my own opinion at least, absolutely unworthy of thefavour I met with from the father, the mother, the brothers, you sojustly honour, and which I wished to stand in with you. 

And now, my lord, allow me the honour of your hand; and, as I have givenyou no cause for displeasure, say, that you will remember me withkindness, as I shall honour you and your whole family to the last day ofmy life. 

The general heard me out; but it was with great emotion. He accepted notmy hand; he returned not any answer: the bishop arose, and, taking himaside, endeavoured to calm him. 

I addressed myself to the two young lords, and said, that if ever theircuriosity led them to visit England, where I hoped to be in a few months, I should be extremely glad of cultivating their esteem and favour, by thebest offices I could do them. 

They received my civility with politeness. 

I addressed myself next to Lady Laurana--May you, madam, the friend, theintimate, the chosen companion of Lady Clementina, never know thehundredth part of the woe that fills the breast of the man before you, for the calamity that has befallen your admirable cousin, and, because ofthat, a whole excellent family. Let me recommend to you, that tender andsoothing treatment to her, which her tender heart would shew to you, inany calamity that should befall you. I am not a bad man, madam, thoughof a different communion from yours. Think but half so charitably of me, as I do of every one of your religion who lives up to his professions, and I shall be happy in your favourable thoughts when you hear me spokenof. 

It is easy to imagine, Dr. Bartlett, that I addressed myself in thismanner to this lady whom I had never before seen, that she might notthink the harder of her cousin's prepossessions in favour of aProtestant. 

I recommended myself to the favour of Father Marescotti. He assured meof his esteem, in very warm terms. 

And just as I was again applying to my Jeronymo, the general came to me:You cannot think, sir, said he, nor did you design it, I suppose, that Ishould be pleased with your address to me. I have only this question toask, When do you quit Bologna?

Let me ask your lordship, said I, when do you return to Naples?

Why that question, sir? haughtily. 

I will answer you frankly. Your lordship, at the first of myacquaintance with you, invited me to Naples. I promised to pay myrespects to you there. If you think of being there in a week, I willattend you at your own palace in that city; and there, my lord, I hope, no cause to the contrary having arisen from me, to be received by youwith the same kindness and favour that you shewed when you gave me theinvitation. I think to leave Bologna to-morrow. 

O brother! said the bishop, are you not now overcome?

And are you in earnest? said the general. 

I am, my lord. I have many valuable friends, at different courts andcities in Italy, to take leave of. I never intend to see it again. Iwould look upon your lordship as one of those friends; but you seem stilldispleased with me. You accepted not my offered hand before; once more Itender it. A man of spirit cannot be offended at a man of spirit, without lessening himself. I call upon your dignity, my lord. 

He held out his hand, just as I was withdrawing mine. I have pride, youknow, Dr. Bartlett; and I was conscious of a superiority in thisinstance: I took his hand, however, at his offer; yet pitied him, thathis motion was made at all, as it wanted that grace which generallyaccompanies all he does and says. 

The bishop embraced me. --Your moderation, thus exerted, said he, mustever make you triumph. O Grandison! you are a prince of the Almighty'screation. 

The noble Jeronymo dried his eyes, and held out his arms to embrace me. 

The general said, I shall certainly be at Naples in a week. I am toomuch affected by the woes of my family, to behave as perhaps I ought onthis occasion. Indeed, Grandison, it is difficult for sufferers to actwith spirit and temper at the same time. 

It is, my lord; I have found it so. My hopes raised, as once they were, now sunk, and absolute despair having taken place of them--Would to God Ihad never returned to Italy!--But I reproach not any body. 

Yet, said Jeronymo, you have some reason--To be sent for as you were--

He was going on--Pray, brother, said the general--And turning to me, Imay expect you, sir, at Naples?

You may, my lord. But one favour I have to beg of you mean time. It is, that you will not treat harshly your dear Clementina. Would to Heaven Imight have had the honour to say, my Clementina! And permit me to makeone other request on my own account: and that is, that you will tell her, that I took my leave of your whole family, by their kind permission; andthat, at my departure, I wished her, from my soul, all the happiness thatthe best and tenderest of her friends can wish her! I make this requestto you, my lord, rather than to Signor Jeronymo, because the tendernesswhich he has for me might induce him to mention me to her in a mannerwhich might, at this time, affect her too sensibly for her peace. 

Be pleased, my dear Signor Jeronymo, to make my devotion known to themarchioness. Would to Heaven--But adieu! and once more adieu, myJeronymo. I shall hear from you when I get to Naples, if not before. --God restore your sister, and heal you!

I bowed to the marquis, to the ladies, to the general, to the bishop, particularly; to the rest in general; and was obliged, in order toconceal my emotion, to hurry out at the door. The servants had plantedthemselves in a row; not for selfish motives, as in England: they bowedto the ground, and blessed me, as I went through them. I had ready apurse of ducats. One hand and another declined it: I dropt it in theirsight. God be with you, my honest friends! said I; and departed--O, Dr. Bartlett, with a heart how much distressed!

And now, my good Miss Byron, Have I not reason, from the deep concernwhich you take in the woes of Lady Clementina, to regret the task youhave put me upon? And do you, my good Lord and Lady L----, and MissGrandison, now wonder that your brother has not been forward to give youthe particulars of this melancholy tale? Yet you all say, I mustproceed. 

See, Lucy, the greatness of this man's behaviour! What a presumption wasit in your Harriet, ever to aspire to call such a one hers!

LETTER II

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY

This Lady Olivia, Lucy, what can she pretend to--But I will not puzzlemyself about her--Yet she pretend to give disturbance to such a man! Youwill find her mentioned in Dr. Bartlett's next letter; or she would nothave been named by me. 

***

DR. BARTLETT'S ELEVENTH LETTER

Mr. Grandison, on his return to his lodgings, found there, in disguise, Lady Olivia. He wanted not any new disturbance. But I will not mix thestories. 

The next morning he received a letter from Signor Jeronymo. Thefollowing is a translation of it:

***

My dearest Grandison!

How do you?--Ever amiable friend! What triumphs did your behaviour oflast night obtain for you! Not a soul here but admires you!

Even Laurana declared, that, were you a Catholic, it would be a merit tolove you. Yet she reluctantly praised you, and once said, What, butsplendid sins, are the virtues of a heretic?

Our two cousins, with the good-nature of youth, lamented that you couldnot be ours in the way you wish. My father wept like a child, when youwere gone; and seemed to enjoy the praises given you by every one. Thecount said, he never saw a nobler behaviour in man. Your free, yourmanly, your polite air and address, and your calmness and intrepidity, were applauded by every one. 

What joy did this give to your Jeronymo! I thought I wanted neithercrutches, helps, nor wheeled chair; and several times forgot that I ailedany thing. 

I begin to love Father Marescotti. He was with the foremost in praisingyou. 

The general owned, that he was resolved once to quarrel with you. Butwill he, do you think, Jeronymo, said he, make me a visit at Naples?

You may depend upon it, he will, answered I----

I will be there to receive him, replied he. 

They admired you particularly for your address to my sister, by thegeneral, rather than by me. And Lady Sforza said, it was a thousandpities that you and Clementina could not be one. They applauded, all ofthem, what they had not, any of them, the power to imitate, thatlargeness of heart which makes you think so well, and speak so tenderly, of those of communions different from your own. So much steadiness inyour own religion, yet so much prudence, in a man so young, they said, was astonishing! No wonder that your character ran so high, in everycourt you had visited. 

My mother came in soon after you had left us. She was equally surprisedand grieved to find you gone. She thought she was sure of your stayingsupper; and, not satisfied with the slight leave she had taken, she hadbeen strengthening her mind to pass an hour in your company, in order totake a more solemn one. 

My father asked her after her daughter. 

Poor soul! said she, she has heard that the chevalier was to be here, totake leave of us. 

By whom? by whom? said my father. 

I cannot tell: but the poor creature is half-raving to be admitted amongus. She has dressed herself in one of her best suits; and I found hersitting in a kind of form, expecting to be called down. Indeed, LadySforza, the method we are in, does not do. So the chevalier said, replied that lady. Well, let us change it, with all my heart. It is nopleasure to treat the dear girl harshly--O sister! this is a mostextraordinary man!

That moment in bolted Camilla--Lady Clementina is just at the door. Icould not prevail upon her--

We all looked upon one another. 

Three soft taps at the door, and a hem, let us know she was there. 

Let her come in, dear girl, let her come in, said the count: thechevalier is not here. 

Laurana arose, and ran to the door, and led her in by the hand. 

Dear creature, how wild she looked!--Tears ran down my cheeks: I had notseen her for two days before. O how earnestly did she look round her!withdrawing her hand from her cousin, who would have led her to a chair, and standing quite still. 

Come and sit by me, my sweet love, said her weeping mother. --She stepttowards her. 

Sit down, my dear girl. 

No: you beat me, remember. 

Who beat you, my dear?--Sure nobody would beat my child!--Who beat you, Clementina?

I don't know--Still looking round her, as wanting somebody. 

Again her mother courted her to sit down. 

No, madam, you don't love me. 

Indeed, my dear, I do. 

So you say. 

Her father held out his open arms to her. Tears ran down his cheeks. Hecould not speak. --Ah, my father! said she, stepping towards him. 

He caught her in his arms--Don't, don't, sir, faintly struggling, withaverted face--You love me not--You refused to see your child, when shewanted to claim your protection!--I was used cruelly. 

By whom, my dear? by whom?

By every body. I complained to one, and to another; but all were in atone: and so I thought I would be contented. My mamma, too!--But it isno matter. I saw it was to be so; and I did not care. 

By my soul, said I, this is not the way with her, Lady Sforza. Thechevalier is in the right. You see how sensible she is of harshtreatment. 

Well, well, said the general, let us change our measures. 

Still the dear girl looked out earnestly, as for somebody. 

She loosed herself from the arms of her sorrowing father. 

Let us in silence, said the count, observe her motions. 

She went to him on tip-toe, and looking in his face over his shoulder, ashe sat with his back towards her, passed him; then to the general; thento Signor Sebastiano; and to every one round, till she came to me;looking at each over his shoulder in the same manner: then folding herfingers, her hands open, and her arms hanging down to their full extent, she held up her face meditating, with such a significant woe, that Ithought my heart would have burst. --Not a soul in the company had a dryeye. 

Lady Sforza arose, took her two hands, the fingers still clasped, andwould have spoken to her, but could not; and hastily retired to her seat. 

Tears, at last, began to trickle down her cheeks, as she stood fixedlylooking up. She started, looked about her, and hastening to her mother, threw her arms about her neck; and, hiding her face in her bosom, brokeout into a flood of tears, mingled with sobs that penetrated every heart. 

The first words she said, were, Love me, my mamma! Love your child! yourpoor child! your Clementina! Then raising her head, and again laying itin her mother's bosom--If ever you loved me, love me now, my mamma!--Ihave need of your love!

My father was forced to withdraw. He was led out by his two sons. 

Your poor Jeronymo was unable to help himself. He wanted as much comfortas his father. What were the wounds of his body, at that time, to thoseof his mind?

My two brothers returned. This dear girl, said the bishop, will breakall our hearts. 

Her tears had seemed to relieve her. She held up her head. My mother'sbosom seemed wet with her child's tears and her own. Still she lookedround her. 

Suppose, said I, somebody were to name the man she seems to look for? Itmay divert this wildness. 

Did she come down, said Laurana to Camilla, with the expectation ofseeing him?

She did. 

Let me, said the bishop, speak to her. He arose, and, taking her hand, walked with her about the room. You look pretty, my Clementina! Yourornaments are charmingly fancied. What made you dress yourself soprettily?

She looked earnestly at him, in silence. He repeated his question--Ispeak, said she, all my heart; and then I suffer for it. Every body isagainst me. 

You shall not suffer for it: every body is for you. 

I confessed to Mrs. Beaumont; I confessed to you, brother: but what did Iget by it?--Let go my hand. I don't love you, I believe. 

I am sorry for it. I love you, Clementina, as I love my own soul!

Yet you never chide your own soul!

He turned his face from her to us. She must not be treated harshly, saidhe. He soothed her in a truly brotherly manner. 

Tell me, added he to his soothings, Did you expect any body here, thatyou find not?

Did I? Yes, I did. --Camilla, come hither. --Let go my hand, brother. 

He did. She took Camilla under the arm--Don't you know, Camilla, saidshe, what you heard said of somebody's threatening somebody?--Don't letanybody hear us; drawing her to one end of the room. --I want to take awalk with you into the garden, Camilla. 

It is dark night, madam. 

No matter. If you are afraid, I will go by myself. 

Seem to humour her in talk, Camilla, said the count; but don't go out ofthe room with her. 

Be pleased to tell me, madam, what we are to walk in the garden for?

Why, Camilla, I had a horrid dream last night; and I cannot be easy tillI go into the garden. 

What, madam, was your dream?

In the orange grove, I thought I stumbled over the body of a dead man!

And who was it, madam?

Don't you know who was threatened? And was not somebody here to night?And was not somebody to sup here? And is he here?

The general then went to her. My dearest Clementina; my beloved sister;set your heart at rest. Somebody is safe: shall be safe. 

She took first one of his hands, then the other; and looking in the palmsof them, They are not bloody, said she. --What have you done with him, then? Where is he?

Where is who?

You know whom I ask after; but you want something against me. 

Then stepping quick up to me: My Jeronymo!--Did I see you before? andstroked my cheek. --Now tell me, Jeronymo--Don't come near me, Camilla. Pray, sir, to the general, do you sit down. She leaned her arm upon myshoulder: I don't hurt you, Jeronymo: do I?

No, my dearest Clementina!

That's my best brother. --Cruel assassins!--But the brave man came just intime to save you. --But do you know what is become of him?

He is safe, my dear. He could not stay. 

Did any body affront him?

No, my love. 

Are you sure nobody did?--Very sure? Father Marescotti, said she, turningto him, (who wept from the time she entered, ) you don't love him: but youare a good man, and will tell me truth. Where is he? Did nobody affronthim?

No, madam. 

Because, said she, he never did any thing but good to any one. 

Father Marescotti, said I, admires him as much as any body. 

Admire him! Father Marescotti admire him!--But he does not love him. And I never heard him say one word against Father Marescotti in my life. --Well, but, Jeronymo, what made him go away, then? Was he not to staysupper?

He was desired to stay; but would not. 

Jeronymo, let me whisper you--Did he tell you that I wrote him a letter?

I guessed you did, whispered I. 

You are a strange guesser: but you can't guess how I sent it to him--Buthush, Jeronymo--Well, but, Jeronymo, Did he say nothing of me, when hewent away?

He left his compliments for you with the general. 

With the general! The general won't tell me!

Yes, he will. --Brother, pray tell my sister what the chevalier said toyou, at parting. 

He repeated, exactly, what you had desired him to say to her. 

Why would they not let me see him? said she. Am I never to see him more?

I hope you will, replied the bishop. 

If, resumed she, we could have done any thing that might have looked likea return to his goodness to us (and to you, my Jeronymo, in particular) Ibelieve I should have been easy. --And so you say he is gone?--And gonefor ever! lifting up her hand from her wrist, as it lay over my shoulder:Poor chevalier!--But hush, hush, pray hush, Jeronymo. 

She went from me to her aunt, and cousin Laurana. Love me again, madam, said she, to the former. You loved me once. 

I never loved you better than now, my dear. 

Did you, Laurana, see the Chevalier Grandison?

I did. 

And did he go away safe, and unhurt?

Indeed he did. 

A man who had preserved the life of our dear Jeronymo, said she, to havebeen hurt by us, would have been dreadful, you know. I wanted to say afew words to him. I was astonished to find him not here: and then mydream came into my head. It was a sad dream, indeed! But, cousin, begood to me: pray do. You did not use to be cruel. You used to say, youloved me. I am in calamity, my dear. I know I am miserable. At times Iknow I am; and then I am grieved at my heart, and think how happy everyone is, but me: but then, again, I ail nothing, and am well. But do loveme, Laurana: I am in calamity, my dear. I would love you, if you were incalamity: indeed I would. --Ah, Laurana! What is become of all your finepromises? But then every body loved me, and I was happy!--Yet you tellme, it is all for my good. Naughty Laurana, to wound my heart by yourcrossness, and then say, it is for my good!--Do you think I should haveserved you so?

Laurana blushed, and wept. Her aunt promised her, that every body wouldlove her, and comfort her, and not be angry with her, if she would makeher heart easy. 

I am very particular, my dear Grandison. I know you love I should be so. From this minuteness, you will judge of the workings of her mind. Theyare resolved to take your advice, (it was very seasonable, ) and treat herwith indulgence. The count is earnest to have it so. 

***

Camilla has just left me. She says, that her young lady had a tolerablenight. She thinks it owing, in a great measure, to her being indulged inasking the servants, who saw you depart, how you looked; and beingsatisfied that you went away unhurt, and unaffronted. 

Adieu, my dearest, my best friend. Let me hear from you, as often as youcan. 

***

I just now understand from Camilla, that the dear girl has made anearnest request to my father, mother, and aunt; and been refused. Shecame back from them deeply afflicted; and, as Camilla fears, is goinginto one of her gloomy fits again. I hope to write again, if you departnot from Bologna before to-morrow: but I must, for my own sake, writeshorter letters. Yet how can I? Since, however melancholy the subject, when I am writing to you, I am conversing with you. My dear Grandison, once more adieu. 

O Lucy, my dear! Whence come all the tears this melancholy story hascost me? I cannot dwell upon the scenes!--Begone, all those wishes thatwould interfere with the interest of that sweet distressed saint atBologna!

How impolitic, Lucy, was it in them, not to gratify her impatience to seehim! She would, most probably, have been quieted in her mind, if she hadbeen obliged by one other interview. 

What a delicacy, my dear, what a generosity, is there in her love!

Sir Charles, in Lord L----'s study, said to me, that his compassion wasengaged, but his honour was free: and so it seems to be: but a generosityin return for her generosity, must bind such a mind as his. 

LETTER III

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY

In the doctor's next letter, enclosed, you will find mention made of SirCharles's Literary Journal. I fancy, my dear, it must be a charmingthing. I wish we could have before us every line he wrote while he wasin Italy. Once the presumptuous Harriet had hopes, that she might havebeen entitled--But no more of these hopes--It can't be helped, Lucy. 

***

DR. BARTLETT'S TWELFTH LETTER

Mr. Grandison proceeds thus:

The next morning I employed myself in visiting and taking leave ofseveral worthy members of the university, with whom I had passed manyvery agreeable and improving hours, during my residence in this noblecity. In my Literary Journal you have an account of those worthypersons, and of some of our conversations. I paid my duty to thecardinal legate, and the gonfaloniere, and to three of his counsellors, by whom, you know, I had been likewise greatly honoured. My mind was notfree enough to enjoy their conversation: such a weight upon my heart, howcould it? But the debt of gratitude and civility was not to be leftunpaid. 

On my return to my lodgings, which was not till the evening, I found, thegeneral had been there to inquire after me. 

I sent one of my servants to the palace of Porretta, with my complimentsto the general, to the bishop, and Jeronymo; and with particularinquiries after the health of the ladies, and the marquis; but had only ageneral answer, that they were much as I left them. 

The two young lords, Sebastiano and Juliano, made me a visit of ceremony. They talked of visiting England in a year or two. I assured them of mybest services, and urged them to go thither. I asked them after thehealths of the marquis, the marchioness, and their beloved cousinClementina. Signor Sebastiano shook his head: very, very indifferent, were his words. We parted with great civilities. 

I will now turn my thoughts to Florence, and to the affairs there thathave lain upon me, from the death of my good friend Mr. Jervois, and frommy wardship. I told you in their course, the steps I took in thoseaffairs; and how happy I had been in some parts of management. There Ihope soon to see you, my dear Dr. Bartlett, from the Levant, to whosecare I can so safely consign my precious trust, while I go to Paris, andattend the wished-for call of my father to my native country, from whichI have been for so many years an exile. 

There also, I hope to have some opportunities of conversing with my goodMrs. Beaumont; resolving to make another effort to get so valuable aperson to restore herself to my beloved England. 

Thus, my dear Dr. Bartlett, do I endeavour to console myself, in order tolighten that load of grief which I labour under on the distresses of thedear Clementina. If I can leave her happy, I shall be sooner so, than Icould have been in the same circumstances, had I, from the first of myacquaintance with the family, (to the breach of all the laws ofhospitality, ) indulged a passion for her. 

Yet is the unhappy Olivia a damp upon my endeavours after consolation. When she made her unseasonable visit to me at Bologna, she refused toreturn to Florence without me, till I assured her, that as my affairswould soon call me thither, I would visit her at her own palace, as oftenas those affairs would permit. Her pretence for coming to Bologna was, to induce me to place Emily with her, till I had settled every thing formy carrying the child to England; but I was obliged to be peremptory inmy denial, though she had wrought so with Emily, as to induce her to bean earnest petitioner to me, to permit her to live with Lady Olivia, whose equipages, and the glare in which she lives, had dazzled the eyesof the young lady. 

***

I was impatient to hear again from Jeronymo; and just as I was settingout for Florence, in despair of that favour, it being the second dayafter my farewell visit, I had the following letter from him:

I have not been well, my dear Grandison. I am afraid the wound in myshoulder must be laid open again. God give me patience! But my life isa burden to me. 

We are driving here at a strange rate. They promised to keep measureswith the dear creature; but she has heard that you are leaving Bologna, and raves to see you. 

Poor soul! She endeavoured to prevail upon her father, mother, aunt, topermit her to see you, but for five minutes: that was the petition whichwas denied her, as I mentioned in my last. 

Camilla was afraid that she would go into a gloomy fit upon it, as I toldyou--She did; but it lasted not long: for she made an effort, soon after, to go out of the house by way of the garden. The gardener refused hiskey, and brought Camilla to her, whom she had, by an innocent piece ofart, but just before, sent to bring her something from her toilette. 

The general went with Camilla to her. They found her just setting aladder against the wall. She heard them, and screamed, and, leaving theladder, ran, to avoid them, till she came in sight of the great cascade;into which, had she not by a cross alley been intercepted by the general, it is feared she would have thrown herself. 

This has terrified us all: she begs but for one interview; one partinginterview; and she promises to make herself easy: but it is not thoughtadvisable. Yet Father Marescotti himself thought it best to indulge her. Had my mother been earnest, I believe it had been granted: but she is somuch concerned at the blame she met with on permitting the lastinterview, that she will not contend, though she has let them know, thatshe did not oppose the request. 

The unhappy girl ran into my chamber this morning --Jeronymo; he will begone! said she: I know he will. All I want, is but to see him! To wishhim happy! And to know, if he will remember me when he is gone, as Ishall him!--Have you no interest, Jeronymo? Cannot I once see him? Notonce?

The bishop, before I could answer, came in quest of her, followed byLaurana, from whom she had forcibly disengaged herself, to come to me. 

Let me have but one parting interview, my lord, said she, looking to him, and clinging about my neck. He will be gone: gone for ever. Is there somuch in being allowed to say, Farewell, and be happy, Grandison! andexcuse all the trouble I have given you?--What has my brother's preserverdone, what have I done, that I must not see him, nor he me, for onequarter of an hour only?

Indeed, my lord, said I, she should be complied with. Indeed she should. 

My father thinks otherwise, said the bishop: the count thinks otherwise:I think otherwise. Were the chevalier a common man, she might. But shedwells upon what passed in the last interview, and his behaviour to her. That, it is plain, did her harm. 

The next may drive the thoughts of that out of her head, returned I. 

Dear Jeronymo, replied he, a little peevishly, you will always thinkdifferently from every body else! Mrs. Beaumont comes to-morrow. 

What do I care for Mrs. Beaumont? said she. --I don't love her: she tellsevery thing I say. 

Come, my dear love, said Laurana, you afflict your brother Jeronymo. Letus go up to your own chamber. 

I afflict every body, and every body afflicts me; and you are all cruel. Why, he will be gone, I tell you! That makes me so impatient: and I havesomething to say to him. My father won't see me: my mother renounces me. I have been looking for her, and she hides herself from me!--And I am aprisoner, and watched, and used ill!

Here comes my mother! said Laurana. You now must go up to your chamber, cousin Clementina. 

So she does, said she; now I must go, indeed!--Ah, Jeronymo! Now thereis no saying nay. --But it is hard! very hard!--And she burst into tears. I won't speak though, said she, to my aunt. Remember, I will be silent, madam!--Then whispering me, My aunt, brother, is not the aunt she used tobe to me!--But hush, I don't complain, you know!

By this I saw that Lady Sforza was severe with her. 

She addressed herself to her aunt: You are not my mamma, are you, madam?

No, child. 

No, child, indeed! I know that too well. But my brother Giacomo is ascruel to me as any body. But hush, Jeronymo!--Don't you betray me!--Nowmy aunt is come, I must go!--I wish I could run away from you all!

She was yesterday detected writing a letter to you. My mother was shewnwhat she had written, and wept over it. My aunt took it out of mysister's bosom, where she had thrust it, on her coming in. This sheresented highly. 

When she was led into her own chamber, she refused to speak; but in greathurry went to her closet, and, taking down her bible, turned over oneleaf and another very quick. Lady Sforza had a book in her hand, and satover-against the closet-door to observe her motions. She came to aplace--Pretty! said she. 

The bishop had formerly given her a smattering of Latin--She took pen andink, and wrote. You'll see, chevalier, the very great purity of herthoughts, by what she omitted, and what she chose, from the Canticles. Velut unguentum diffunditur nomen tuum &c. 

[In the English translation, thus: Thy name is as ointment poured forth;therefore do the virgins love thee. Draw me; we will run after thee: theupright love thee. 

Look not upon me because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me. My mother's children were angry with me: they made me the keeper of thevineyards, but mine own vineyard have I not kept. 

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth! where thou feedest, where thoumakest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turnethaside by the flocks of thy companions?]

She laid down her pen, and was thoughtful; her elbow resting on theescritoire she wrote upon, her hand supporting her head. 

May I look over you, my dear? said her aunt, stepping to her; and, takingup the paper, read it, and took it out of the closet with her, unopposed;her gentle bosom only heaving sighs. 

I will write no more, so minutely, on this affecting subject, myGrandison. 

They are all of opinion that she will be easy, when she knows that youhave actually left Bologna; and they strengthen their opinion by thesewords of hers, above-recited; 'Why he will be gone, I tell you; and thismakes me so impatient. '--At least, they are resolved to try theexperiment. And so, my dear Grandison, you must be permitted to leaveus!

God be your director and comforter, as well as ours! prays

Your ever affectionateJERONYMO. 

***

Mr. Grandison, having no hopes of being allowed to see the unhappy lady, set out with a heavy heart for Florence. He gave orders there, and atLeghorn, that the clerks and agents of his late friend Mr. Jervois shouldprepare every thing for his inspection against his return from Naples;and then he set out for that city, to attend the general. 

He had other friends to whom he had endeared himself at Sienna, Ancona, and particularly at Rome, as he had also some at Naples; of whom heintended to take leave, before he set out for Paris: and therefore wentto attend the general with the greater pleasure. 

Within the appointed time he arrived at Naples. 

The general received me, said Mr. Grandison, with greater tokens ofpoliteness than affection. You are the happiest man in the world, chevalier, said he, after the first compliments, in escaping dangers bybraving them. I do assure you, that I had great difficulties to denymyself the favour of paying you a visit in my own way at Bologna. I hadindeed resolved to do it, till you proposed this visit to me here. 

I should have been very sorry, replied I, to have seen a brother of LadyClementina in any way that should not have made me consider him as herbrother. But, before I say another word, let me ask after her health. How does the most excellent of women?

You have not heard, then?

I have not, my lord: but it is not for want of solicitude: I have sentthree several messengers: but can hear nothing to my satisfaction. 

Nor can you hear any thing from me that will give you any. 

I am grieved at my soul, that I cannot. How, my lord, do the marquis andmarchioness?

Don't ask. They are extremely unhappy. 

I hear that my dear friend, Signor Jeronymo, has undergone--

A dreadful operation, interrupted the general. --He has. Poor Jeronymo!He could not write to you. God preserve my brother! But, chevalier, youdid not save half a life, though we thank you for that, when you restoredhim to our arms. 

I had no reason to boast, my lord, of the accident. I never made a meritof it. It was a mere accident, and cost me nothing. The service wasgreatly over-rated. 

Would to God, chevalier, it had been rendered by any other man in theworld!

As it has proved, I am sure, my lord, I have reason to join in the wish. 

He shewed me his pictures, statues, and cabinet of curiosities, whiledinner was preparing; but rather for the ostentation of his magnificenceand taste, than to do me pleasure. I even observed an increasingcoldness in his behaviour; and his eye was too often cast upon me with afierceness that shewed resentment; and not with the hospitable franknessthat became him to a visitor and guest, who had undertaken a journey ofabove two hundred miles, principally to attend him, and to shew him theconfidence he had in his honour. This, as it was more to his dishonourthan mine, I pitied him for. But what most of all disturbed me, was, that I could not obtain from him any particular intelligence relating tothe health of one person, whose distresses lay heavy upon my heart. 

There were several persons of distinction at dinner; the discourse couldtherefore be only general. He paid me great respect at his table, but itwas a solemn one. I was the more uneasy at it, as I apprehended, thatthe situation of the Bologna family was more unhappy than when I leftthat city. 

He retired with me into his garden. You stay with me at least the weekout, chevalier?

No, my lord: I have affairs of a deceased friend at Florence and atLeghorn to settle. To-morrow, as early as I can, I shall set out forRome, in my way to Tuscany. 

I am surprised, chevalier. You take something amiss in my behaviour. 

I cannot say that your lordship's countenance (I am a very free speaker)has that benignity in it, that complacency, which I have had the pleasureto see in it. 

By G--! chevalier, I could have loved you better than any man in theworld, next to the men of my own family; but I own I see you not herewith so much love as admiration. 

The word admiration, my lord, may require explanation. You may admire atmy confidence: but I thank you for the manly freedom of youracknowledgment in general. 

By admiration I mean, all that may do you honour. Your bravery in cominghither, particularly; and your greatness of mind on your taking leave ofus all. But did you not then mean to insult me?

I meant to observe to you then, as I now do in your own palace, that youhad not treated me as my heart told me I deserved to be treated: but whenI thought your warmth was rising to the uneasiness of your assembledfriends, instead of answering your question about my stay at Bologna, asyou seemed to mean it, I invited myself to an attendance upon you here, at Naples, in such a manner as surely could not be construed as insult. 

I own, Grandison, you disconcerted me. I had intended to save you thatjourney. 

Was that your lordship's meaning, when, in my absence, you called at mylodgings, the day after the farewell-visit?

Not absolutely: I was uneasy with myself. I intended to talk to you. What that talk might have produced, I know not: but had I invited youout, if I had found you at home, would you have answered my demands?

According as you had put them. 

Will you answer them now, if I attend you as far as Rome, on your returnto Florence?

If they are demands fit to be answered. 

Do you expect I will make any that are not fit to be answered?

My lord, I will explain myself. You had conceived causeless prejudicesagainst me: you seemed inclined to impute to me a misfortune that wasnot, could not be, greater to you than it was to me. I knew my owninnocence: I knew that I was rather an injured man, in having hopes givenme, in which I was disappointed, not by my own fault: whom shall aninnocent and an injured man fear?--Had I feared, my fear might have beenmy destruction. For was I not in the midst of your friends? Aforeigner? If I would have avoided you, could I, had you been determinedto seek me?--I would choose to meet even an enemy as a man of honour, rather than to avoid him as a malefactor. In my country, the lawsupposes flight a confession of guilt. Had you made demands upon me thatI had not chosen to answer, I would have expostulated with you. I couldperhaps have done so as calmly as I now speak. If you would not havebeen expostulated with, I would have stood upon my defence: but for theworld I would not have hurt a brother of Clementina and Jeronymo, a sonof the marquis and marchioness of Porretta, could I have avoided it. Hadyour passion given me any advantage over you, and I had obtained yoursword, (a pistol, had the choice been left to me, I had refused for bothour sakes, ) I would have presented both swords to you, and bared mybreast: It was before penetrated by the distresses of the dearClementina, and of all your family--Perhaps I should only have said, 'Ifyour lordship thinks I have injured you, take your revenge. '

And now, that I am at Naples, let me say, that if you are determined, contrary to all my hopes, to accompany me to Rome, or elsewhere, on myreturn, with an unfriendly purpose; such, and no other, shall be mybehaviour to you, if the power be given me to shew it. I will rely on myown innocence, and hope by generosity to overcome a generous man. Letthe guilty secure themselves by violence and murder. 

Superlative pride! angrily said he, and stood still, measuring me withhis eye: And could you hope for such an advantage?

While I, my lord, was calm, and determined only upon self-defence; whileyou were passionate, and perhaps rash, as aggressors generally are; I didnot doubt it: but could I have avoided drawing, and preserved your goodopinion, I would not have drawn. Your lordship cannot but know myprinciples. 

Grandison, I do know them; and also the general report in your favour forskill and courage. Do you think I would have heard with patience of theonce proposed alliance, had not your character--And then he was pleasedto say many things in my favour, from the report of persons who hadweight with him; some of whom he named. 

But still, Grandison, said he, this poor girl!--She could not have beenso deeply affected, had not some lover-like arts--

Let me, my lord, interrupt you--I cannot bear an imputation of this kind. Had such arts been used, the lady could not have been so much affected. Cannot you think of your noble sister, as a daughter of the two housesfrom which you sprang? Cannot you see her, as by Mrs. Beaumont's meanswe now so lately have been able to see her, struggling nobly with her ownheart, [Why am I put upon this tender subject?] because of her duty andher religion; and resolved to die rather than encourage a wish that wasnot warranted by both?--I cannot, my lord, urge this subject: but therenever was a passion so nobly contended with. There never was a man moredisinterested, and so circumstanced. Remember only, my voluntarydeparture from Bologna, against persuasion; and the great behaviour ofyour sister on that occasion; great, as it came out to be, when Mrs. Beaumont brought her to acknowledge what would have been my glory to haveknown, could it have been encouraged; but is now made my heaviestconcern. 

Indeed, Grandison, she ever was a noble girl! We are too apt perhaps togovern ourselves by events, without looking into causes: but the accessyou had to her; such a man! and who became known to us from circumstancesso much in his favour, both as a man of principle and bravery--

This, my lord, interrupted I, is still judging from events. You haveseen Mrs. Beaumont's letter. Surely you cannot have a nobler monument ofmagnanimity in woman! And to that I refer, for a proof of my ownintegrity. 

I have that letter: Jeronymo gave it me, at my taking leave of him; andwith these words: 'Grandison will certainly visit you at Naples. I amafraid of your warmth. His spirit is well known. All my dependance isupon his principles. He will not draw but in his own defence. Cherishthe noble visitor. Surely, brother, I may depend upon your hospitabletemper. Read over again this letter, before you see him. '--I have notyet read it, proceeded the general; but I will, and that, if you willallow me, now. 

He took it out of his pocket, walked from me, and read it; and then cameto me, and took my hand--I am half ashamed of myself, my dear Grandison:I own I wanted magnanimity. All the distresses of our family, on thisunhappy girl's account, were before my eyes, and I received you, Ibehaved to you, as the author of them. I was contriving to bedissatisfied with you: Forgive me, and command my best services. I willlet our Jeronymo know how greatly you subdued me before I had recourse tothe letter; but that I have since read that part of it which accounts formy sister's passion, and wish I had read it with equal attention before. I acquit you: I am proud of my sister. Yet I observe from this veryletter, that Jeronymo's gratitude has contributed to the evil we deplore. But--Let us not say one word more of the unhappy girl: It is painful tome to talk of her. 

Not ask a question, my lord?--

Don't, Grandison, don't!--Jeronymo and Clementina are my soul's woe--Butthey are not worse than might be apprehended. You go to court with meto-morrow: I will present you to the king. 

I have had that honour formerly. I must depart to-morrow morning early. I have already taken leave of several of my friends here: I have some tomake my compliments to at Rome, which I reserved for my return. 

You stay with me to-night?--I intend it, my lord. 

Well, we will return to company. I must make my excuses to my friends. Your departure to-morrow must be one. They all admire you. They areacquainted with your character. They will join with me to engage you, ifpossible, to stay longer. --We returned to the company. 

LETTER IV

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY

Receive now, my dear, the doctor's thirteenth letter, and the last heintends to favour us with, till he entertains us with the histories ofMrs. Beaumont, and Lady Olivia. 

***

DR. BARTLETT'S THIRTEENTH LETTER

Mr. Grandison set out next morning. The general's behaviour to him athis departure, was much more open and free than it was at receiving him. 

Mr. Grandison, on his return to Florence, entered into the affairs of hislate friend Mr. Jervois, with the spirit, and yet with the temper, forwhich he is noted, when he engages in any business. He put every thingin a happy train in fewer days than it would have cost some other personsmonths; for he was present himself on every occasion, and in everybusiness, where his presence would accelerate it; yet he hadembarrassments from Olivia. 

He found, before he set out for Naples, that Mrs. Beaumont, at theearnest request of the marchioness, was gone to Bologna. At his return, not hearing any thing from Signor Jeronymo, he wrote to Mrs. Beaumont, requesting her to inform him of the state of things in that family, asfar as she thought proper; and, particularly, of the health of that dearfriend, on whose silence to three letters he had written, he had the mostmelancholy apprehensions. He let that lady know, that he should set outin a very few days for Paris, if he had no probability of being ofservice to the family she favoured with her company. 

To this letter Mrs. Beaumont returned the following answer:

SIR, I have the favour of yours. We are very miserable here. The servantsare forbidden to answer any inquiries, but generally; and that not truly. 

Your friend, Signor Jeronymo, has gone through a severe operation. Hehas been given over; but hopes are now entertained, not of his absoluterecovery, but that he will be no worse than he was before the necessityfor the operation arose. Poor man! He forgot not, however, his sisterand you, when he was out of the power of the opiates that wereadministered to him. 

On my coming hither, I found Lady Clementina in a deplorable way:Sometimes raving, sometimes gloomy; and in bonds--Twice had she giventhem apprehensions of fatal attempts: they, therefore, confined herhands. 

They have been excessively wrong in their management of her: nowsoothing, now severe; observing no method. 

She was extremely earnest to see you before you left Bologna. On herknees repeatedly she besought this favour, and promised to be easy ifthey would comply; but they imagined that their compliance wouldaggravate the symptoms. 

I very freely blamed them for not complying, at the time when she was sodesirous of seeing you. I told them, that soothing her would probablythen have done good. 

When they knew you were actually gone from Bologna, they told her so. Camilla shocked me with the description of her rage and despair, on thecommunication. This was followed by fits of silence, and the deepestmelancholy. 

They had hopes, on my arrival, that my company would have been of serviceto her: but for two days together she regarded me not, nor any thing Icould say to her. On the third of my arrival, finding her confinementextremely uneasy to her, I prevailed, but with great difficulty, to haveher restored to the use of her hands; and to be allowed to walk with mein the garden. They had hinted to me their apprehensions about a pieceof water. 

Her woman being near us, if there had been occasion for assistance, Iinsensibly led that way. She sat down on a seat over-against the greatcascade; but she made no motion that gave me apprehensions. From thistime she has been fonder of me than before. The day I obtained thisliberty for her, she often clasped her arms about me, and laid her facein my bosom; and I could plainly see, it was in gratitude for restoringto her the use of her arms: but she cared not to speak. 

Indeed she generally affects deep silence: yet, at times, I see her verysoul is fretted. She moves to one place, is tired of that, shifts toanother, and another, all round the room. 

I am grieved at my heart for her: I never knew a more excellent youngcreature. 

She is very attentive at her devotions, and as constant in them as sheused to be: Every good habit she preserves; yet, at other times, ramblesmuch. 

She is often for writing letters to you; but when what she writes isprivately taken from her, she makes no inquiry about it, but takes a newsheet, and begins again. 

Sometimes she draws; but her subjects are generally angels and saints. She often meditates in a map of the British dominions, and now and thenwishes she were in England. 

Lady Juliana de Sforza is earnest to have her with her at Urbino, or atMilan, where she has also a noble palace; but I hope it will not begranted. That lady professes to love her; but she cannot be persuadedout of her notion of harsh methods, which will never do with Clementina. 

I shall not be able to stay long with her. The discomposure of soexcellent a young creature affects me deeply. Could I do her either goodor pleasure, I should be willing to deny myself the society of my dearfriends at Florence: but I am persuaded, and have hinted as much, thatone interview with you would do more to settle her mind, than all themethods they have taken. 

I hope, sir, to see you before you leave Italy. It must be at Florence, not at Bologna, I believe. It is generous of you to propose the latter. 

I have now been here a week, without hope. The doctors they haveconsulted are all for severe methods, and low diet. The first, I think, is in compliment to some of the family. She is so loath to takenourishment, and when she does, is so very abstemious, that the regimenis hardly necessary. She never, or but very seldom, used to drink anything but water. 

She took it into her poor head several times this day, and perhaps itwill hold, to sit in particular places, to put on attentive looks, as ifshe were listening to somebody. She sometimes smiled, and seemedpleased; looked up, as if to somebody, and spoke English. I have nodoubt, though I was not present when she assumed these airs, and talkedEnglish, but her disordered imagination brought before her her tutorinstructing her in that tongue. 

You desired me, sir, to be very particular. I have been so; but at theexpense of my eyes: and I shall not wonder if your humane heart should beaffected by my sad tale. 

God preserve you, and prosper you in whatsoever you undertake!

HORTENSIA BEAUMONT

Mrs. Beaumont staid at Bologna twelve days, and then left the unhappyyoung lady. 

At taking leave, she asked her, what commands she had for her?--Love me, said she, and pity me; that is one. Another is, (whispering her, ) youwill see the chevalier, perhaps, though I must not. --Tell him, that hispoor friend Clementina is sometimes very unhappy!--Tell him, that sheshall rejoice to sit next him in heaven!--Tell him, that I say he cannotgo thither, good man as he is, while he shuts his eyes to the truth. --Tell him, that I shall take it very kindly of him, if he will not thinkof marrying till he acquaints me with it; and can give me assurance, thatthe lady will love him as well as somebody else would have done. --O Mrs. Beaumont! should the Chevalier Grandison marry a woman unworthy of him, what a disgrace would that be to me!

Mr. Grandison by this time had prepared everything for his journey toParis. The friend he honoured with his love, was arrived from theLevant, and the Archipelago. Thither, at his patron's request, he hadaccompanied Mr. Beauchamp, the amiable friend of both; and at parting, engaged to continue by letter what had been the subject of their dailyconversations, and transmit to him as many particulars as he could obtainof Mr. Grandison's sentiments and behaviour, on every occasion; Mr. Beauchamp proposing him as a pattern to himself, that he might be worthyof the credential letters he had furnished him with to every one whom hehad thought deserving of his own acquaintance, when he was in the partswhich Mr. Beauchamp intended to visit. 

To the care of the person so much honoured by his confidence, Mr. Grandison left his agreeable ward, Miss Jervois; requesting theassistance of Mrs. Beaumont, who kindly promised her inspection; and withthe goodness for which she is so eminently noted, performed her promisein his absence. 

He then made an offer to the bishop to visit Bologna once more; but thatnot being accepted, he set out for Paris. 

It was not long before his Father's death called him to England; and whenhe had been there a few weeks, he sent for his ward and his friend. 

But, my good Miss Byron, you will say, That I have not yet fully answeredyour last inquiry, relating to the present situation of the unhappyClementina. 

I will briefly inform you of it. 

When it was known, for certain, that Mr. Grandison had actually leftItaly, the family at Bologna began to wish that they had permitted theinterview so much desired by the poor lady: and when they afterwardsunderstood that he was sent for to England, to take possession of hispaternal estate, that farther distance, (the notion likewise of the seasbetween them appearing formidable, ) added to their regrets. 

The poor lady was kept in travelling motion to quiet her mind: for stillan interview with Mr. Grandison having never been granted, it was herfirst wish. 

They carried her to Urbino, to Rome, to Naples; then back to Florence, then to Milan, to Turin. 

Whether they made her hope that it was to meet with Mr. Grandison, I knownot; but it is certain, she herself expected to see him at the end ofevery journey; and, while she was moving, was easier, and more composed;perhaps in that hope. 

The marchioness was sometimes of the party. The air and exercise werethought proper for her health, as well as for that of her daughter. Hercousin Laurana was always with her in these excursions, and sometimesLady Sforza; and their escort was, generally, Signors Sebastiano andJuliano. 

But, within these four months past, these journeyings have beendiscontinued. The young lady accuses them of deluding her with vainhopes. She is impatient, and has made two attempts to escape from them. 

She is, for this reason, closely confined and watched. 

They put her once into a nunnery, at the motion of Lady Sforza, as for atrial only. She was not uneasy in it: but this being done unknown to thegeneral, when he was apprised of it, he, for reasons I cannot comprehend, was displeased, and had her taken out directly. 

Her head runs more than ever upon seeing her tutor, her friend, herchevalier, once more. They have certainly been to blame, if they havelet her travel with such hopes; because they have thereby kept up herardour for an interview. Could she but once more see him, she says, andlet him know the cruelty she has been treated with, she should besatisfied. He would pity her, she is sure, though nobody else will. 

The bishop has written to beg, that Sir Charles would pay them one morevisit at Bologna. 

I will refer to my patron himself the communicating to you, ladies, hisresolution on this subject. I had but a moment's sight of the letterswhich so greatly affected him. 

It is but within these few days past that this new request has been madeto him, in a direct manner. The question was before put, If such arequest should be made, would he comply? And once Camilla wrote, ashaving heard Sir Charles's presence wished for. 

Mean time the poor lady is hastening, they are afraid, into a consumptivemalady. The Count of Belvedere, however, still adores her. The disorderin her mind being imputed chiefly to religious melancholy, and some ofher particular flights not being generally known, he, who is a pious manhimself, pities her; and declares, that he would run all risks of herrecovery, would the family give her to him: and yet he knows, that shewould choose to be the wife of the Chevalier Grandison, rather than thatof any other man, were the article of religion to be got over; andgenerously applauds her for preferring her faith to her love. 

Signor Jeronymo is in a very bad way. Sir Charles often writes to him, and with an affection worthy of the merits of that dear friend. He wasto undergo another severe operation on the next day after the letterscame from Bologna; the success of which was very doubtful. 

How nobly does Sir Charles appear to support himself under such heavydistresses! For those of his friends were ever his. But his heartbleeds in secret for them. A feeling heart is a blessing that no one, who has it, would be without; and it is a moral security of innocence;since the heart that is able to partake of the distress of another, cannot wilfully give it. 

I think, my good Miss Byron, that I have now, as far as I am at presentable, obeyed all your commands that concern the unhappy Clementina, andher family. I will defer, if you please, those which relate to Oliviaand Mrs. Beaumont, ladies of very different characters from each other, having several letters to write. 

Permit me, my good ladies, and my lord, after contributing so much toafflict your worthy hearts, to refer you, for relief under all thedistresses of life, whether they affect ourselves or others, to thosemotives that can alone give true support to a rational mind. This mortalscene, however perplexing, is a very short one; and the hour is hasteningwhen all the intricacies of human affairs shall be cleared up; and allthe sorrows that have had their foundation in virtue be changed into thehighest joy: when all worthy minds shall be united in the same interests, the same happiness. 

Allow me to be, my good Miss Byron, and you, my Lord and Lady L----, andMiss Grandison, Your most faithful and obedient servant, AMBROSE BARTLETT. 

Excellent Dr. Bartlett!--How worthy of himself is this advice! But thinkyou not, my Lucy, that the doctor has in it a particular view to yourpoor Harriet? A generous one, meaning consolation and instruction toher? I will endeavour to profit by it. Let me have your prayers, mydear friends, that I may be enabled to succeed in my humble endeavours. 

It will be no wonder to us now, that Sir Charles was not solicitous tomake known a situation so embarrassing to himself, and so much involvedin clouds and uncertainty: but whatever may be the event of this affair, you, Lucy, and all my friends, will hardly ever know me by any other namethan that of

HARRIET BYRON. 

LETTER V

MISS HARRIET BYRON, TO MISS LUCY SELBYFRIDAY, MARCH 31. 

You now, my dear friends, have before you this affecting story, as far asDr. Bartlett can give it. My cousins express a good deal of concern foryour Harriet: so does Miss Grandison: so doth my Lord and Lady L----: andthe more, as I seem to carry off the matter with assumed bravery. Thistheir kind concern for me looks, however, as if they thought me ahypocrite; and I suppose, therefore, that I act my part very awkwardly. 

But, my dear, as this case is one of those few in which a woman can shewa bravery of spirit, I think an endeavour after it is laudable; and therather, as in my conduct I aim at giving a tacit example to Miss Jervois. 

The doctor has whisper'd to me, that Lady Olivia is actually on her wayto England; and that the intelligence Sir Charles received of herintention, was one of the things that disturbed him, as the news of hisbeloved Signor Jeronymo's dangerous condition was another. 

Lady Anne S----, it seems, has not yet given up her hopes of Sir Charles. The two sisters, who once favoured her above all the women they knew, have not been able to bring themselves to acquaint a lady of her rank, merit, and fortune, that there can be no hopes; and they are still moreloath to say, that their brother thinks himself under some obligation toa foreign lady. Yet you know that this was always what we were afraidof: but, who, now, will say afraid, that knows the merit of Clementina?

I wish, methinks, that this man were proud, vain, arrogant, and aboaster. How easily then might one throw off one's shackles!

Lord G---- is very diligent in his court to Miss Grandison. His fatherand aunt are to visit her this afternoon. She behaves whimsically to mylord: yet I cannot think that she greatly dislikes him. 

The Earl of D---- and the Countess Dowager are both in town. TheCountess made a visit to my cousin Reeves last Tuesday: she spoke of mevery kindly: she says that my lord has heard so much of me, that he isvery desirous of seeing me: but she was pleased to say, that, since myheart was not disengaged, she should be afraid of the consequences of hisvisit to himself. 

My grandmamma, though she was so kindly fond of me, would not suffer meto live with her; because she thought, that her contemplative tempermight influence mine, and make me grave, at a time of life, when she isalways saying, that cheerfulness is most becoming: she would thereforeturn over her girl to the best of aunts. But now I fancy, she will allowme to be more than two days in a week her attendant. My uncle Selby willbe glad to spare me. I shall not be able to bear a jest: and then, whatshall I be good for?

I have made a fine hand of coming to town, he says: and so I have: but ifmy heart is not quite so easy as it was, it is, I hope, a better, atleast not a worse heart than I brought up with me. Could I only haveadmired this man, my excursion would not have been unhappy. But thisgratitude, this entangling, with all its painful consequence--But let mesay, with my grandmamma, the man is Sir Charles Grandison! The very manby whose virtues a Clementina was attracted. Upon my word, my dear, unhappy as she is, I rank her with the first of women. 

I have not had a great deal of Sir Charles Grandison's company; but yetmore, I am afraid, than I shall ever have again. Very true--O heart! themost wayward of hearts, sigh if thou wilt!

You have seen how little he was with us, when we were absolutely in hisreach, and when he, as we thought, was in ours. But such a man cannot, ought not to be engrossed by one family. Bless me, Lucy, when he comesinto public life, (for has not his country a superior claim to him beyondevery private one?) what moment can he have at liberty? Let me enumeratesome of his present engagements that we know of. 

The Danby family must have some farther portion of his time. 

The executorship in the disposal of the 3000£. In charity, in France aswell as in England, will take up a good deal more. 

My Lord W---- may be said to be under his tutelage, as to the futurehappiness of his life. 

Miss Jervois's affairs, and the care he has for her person, engage muchof his attention. 

He is his own steward. 

He is making alterations at Grandison-hall; and has a large genteelneighbourhood there, who long to have him reside among them; and hehimself is fond of that seat. 

His estate in Ireland is in a prosperous way, from the works he set onfoot there, when he was on the spot; and he talks, as Dr. Bartlett hashinted to us, of making another visit to it. 

His sister's match with Lord G---- is one of his cares. 

He has services to perform for his friend Beauchamp, with his father andmother-in-law, for the facilitating his coming over. 

The apprehended visit of Olivia gives him disturbance. 

And the Bologna family in its various branches, and more especiallySignor Jeronymo's dangerous state of health, and Signora Clementina'sdisordered mind--O, Lucy!--What leisure has this man to be in love?--Yethow can I say so, when he is in love already? And with Clementina. --Anddon't you think, that when he goes to France on the executorship account, he will make a visit to Bologna?--Ah, my dear, to be sure he will. 

After he has left England, therefore, which I suppose he will quickly do, and when I am in Northamptonshire, what opportunities will your Harriethave to see him, except she can obtain, as a favour, the power ofobliging his Emily, in her request to be with her? Then, Lucy, he may, on his return to England, once a year or so, on his visiting his ward, see, and thank for her care and love of his Emily, his half-estrangedHarriet!--Perhaps Lady Clementina Grandison will be with him! Godrestore her! Surely I shall be capable, if she be Lady Grandison, ofrejoicing in her recovery!----

Fie upon it!--Why this involuntary tear? You would see it by the largeblot it has made, if I did not mention it. 

Excellent man!--Dr. Bartlett has just been telling me of a morning visithe received, before he went out of town, from the two sons of Mrs. Oldham. 

One of them is about seven years old; the other about five; very finechildren. He embraced them, the doctor says, with as much tenderness, asif they were children of his own mother. He enquired into theirinclinations, behaviour, diversions; and engaged equally their love andreverence. 

He told them, that, if they were good, he would love them; and said, hehad a dear friend, whom he reverenced as his father, a man with whitecurling locks, he told the children, that they might know him at firstsight, who would now-and-then, as he happened to be in town, makeenquiries after their good behaviour, and reward them, as they gave himcause. Accordingly he had desired Dr. Bartlett to give them occasionallyhis countenance; as also to let their mother know, that he should be gladof a visit from her, and her three children, on his return to town. 

The doctor had been to see her when he came to me. He found all threewith her. The two younger, impressed by the venerable description SirCharles had given of him, voluntarily, the younger, by the elder'sexample, fell down on their knees before him, and begged his blessing. 

Mr. Oldham is about eighteen years of age; a well-inclined, well-educatedyouth. He was full of acknowledgments of the favour done him in thisinvitation. 

The grateful mother could not contain herself. Blessings without number, she invoked on her benefactor, for his goodness in taking such kindnotice of her two sons, as he had done; and said, he had been, ever sincehis gracious behaviour to her in Essex, the first and last in her prayersto Heaven. But the invitation to herself, she declared, was too great anhonour for her to accept of: she should not be able to stand in hispresence. Alas! sir, said she, can the severest, truest penitence recallthe guilty past?

The doctor said, that Sir Charles Grandison ever made it a rule with him, to raise the dejected and humbled spirit. Your birth and education, madam, entitle you to a place in the first company: and where there aretwo lights in which the behaviour of any person may be set, though therehas been unhappiness, he always remembers the most favourable, andforgets the other. I would advise you, madam, (as he has invited you, )by all means to come. He speaks with pleasure of your humility and goodsense. 

The doctor told me, that Sir Charles had made inquiries after themarriage of Major O'Hara with Mrs. Jervois, and had satisfied himselfthat they were actually man and wife. Methinks I am glad for MissJervois's sake, that her mother has changed her name. They lived nothappily together since their last enterprise: for the man, who had longbeen a sufferer from poverty, was in fear of losing one half at least ofhis wife's annuity, by what passed on that occasion; and accused her ofputting him upon the misbehaviour he was guilty of; which had broughtupon him, he said, the resentments of a man admired by all the world. 

The attorney, who visited Sir Charles from these people, at theirrequest, waited on him again, in their names, with hopes that they shouldnot suffer in their annuity, and expressing their concern for havingoffended him. 

Mrs. O'Hara also requested it as a favour to see her daughter. 

Sir Charles commissioned the attorney, who is a man of repute, to tellthem, that if Mrs. O'Hara would come to St. James's-square next Wednesdayabout five o'clock, Miss Jervois should be introduced to her; and sheshould be welcome to bring with her her husband, and Captain Salmonet, that they might be convinced he bore no ill-will to either of them. 

Adieu, till by and by. Miss Grandison is come, in one of her usualhurries, to oblige me to be present at the visit to be made her thisafternoon, by the Earl of G---- and Lady Gertrude, his sister, a maidenlady advanced in years, who is exceedingly fond of her nephew, andintends to make him heir of her large fortune. 

***

FRIDAY NIGHT. 

The earl is an agreeable man: Lady Gertrude is a very agreeable woman. They saw Miss Grandison with the young lord's eyes; and were betterpleased with her, as I told her afterwards, than I should have been, orthan they would, had they known her as well as I do. She doubted not, she answered me, but I should find fault with her; and yet she was asgood as for her life she could be. 

Such an archness in every motion! Such a turn of the eye to me on myLord G----'s assiduities! Such a fear in him of her correcting glance!Such a half-timid, half-free parade when he had done any thing that heintended to be obliging, and now and then an aiming at raillery, as if hewas not very much afraid of her, and dared to speak his mind even to her!On her part, on those occasions, such an air, as if she had a learnerbefore her; and was ready to rap his knuckles, had nobody been present tomediate for him; that though I could not but love her for her veryarchness, yet in my mind, I could, for their sakes, but more for her own, have severely chidden her. 

She is a charming woman; and every thing she says and does becomes her. But I am so much afraid of what may be the case, when the lover ischanged into the husband, that I wish to myself now and then, when I seeher so lively, that she would remember that there was once such a man asCaptain Anderson. But she makes it a rule, she says, to remember nothingthat will vex her. 

Is not my memory (said she once) given me for my benefit, and shall Imake it my torment? No, Harriet, I will leave that to be done by youwise ones, and see what you will get by it. 

Why this, Charlotte, replied I, the wise ones may have a chance to get byit--They will, very probably, by remembering past mistakes, avoid manyinconveniencies into which forgetfulness will run you lively ones. 

Well, well, returned she, we are not all of us born to equal honour. Some of us are to be set up for warnings, some for examples: and thefirst are generally of greater use to the world than the other. 

Now, Charlotte, said I, do you destroy the force of your own argument. Can the person who is singled out for the warning, be near so happy, asshe that is set up for the example?

You are right as far as I know, Harriet: but I obey the present impulse, and try to find an excuse afterwards for what that puts me upon: and allthe difference is this, as to the reward, I have a joy: you a comfort:but comfort is a poor word; and I can't bear it. 

So Biddy, in 'The Tender Husband, ' would have said, Charlotte. But pooras the word is with you and her, give me comfort rather than joy, if theymust be separated. But I see not but that a woman of my Charlotte'shappy turn may have both. 

She tapped my cheek--Take that, Harriet, for making a Biddy of me. Ibelieve, if you have not joy, you have comfort, in your severity. 

My heart as well as my cheek glowed at the praises the earl and the ladyboth joined in (with a fervor that was creditable to their own hearts) ofSir Charles Grandison, while they told us what this man, and that womanof quality or consideration said of him. Who would not be good? What islife without reputation? Do we not wish to be remembered with honourafter death? And what a share of it has this excellent man in his life!--May nothing, for the honour-sake of human nature, to which he is sogreat an ornament, ever happen to tarnish it!

They made me a hundred fine compliments. I could not but be pleased atstanding well in their opinion: but, believe me, my dear, I did not enjoytheir praises of me, as I did those they gave him. Indeed, I had thepresumption, from the approbation given to what they said of him by myown heart, to imagine myself a sharer in them, though not in his merits. Oh, Lucy! ought there not to have been a relation between us, since whatI have said, from what I found in myself on hearing him praised, is ademonstration of a regard for him superior to the love of self?

Adieu, my Lucy. I know I have all your prayers. 

Adieu, my dear!

LETTER VI

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONSATURDAY, APRIL 1. 

Dr. Bartlett is one of the kindest as well as best of men. I believe heloves me as if I were his own child: but good men must be affectionatemen. He received but this morning a letter from Sir Charles, andhastened to communicate some of its contents to me, though I couldpretend to no other motive but curiosity for wishing to be acquaintedwith the proceedings of his patron. 

Sir Charles dined, as he had intended, with Sir Hargrave and his friends. He complains in his letter of a riotous day: yet I think, adds he, it hasled me into some useful reflections. It is not indeed agreeable to bethe spectator of riot; but how easy to shun being a partaker in it! Hoeasy to avoid the too freely circling glass, if a man is known to haveestablished a rule to himself, from which he will not depart; and if itbe not refused sullenly; but mirth and good humour the more studiouslykept up, by the person; who would else indeed be looked upon as a spy onunguarded folly! I heartily pitied a young man, who, I dare say, has agood heart, but from false shame durst not assert the freedom that everyEnglishman would claim a right to, in almost every other instance! Hehad once put by the glass, and excused himself on account of his health;but on being laughed at for a sober dog, as they phrased it, and asked, if his spouse had not lectured him before he came out, he gave way to thewretched raillery: nor could I interfere at such a noisy moment witheffect: they had laughed him out of his caution before I could be heard;and I left him there at nine o'clock trying with Bagenhall which shoulddrink the deepest. 

I wish, my good Dr. Bartlett, you would throw together some seriousconsiderations on this subject. You could touch it delicately, and sucha discourse would not be unuseful to some few of our neighbours even atGrandison-hall. What is it, that, in this single article, men sacrificeto false shame and false glory! Reason, health, fortune, personalelegance, the peace and order of their families; and all the comfort andhonour of their after-years. How peevish, how wretched, is the declineof a man worn out with intemperance! In a cool hour, resolutions mightbe formed, that should stand the attack of a boisterous jest. 

I obtained leave from Dr. Bartlett, to transcribe this part of theletter. I thought my uncle would be pleased with it. 

It was near ten at night, before Sir Charles got to Lord W----'s, thoughbut three miles from Sir Hargrave's. My lord rejoiced to see him; and, after first compliments, asked him, if he had thought of what he hadundertaken for him. Sir Charles told him, that he was the more desirousof seeing him in his way to the Hall, because he wanted to know if hislordship held his mind as to marriage. He assured him he did, and wouldsign and seal to whatever he should stipulate for him. 

I wished for a copy of this part of Sir Charles's letter, for the sake ofmy aunt, whose delicacy would, I thought, be charmed with it. He hasbeen so good as to say, he would transcribe it for me. I will encloseit, Lucy; and you will read it here:

I cannot, my lord, said Sir Charles, engage, that the lady will complywith the proposal I shall take the liberty to make to her mother and her. She is not more than three or four and thirty: she is handsome: she has afine understanding: she is brought up an economist: she is a woman ofgood family: she has not, however, though born to happier prospects, afortune worthy of your lordship's acceptance. Whatever that is, youwill, perhaps, choose to give it to her family. 

With all my heart and soul, nephew: but do you say, she is handsome? Doyou say, she is of family? And has she so many good qualities?--Ah, nephew! She won't have me, I doubt. --And is she not too young, SirCharles, to think of such a poor decrepit soul as I am?

All I can say to this, my lord, is, that the proposals on your part mustbe the more generous--

I will leave all those matters to you, kinsman--

This, my lord, I will take upon me to answer for, that she is a woman ofprinciple: she will not give your lordship her hand, if she thinks shecannot make you a wife worthy of your utmost kindness: and now, my lord, I will tell you who she is, that you may make what other inquiries youthink proper. 

And then I named her to him, and gave him pretty near the account of thefamily, and the circumstances and affairs of it, that I shall by and bygive you; though you are not quite a stranger to the unhappy case. 

My lord was in raptures: he knew something, he said, of the lady'sfather, and enough of the family, by hearsay, to confirm all I had saidof them; and besought me to do my utmost to bring the affair to a speedyconclusion. 

Sir Thomas Mansfield was a very good man; and much respected in hisneighbourhood. He was once possessed of a large estate; but his fatherleft him involved in a law-suit to support his title to more than onehalf of it. 

After it had been depending several years, it was at last, to the deepregret of all who knew him, by the chicanery of the lawyers of theopposite side, and the remissness of his own, carried against him; andhis expenses having been very great in supporting for years hispossession, he found himself reduced from an estate of near threethousand pounds a year, to little more than five hundred. He had sixchildren: four sons, and two daughters. His eldest son died of grief intwo months after the loss of the cause. The second, now the eldest, is amelancholy man. The third is a cornet of horse. The fourth isunprovided for; but all three are men of worthy minds, and deserve betterfortune. 

The daughters are remarkable for their piety, patience, good economy, andprudence. They are the most dutiful of children, and most affectionateof sisters. They were for three years the support of their father'sspirits, and have always been the consolation of their mother. They losttheir father about four years ago: and it is even edifying to observe, how elegantly they support the family reputation in their fine oldmansion-house by the prudent management of their little income; for themother leaves every household care to them; and they make it a rule toconclude the year with discharging every demand that can be made uponthem, and to commence the new year absolutely clear of the world, andwith some cash in hand; yet were brought up in affluence, and to theexpectation of handsome fortunes; for, besides that they could have nothought of losing their cause, they had very great and reasonableprospects from Mr. Calvert, an uncle by their mother's side; who was richin money, and had besides an estate in land of 1500£. A year. He alwaysdeclared, that, for the sake of his sister's children, he would continuea single man; and kept his word till he was upwards of seventy; when, being very infirm in health, and defective even to dotage in hisunderstanding, Bolton, his steward, who had always stood in the way ofhis inclination to have his eldest niece for his companion and manager, at last contrived to get him married to a young creature under twenty, one of the servants in the house; who brought him a child in sevenmonths; and was with child again at the old man's death, which happenedin eighteen months after his marriage: and then a will was provided, inwhich he gave all he had to his wife and her children born, and to beborn, within a year after his demise. This steward and woman now livetogether as man and wife. 

A worthy clergyman, who hoped it might be in my power to procure themredress, either in the one case or in the other, gave me the aboveparticulars; and upon inquiry, finding every thing to be as represented, I made myself acquainted with the widow lady and her sons: and it wasimpossible to see them at their own house, and not respect the daughtersfor their amiable qualities. 

I desired them, when I was last down, to put into my hands their titles, deeds, and papers; which they have done; and they have been laid beforecounsel, who give a very hopeful account of them. 

Being fully authorized by my lord, I took leave of him over-night, andset out early in the morning, directly for Mansfield-house. I arrivedthere soon after their breakfast was over, and was received by LadyMansfield, her sons, (who happened to be all at home, ) and her twodaughters, with politeness. 

After some general conversation, I took Lady Mansfield aside; and makingan apology for my freedom, asked her, If Miss Mansfield were, to herknowledge, engaged in her affections?

She answered, she was sure she was not: Ah, sir, said she, a man of yourobservation must know, that the daughters of a decayed family of somenote in the world, do not easily get husbands. Men of great fortuneslook higher: men of small must look out for wives to enlarge them; andmen of genteel businesses are afraid of young women better born thanportioned. Every body knows not that my girls can bend to theircondition; and they must be contented to live single all their lives; andso they will choose to do, rather than not marry creditably, and withsome prospect. 

I then opened my mind fully to her. She was agreeably surprised: butwho, sir, said she, would expect such a proposal from the next heir toLord W----?

I made known to her how much in earnest I was in this proposal, as wellfor my lord's sake, as for the young lady's. I will take care, madam, said I, that Miss Mansfield, if she will consent to make Lord W----happy, shall have very handsome settlements, and such an allowance forpin-money, as shall enable her to gratify every moderate, everyreasonable, wish of her heart. 

Was it possible, she asked, for such an affair to be brought about?Would my lord--There she stopt. 

I said, I would be answerable for him: and desired her to break thematter to her daughter directly. 

I left Lady Mansfield, and joined the brothers, who were with their twosisters; and soon after Miss Mansfield was sent for by her mother. 

After they had been a little while together, my Lady Mansfield sent tospeak with me. They were both silent when I came in. The mother was ata loss what to say: the daughter was in still greater confusion. 

I addressed myself to the mother. You have, I perceive, madam, acquainted Miss Mansfield with the proposal I made to you. I am fullyauthorized to make it. Propitious be your silence! There never was, proceeded I, a treaty of marriage set on foot, that had not itsconveniencies and inconveniencies. My lord is greatly afflicted with thegout: there is too great a disparity in years. These are theinconveniencies which are to be considered of for the lady. 

On the other hand, if Miss Mansfield can give into the proposal, she willbe received by my lord as a blessing; as one whose acceptance of him willlay him under an obligation to her. If this proposal could not have beenmade with dignity and honour to the lady, it had not come from me. 

The conveniencies to yourselves will more properly fall under theconsideration of yourselves and family. One thing only I will suggest, that an alliance with so rich a man as Lord W----, will make, perhaps, some people tremble, who now think themselves secure. 

But, madam, to the still silent daughter, let not a regard for me biasyou: your family may be sure of my best services, whether my proposal bereceived or rejected. 

My lord (I must deal sincerely with you) has lived a life of error. Hethinks so himself. I am earnest to have him see the difference, and tohave an opportunity to rejoice with him upon it. 

I stopt: but both being still silent, the mother looking on the daughter, the daughter glancing now and then her conscious eye on the mother, If, madam, said I, you can give your hand to Lord W----, I will take care, that settlements shall exceed your expectation. What I have observed aswell as heard of Miss Mansfield's temper and goodness, is the principalmotive of my application to her, in preference to all the women I know. 

But permit me to say, that were your affections engaged to the lowesthonest man on earth, I would not wish for your favour to my Lord W----. And, further, if, madam, you think you should have but the shadow of ahope, to induce your compliance, that my Lord's death would be moreagreeable to you than his life, then would I not, for your morality'ssake, wish you to engage. In a word, I address myself to you, MissMansfield, as to a woman of honour and conscience: if your consciencebids you doubt, reject the proposal; and this not only for my lord'ssake, but for your own. 

Consider, if, without too great a force upon your inclinations, you canbehave with that condescension and indulgence to a man who has hastenedadvanced age upon himself, which I have thought from your temper I mighthope. 

I have said a great deal, because you, ladies, were silent; and becauseexplicitness in every case becomes the proposer. Give me leave towithdraw for a few moments. 

I withdrew, accordingly, to the brothers and sister. I did not think Iought to mention to them the proposal I had made: it might perhaps haveengaged them all in its favour, as it was of such evident advantage tothe whole family; and that might have imposed a difficulty on the lady, that neither for her own sake, nor my lord's, it would have been just tolay upon her. 

Lady Mansfield came out to me, and said, I presume, sir, as we are afamily which misfortune as well as love, has closely bound together, youwill allow it to be mentioned--

To the whole family, madam!--By all means. I wanted only first to know, whether Miss Mansfield's affections were disengaged: and now you shallgive me leave to attend Miss Mansfield. I am a party for my Lord W----:Miss Mansfield is a party: your debates will be the more free in ourabsence. If I find her averse, believe me, madam, I will not endeavourto persuade her. On the contrary, if she declare against accepting theproposal, I will be her advocate, though every one else should vote inits favour. 

The brothers and sister looked upon one another: I left the mother topropose it to them; and stept into the inner parlour to Miss Mansfield. 

She was sitting with her back to the door, in a meditating posture. Shestarted at my entrance. 

I talked of indifferent subjects, in order to divert her from theimportant one, that had taken up her whole attention. 

It would have been a degree of oppression to her to have entered with herupon a subject of so much consequence to her while we were alone; andwhen her not having given a negative, was to be taken as a modestaffirmative. 

Lady Mansfield soon joined us--My dear daughter, said she, we are allunanimous. We have agreed to leave every thing to Sir Charles Grandison:and we hope you will. 

She was silent. I will only ask you, madam, said I, to her, if you haveany wish to take time to consider of the matter? Do you think you shallbe easier in your mind, if you take time?--She was silent. 

I will not at this time, my good Miss Mansfield, urge you further. Iwill make my report to Lord W----, and you shall be sure of his joyfulapprobation of the steps I have taken, before your final consent shall beasked for. But that I may not be employed in a doubtful cause, let me becommissioned to tell my lord, that you are disengaged; and that youwholly resign yourself to your mother's advice. 

She bowed her head. 

And that you, madam, to Lady Mansfield, are not averse to enter intotreaty upon this important subject. 

Averse, sir! said the mother, bowing, and gratefully smiling. 

I will write the particulars of our conversation to Lord W----, and myopinion of settlements, and advise him (if I am not forbid) to make avisit at Mansfield House. [I stopt: they were both silent. ] Ifpossible, I will attend my lord in his first visit. I hope, madam, toMiss Mansfield, you will not dislike him; I am sure he will be charmedwith you: he is far from being disagreeable in his person: his temper isnot bad. Your goodness will make him good. I dare say that he willengage your gratitude; and I defy a good mind to separate love fromgratitude. 

We returned to company. I had all their blessings pronounced at once, asfrom one mouth. The melancholy brother was enlivened: who knows but theconsequence of this alliance may illuminate his mind? I could see by thepleasure they all had, in beholding him capable of joy on the occasion, that they hoped it would. The unhappy situation of the family affairs, as it broke the heart of the eldest brother, fixed a gloom on the temperof this gentleman. 

I was prevailed upon to dine with them. In the conversation we had atand after dinner, their minds opened, and their characters rose upon me. Lord W---- will be charmed with Miss Mansfield. I am delighted to think, that my mother's brother will be happy, in the latter part of his life, with a wife of so much prudence and goodness, as I am sure this lady willmake him. On one instance of her very obliging behaviour to me, Iwhispered her sister, Pray, Miss Fanny, tell Miss Mansfield, but not tillI am gone, that she knows not the inconveniencies she is bringing uponherself: I may, perhaps, hereafter, have the boldness, to look for thesame favour from my aunt, that I meet with from Miss Mansfield. 

If my sister, returned she, should ever misbehave to her benefactor, Iwill deny my relation to her. 

You will soon have another letter from me, with an account of the successof my visit to Sir Harry Beauchamp and his lady. We must have ourBeauchamp among us, my dear friend: I should rather say, you must amongyou; for I shall not be long in England. He will supply to you, my dearDr. Bartlett, the absence (it will not, I hope, be a long one) of your

CHARLES GRANDISON. 

Sir Charles, I remember, as the doctor read, mentions getting leave forhis Beauchamp to come over, who, he says, will supply his absence to him--But, ah, Lucy! Who, let me have the boldness to ask, shall supply itto your Harriet? Time, my dear, will do nothing for me, except I couldhear something very much amiss of this man. 

I have a great suspicion, that the first part of the letter enclosed wasabout me. The doctor looked so earnestly at me, when he skipt two sidesof it; and, as I thought, with so much compassion!--To be sure, it wasabout me. 

What would I give to know as much of his mind as Dr. Bartlett knows! IfI thought he pitied the poor Harriet--I should scorn myself. I am, Iwill be, above his pity, Lucy. In this believe your

HARRIET BYRON. 

LETTER VII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONSUNDAY NIGHT, APRIL 2. 

Dr. Bartlett has received from Sir Charles an account of what passed lastFriday between him and Sir Harry and Lady Beauchamp. By the doctor'sallowance, I enclose it to you. 

In this letter, Lucy, you will see him in a new light; and as a man whomthere is no resisting, when he resolves to carry a point. But itabsolutely convinces me, of what indeed I before suspected, that he hasnot an high opinion of our sex in general: and this I will put down as ablot in his character. He treats us, in Lady Beauchamp, as perversehumoursome babies, loving power, yet not knowing how to use it. See himso delicate in his behaviour and address to Miss Mansfield, and carry inyour thoughts his gaiety and adroit management to Lady Beauchamp, as inthis letter, and you will hardly think him the same man. Could he beany thing to me, I should be more than half afraid of him: yet this maybe said in his behalf;--He but accommodates himself to the persons he hasto deal with:--He can be a man of gay wit, when he pleases to descend, asindeed his sister Charlotte has as often found, as she has given occasionfor the exercise of that talent in him:--Yet, that virtue, for its ownsake, is his choice; since, had he been a free liver, he would have beena dangerous man. 

But I will not anticipate too much: read it here, if you please. 

LETTER VIII

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, TO DR. BARTLETT[ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING. ]GRANDISON HALL, FRIDAY NIGHT, MARCH 31. 

I arrived at Sir Harry Beauchamp's about twelve this day. He and hislady expected me, from the letter which I wrote and shewed you before Ileft the town; in which, you know, I acquainted Sir Harry with his son'searnest desire to throw himself at his feet, and to pay his duty to hismother, in England; and engaged to call myself, either this day orto-morrow, for an answer. 

Sir Harry received me with great civility, and even affection. LadyBeauchamp, said he, will be with us in a moment. I am afraid you willnot meet with all the civility from her on the errand you are come upon, that a man of Sir Charles Grandison's character deserves to meet withfrom all the world. We have been unhappy together, ever since we hadyour letter. I long to see my son: your friendship for him establisheshim in my heart. But--And then he cursed the apron-string tenure, bywhich, he said, he held his peace. 

You will allow me, Sir Harry, said I, to address myself in my own way tomy lady. You give me pleasure, in letting me know, that the difficultyis not with you. You have indeed, sir, one of the most prudent young menin the world for your son. His heart is in your hand: you may form it asyou please. 

She is coming! She is coming! interrupted he. We are all in pieces: wewere in the midst of a feud, when you arrived. If she is not civil toyou--

In swam the lady; her complexion raised; displeasure in her looks to me, and indignation in her air to Sir Harry; as if they had not had theircontention out, and she was ready to renew it. 

With as obliging an air as I could assume, I paid my compliments to her. She received them with great stiffness; swelling at Sir Harry: who sidledto the door, in a moody and sullen manner, and then slipt out. 

You are Sir Charles Grandison, I suppose, sir, said she; I never saw youbefore: I have heard much talk of you. --But, pray, sir, are good menalways officious men? Cannot they perform the obligations of friendship, without discomposing families?

You see me now, madam, in an evil moment, if you are displeased with me:but I am not used to the displeasure of ladies: I do my utmost not todeserve it; and, let me tell you, madam, that I will not suffer you to bedispleased with me. 

I took her half-reluctant hand, and led her to a chair, and seated myselfin another near her. 

I see, sir, you have your arts. 

She took the fire-screen, that hung by the side of the chimney, and heldit before her face, now glancing at me, now turning away her eye, as ifresolved to be displeased. 

You come upon a hateful errand, sir: I have been unhappy ever since yourofficious letter came. 

I am sorry for it, madam. While you are warm with the remembrance of apast misunderstanding, I will not offer to reason with you: but let me, madam, see less discomposure in your looks. I want to take myimpressions of you from more placid features: I am a painter, madam: Ilove to draw lady's pictures. Will you have this pass for a firstsitting?

She knew not what to do with her anger: she was loath to part with it. 

You are impertinent, Sir Charles--Excuse me--You are impertinent. 

I do excuse you, Lady Beauchamp: and the rather, as I am sure you do notthink me so. Your freedom is a mark of your favour; and I thank you forit. 

You treat me as a child, sir--

I treat all angry people as children: I love to humour them. Indeed, Lady Beauchamp, you must not be angry with me. Can I be mistaken? Don'tI see in your aspect the woman of sense and reason?--I never blame a ladyfor her humoursomeness, so much as, in my mind, I blame her mother. 

Sir! said she. I smiled. She bit her lip, to avoid returning a smile. 

Her character, my dear friend, is not, you know, that of an ill-temperedwoman, though haughty, and a lover of power. 

I have heard much of you, Sir Charles Grandison: but I am quite mistakenin you: I expected to see a grave formal young man, his prim mouth set inplaits: But you are a joker; and a free man; a very free man, I do assureyou. 

I would be thought decently free, madam; but not impertinent. I see withpleasure a returning smile. O that ladies knew how much smiles becometheir features!--Very few causes can justify a woman's anger--Your sex, madam, was given to delight, not to torment us. 

Torment you, sir!--Pray, has Sir Harry--

Sir Harry cannot look pleased, when his lady is dis-pleased: I saw thatyou were, madam, the moment I beheld you. I hope I am not an unwelcomevisitor to Sir Harry for one hour, (I intend to stay no longer, ) that hereceived me with so disturbed a countenance, and has now withdrawnhimself, as if to avoid me. 

To tell you the truth, Sir Harry and I have had a dispute: but he alwaysspeaks of Sir Charles Grandison with pleasure. 

Is he not offended with me, madam, for the contents of the letter--

No, sir, and I suppose you hardly think he is--But I am--

Dear madam, let me beg your interest in favour of the contents of it. 

She took fire--rose up--

I besought her patience--Why should you wish to keep abroad a young man, who is a credit to his family, and who ought to be, if he is not, the joyof his father? Let him owe to your generosity, madam, that recall, whichhe solicits: it will become your character: he cannot be always keptabroad: be it your own generous work--

What, sir--Pray, sir--With an angry brow---

You must not be angry with me, madam--(I took her hand)--You can't beangry in earnest--

Sir Charles Grandison--You are--She withdrew her hand; You are, repeatedshe--and seemed ready to call names--

I am the Grandison you call me; and I honour the maternal character. Youmust permit me to honour you, madam. 

I wonder, sir--

I will not be denied. The world reports misunderstandings between youand Mr. Beauchamp. That busy world that will be meddling, knows yourpower, and his dependence. You must not let it charge you with an illuse of that power: if you do, you will have its blame, when you mighthave its praise: he will have its pity. 

What, sir, do you think your fine letters, and smooth words, will availin favour of a young fellow who has treated me with disrespect?

You are misinformed, madam. --I am willing to have a greater dependenceupon your justice, upon your good-nature, than upon any thing I can urgeeither by letter or speech. Don't let it be said, that you are not to beprevailed on--A woman not to be prevailed on to join in an act ofjustice, of kindness; for the honour of the sex, let it not be said. 

Honour of the sex, sir!--Fine talking!--Don't I know, that were I toconsent to his coming over, the first thing would be to have his annuityaugmented out of my fortune? He and his father would be in a partyagainst me. Am I not already a sufferer through him in his father'slove?--You don't know, sir, what has passed between Sir Harry and mewithin this half-hour--But don't talk to me: I won't hear of it: theyoung man hates me: I hate him; and ever will. 

She made a motion to go. 

With a respectful air, I told her, she must not leave me. My motivedeserved not, I said, that both she and Sir Harry should leave me indispleasure. 

You know but too well, resumed she, how acceptable your officiousness (Imust call it so) is to Sir Harry. 

And does Sir Harry, madam, favour his son's suit? You rejoice me: letnot Mr. Beauchamp know that he does: and do you, my dear Lady Beauchamp, take the whole merit of it to yourself. How will he revere you for yourgoodness to him! And what an obligation, if, as you say, Sir Harry isinclined to favour him, will you, by your generous first motion, lay uponSir Harry!

Obligation upon Sir Harry! Yes, Sir Charles Grandison, I have laid toomany obligations already upon him, for his gratitude. 

Lay this one more. You own you have had a misunderstanding this morning:Sir Harry is withdrawn, I suppose, with his heart full: let me, I beseechyou, make up the misunderstanding. I have been happy in this way--Thuswe will order it--We will desire him to walk in. I will beg yourinterest with him in favour of the contents of the letter I sent. Hiscompliance will follow as an act of obligingness to you. The grace ofthe action will be yours. I will be answerable for Mr. Beauchamp'sgratitude. --Dear madam, hesitate not. The young gentleman must come overone day: let the favour of its being an early one, be owing entirely toyou. 

You are a strange man, sir: I don't like you at all: you would persuademe out of my reason. 

Let us, madam, as Mr. Beauchamp and I are already the dearest of friends, begin a family understanding. Let St. James's-square, andBerkley-square, when you come to town, be a next-door neighbourhood. Give me the consideration of being the bondsman for the duty of Mr. Beauchamp to you, as well as to his father. 

She was silent: but looked vexed and irresolute. 

My sisters, madam, are amiable women. You will be pleased with them. Lord L---- is a man worthy of Sir Harry's acquaintance. We shall wantnothing, if you would think so, but Mr. Beauchamp's presence among us. 

What! I suppose you design your maiden sister for the young fellow--Butif you do, sir, you must ask me for--There she stopt. 

Indeed I do not. He is not at present disposed to marry. He never willwithout his father's approbation, and let me say--yours. My sister isaddressed to by Lord G----, and I hope will soon be married to him. 

And do you say so, Sir Charles Grandison?--Why then you are a moredisinterested man, than I thought you in this application to Sir Harry. I had no doubt but the young fellow was to be brought over to marry MissGrandison; and that he was to be made worthy of her at my expense. 

She enjoyed, as it seemed, by her manner of pronouncing the words youngfellow, that designed contempt, which was a tacit confession of theconsequence he once was of to her. 

I do assure you, madam, that I know not his heart, if he has at presentany thoughts of marriage. 

She seemed pleased at this assurance. 

I repeated my wishes, that she would take to herself the merit ofallowing Mr. Beauchamp to return to his native country: and that shewould let me see her hand in Sir Harry's, before I left them. 

And pray, sir, as to his place of residence, were he to come: do youthink he should live under the same roof with me?

You shall govern that point, madam, as you approve or disapprove of hisbehaviour to you. 

His behaviour to me, sir!--One house cannot, shall not, hold him and me. 

I think, madam, that you should direct in this article. I hope, after alittle while, so to order my affairs, as constantly to reside in England. I should think myself very happy if I could prevail upon Mr. Beauchamp tolive with me. 

But I must see him, I suppose?

Not, madam, unless you shall think it right, for the sake of the world'sopinion, that you should. 

I can't consent--

You can, madam! You do!--I cannot allow Lady Beauchamp to be one ofthose women, who having insisted upon a wrong point, can be convinced, yet not know how to recede with a grace. --Be so kind to yourself, as tolet Sir Harry know, that you think it right for Mr. Beauchamp to return;but that it must be upon your own conditions: then, madam, make thoseconditions generous ones; and how will Sir Harry adore you! How will Mr. Beauchamp revere you! How shall I esteem you!

What a strange impertinent have I before me!

I love to be called names by a lady. If undeservedly, she lays herselfby them under obligation to me, which she cannot be generous if sheresolves not to repay. Shall I endeavour to find out Sir Harry? Or willyou, madam?

Was you ever, Sir Charles Grandison, denied by any woman to whom you suedfor favour?

I think, madam, I hardly ever was: but it was because I never sued for afavour, that it was not for a lady's honour to grant. This is the casenow; and this makes me determine, that I will not be denied the grant ofmy present request. Come, come, madam! How can a woman of yourladyship's good sense (taking her hand, and leading her to the door) seemto want to be persuaded to do a thing she knows in her heart to be right!Let us find Sir Harry. 

Strange man!--Unhand me--He has used me unkindly--

Overcome him then by your generosity. But, dear Lady Beauchamp, takingboth her hands, and smiling confidently in her face, [I could, my dearDr. Bartlett, do so to Lady Beauchamp, ] will you make me believe, that awoman of your spirit (you have a charming spirit, Lady Beauchamp) did notgive Sir Harry as much reason to complain, as he gave you?--I am sure byhis disturbed countenance--

Now, Sir Charles Grandison, you are downright affronting. Unhand me!

This misunderstanding is owing to my officious letter. I should havewaited on you in person. I should from the first have put it in yourpower, to do a graceful and obliging thing. I ask your pardon. I am notused to make differences between man and wife. 

I touched first one hand, then the other, of the perverse baby with mylips--Now am I forgiven: now is my friend Beauchamp permitted to returnto his native country: now are Sir Harry and his Lady reconciled--Come, come, madam, it must be so--What foolish things are the quarrels ofmarried people!--They must come to an agreement again; and the sooner thebetter; before hard blows are struck, that will leave marks--Let us, dearmadam, find out Sir Harry--

And then, with an air of vivacity, that women, whether in courtship orout of it, dislike not, I was leading her once more to the door, and, asI intended, to Sir Harry, wherever he could be found. 

Hold, hold, sir! resisting; but with features far more placid than shehad suffered to be before visible--If I must be compelled--You are astrange man, Sir Charles Grandison--If I must be compelled to see SirHarry--But you are a strange man--And she rang the bell. 

Lady Beauchamp, Dr. Bartlett, is one of those who would be more ready toforgive an innocent freedom, than to be gratified by a profound respect;otherwise I had not treated her with so little ceremony. Such women areformidable only to those who are afraid of their anger, or who make it aserious thing. 

But when the servant appeared, she not knowing how to condescend, I said, Go to your master, sir, and tell him that your lady requests thefavour--

Requests the favour! repeated she; but in a low voice: which was no badsign. 

The servant went with a message worded with more civility than perhaps hewas used to carry to his master from his lady. 

Now, dear Lady Beauchamp, for your own sake; for Sir Harry's sake; makehappy; and be happy. Are there not, dear madam, unhappinesses enow inlife, that we must wilfully add to them?

Sir Harry came in sight. He stalked towards us with a parade like thatof a young officer wanting to look martial at the head of his company. 

Could I have seen him before he entered, my work would have been easier. But his hostile air disposed my lady to renew hostilities. 

She turned her face aside, then her person; and the cloudy indignationwith which she entered at first, again overspread her features. Oughtwrath, Dr. Bartlett, to be so ready to attend a female will?--Surely, thought I, my lady's present airs, after what has passed between her andme, can be only owing to the fear of making a precedent, and beingthought too easily persuaded. 

Sir Harry, said I, addressing myself to him, I have obtained LadyBeauchamp's pardon for the officious letter--

Pardon, Sir Charles Grandison! You are a good man, and it was kindlyintended--

He was going on: anger from his eyes flashed upon his cheek-bones, andmade them shine. My lady's eyes struck fire at Sir Harry, and shewedthat she was not afraid of him. 

Better intended, than done, interrupted I, since my lady tells me, thatit was the occasion of a misunderstanding--But, sir, all will be right:my lady assures me, that you are not disinclined to comply with thecontents; and she has the goodness--

Pray, Sir Charles, interrupted the lady--

To give me hopes that she--

Pray, Sir Charles--

Will use her interest to confirm you in your favourable sentiments--

Sir Harry cleared up at once--May I hope, madam--And offered to take herhand. 

She withdrew it with an air. O Dr. Bartlett, I must have been thought anunpolite husband, had she been my wife!

I took her hand. Excuse this freedom, Sir Harry--For Heaven's sake, madam, (whispering, ) do what I know you will do, with a grace--Shallthere be a misunderstanding, and the husband court a refused hand?--Ithen forced her half-unwilling hand into his, with an air that I intendedshould have both freedom and respect in it. 

What a man have we got here, Sir Harry? This cannot be the modest man, that you have praised to me--I thought a good man must of necessity bebashful, if not sheepish: and here your visitor is the boldest man inEngland. 

The righteous, Lady Beauchamp, said Sir Harry, with an aspect buthalf-conceding, is bold as a lion. 

And must I be compelled thus, and by such a man, to forgive you, SirHarry?--Indeed you were very unkind. 

And you, Lady Beauchamp, were very cruel. 

I did not think, sir, when I laid my fortune at your feet--

O, Lady Beauchamp! You said cutting things! Very cutting things. 

And did not you, Sir Harry, say, it should be so?--So very peremptorily!

Not, madam, till you, as peremptorily--

A little recrimination, thought I, there must be, to keep each incountenance on their past folly. 

Ah, Sir Charles!--You may rejoice that you are not married, said SirHarry. 

Dear Sir Harry, said I, we must bear with ladies. They are meek goodcreatures--They--

Meek! Sir Charles, repeated Sir Harry, with a half-angry smile, andshrugging, as if his shoulder had been hurt with his wife's meekness--say, meek!

Now, Sir Charles Grandison, said my lady, with an air of threatening--

I was desirous either of turning the lady's displeasure into a jest, orof diverting it from the first object, in order to make her play with it, till she had lost it. 

Women are of gentle natures, pursued I; and, being accustomed to behumoured, opposition sits not easy upon them. Are they not kind to us, Sir Harry, when they allow of our superiority, by expecting us to bearwith their pretty perversenesses?

O, Sir Charles Grandison! said my lady; both her hands lifted up. 

Let us be contented, proceeded I, with such their kind acknowledgments, and in pity to them, and in compliment to ourselves, bear with theirfoibles. --See, madam, I ever was an advocate for the ladies. 

Sir Charles, I have no patience with you--

What can a poor woman do, continued I, when opposed? She can only be alittle violent in words, and, when she has said as much as she chooses tosay, be perhaps a little sullen. For my part, were I so happy as to calla woman mine, and she happened to be in the wrong, I would endeavour tobe in the right, and trust to her good sense to recover her temper:arguments only beget arguments. --Those reconciliations are the mostdurable, in which the lady makes the advances. 

What doctrine is this, Sir Charles! You are not the man I took you for. --I believe, in my conscience, that you are not near so good a man, asthe world reports you. 

What, madam, because I pretend to know a little of the sex? Surely, LadyBeauchamp, a man of common penetration may see to the bottom of a woman'sheart. A cunning woman cannot hide it. A good woman will not. You arenot, madam, such mysteries, as some of us think you. Whenever you knowyour own minds, we need not be long doubtful: that is all the difficulty:and I will vindicate you, as to that--

As how, pray, sir?

Women, madam, were designed to be dependent, as well as gentle, creatures; and, of consequence when left to their own wills, they knownot what to resolve upon. 

I was hoping, Sir Charles, just now, that you would stay to dinner: butif you talk at this rate, I believe I shall be ready to wish you out ofthe house. 

Sir Harry looked as if he were half-willing to be diverted at what passedbetween his lady and me. It was better for me to say what he could notbut subscribe to by his feeling, than for him to say it. Though reproofseldom amends a determined spirit, such a one as this lady's; yet a manwho suffers by it cannot but have some joy when he hears his sentimentsspoken by a bystander. This freedom of mine seemed to save the marriedpair a good deal of recrimination. 

You remind me, madam, that I must be gone, rising and looking at mywatch. 

You must not leave us, Sir Charles, said Sir Harry. 

I beg excuse, Sir Harry--Yours, also, madam, smiling--Lady Beauchamp mustnot twice wish me out of the house. 

I will not excuse you, sir, replied she--If you have a desire to see thematter completed--She stopt--You must stay to dinner, be that as it will. 

'Be that as it will, ' madam!--You shall not recede. 

Recede! I have not yet complied--

O these women! They are so used to courtship, that they know not how todo right things without it--And, pardon me, madam, not always with it. 

Bold man--Have I consented--

Have you not, madam, given a lady's consent? That we men expect not tobe very explicit, very gracious. --It is from such non-negative consents, that we men make silence answer all we wish. 

I leave Sir Charles Grandison to manage this point, said Sir Harry. Inmy conscience, I think the common observation just: a stander-by seesmore of the game, than he that plays. 

It ever will be so, Sir Harry--But I will tell you, my lady and I have asgood as agreed the matter--

I have agreed to nothing, Sir Harry--

Hush, madam--I am doing you credit. --Lady Beauchamp speaks asidesometimes, Sir Harry: you are not to hear any thing she says, that youdon't like. 

Then I am afraid I must stop my ears for eight hours out of twelve. 

That was aside, Lady Beauchamp--You are not to hear that. 

To sit, like a fool, and hear myself abused--A pretty figure I make! SirCharles Grandison, let me tell you, that you are the first man that evertreated me like a fool. 

Excuse, madam, a little innocent raillery--I met you both, with adiscomposure on your countenances. I was the occasion of it, by theletter I sent to Sir Harry. I will not leave you discomposed. I thinkyou a woman of sense; and my request is of such a nature, that thegranting of it will confirm to me, that you are so--But you have grantedit--

I have not. 

That's charmingly said--My lady will not undervalue the compliment she isinclined to make you, Sir Harry. The moment you ask for her compliance, she will not refuse to your affection, what she makes a difficulty togrant to the entreaty of an almost stranger. 

Let it, let it be so! Lady Beauchamp, said Sir Harry: and he clasped hisarms about her as she sat--

There never was such a man as this Sir Charles Grandison in the world!--It is a contrivance between you, Sir Harry--

Dear Lady Beauchamp, resumed I, depreciate not your compliment to SirHarry. There wanted not contrivance, I dare to hope, (if there did, ithad it not, ) to induce Lady Beauchamp to do a right, a kind, an obligingthing. 

Let me, my dearest Lady Beauchamp, said Sir Harry--Let me request--

At your request, Sir Harry--But not at Sir Charles's. 

This is noble, said I. I thank you, madam, for the absent youth. Bothhusband and son will think themselves favoured by you; and the more, as Iam sure, that you will by the cheerful welcome, which you will give theyoung man, shew, that it is a sincere compliment that you have made toSir Harry. 

This man has a strange way of flattering one into acts of--of--what shallI call them?--But, Sir Harry, Mr. Beauchamp must not, I believe, livewith us--

Sir Harry hesitated. 

I was afraid of opening the wound. I have a request to make to you both, said I. It is this; that Mr. Beauchamp may be permitted to live with me;and attend you, madam, and his father, as a visitor, at your own command. My sister, I believe, will be very soon married to Lord G----. 

That is to be certainly so, interrupted the lady?

It is, madam. 

But what shall we say, my dear, resumed Sir Harry--Don't fly out again--As to the provision for my son?--Two hundred a year--What is two hundreda year----

Why then let it be three, answered she. 

I have a handsome and improvable estate, said I. I have no demands butthose of reason upon me. I would not offer a plea for his coming toEngland, (and I am sure he would not have come, if I had, ) without hisfather's consent: in which, madam, he hoped for yours. You shall not, sir, allow him either the two or three hundred a year. See him withlove, with indulgence (he will deserve both;) and think not of any thingelse for my Beauchamp. 

There is no bearing this, my dear, said Sir Harry; leaning upon hislady's shoulder, as he sat, tears in his eyes--My son is already, as Ihave heard, greatly obliged to this his true friend--Do you, do you, madam, answer for me, and for yourself. 

She was overcome: yet pride had its share with generosity. You are, saidshe, the Grandison I have heard of: but I will not be under obligationsto you--not pecuniary ones, however. No, Sir Harry! Recall your son: Iwill trust to your love: do for him what you please: let him beindependent on this insolent man; [She said this with a smile, that madeit obliging;] and if we are to be visitors, friends, neighbours, let itbe on an equal foot, and let him have nothing to reproach us with. 

I was agreeably surprised at this emanation (shall I call it?) ofgoodness: she is really not a bad woman, but a perverse one; in short, one of those whose passions, when rightly touched, are liable to suddenand surprising turns. 

Generous, charming Lady Beauchamp! said I: now are you the woman, whom Ihave so often heard praised for many good qualities: now will theportrait be a just one!

Sir Harry was in raptures; but had like to have spoiled all, by making mea compliment on the force of example. 

Be this, said I, the result--Mr. Beauchamp comes over. He will bepleased with whatever you do: at your feet, madam, he shall acknowledgeyour favour: My home shall be his, if you permit it: On me, he shallconfer obligations; from you, he shall receive them. If anyconsiderations of family prudence (there are such, and very just ones)restrain you from allowing him, at present, what your generosity wouldwish to do--

Lady Beauchamp's colour was heightened: She interrupted me--We are not, Sir Charles, so scanty in our fortune--

Well, my dear Lady Beauchamp, be all that as you will: not one retrospectof the past--

Yes, Sir Charles, but there shall: his allowance has been lessened forsome years; not from considerations of family prudence--But--Well, 'tisall at an end, proceeded she--When the young man returns, you, Sir Harry, for my sake, and for the sake of this strange unaccountable creature, shall pay him the whole arrear. 

Now, my dear Lady Beauchamp, said I, listing her hand to my lips, permitme to give you joy. All doubts and misgivings so triumphantly got over, so solid a foundation laid for family harmony--What was the moment ofyour nuptials to this? Sir Harry, I congratulate you: you may, and Ibelieve you have been, as happy as most men; but now, you will be stillhappier. 

Indeed, Sir Harry, said she, you provoked me in the morning: I should notelse--

Sir Harry owned himself to blame; and thus the lady's pride was set downsoftly. 

She desired Sir Harry to write, before the day concluded, the invitationof return, to Mr. Beauchamp; and to do her all the credit in it that shemight claim from the last part of the conversation; but not to mentionany thing of the first. 

She afterwards abated a little of this right spirit, by saying, I think, Sir Harry, you need not mention any thing of the arrears, as I may callthem--But only the future 600£. A year. One would surprise him a little, you know, and be twice thanked--

Surprises of such a nature as this, my dear Dr. Bartlett; pecuniarysurprises!--I don't love them--They are double taxes upon the gratitudeof a worthy heart. Is it not enough for a generous mind to labour undera sense of obligation?--Pride, vain-glory, must be the motive of suchnarrow-minded benefactors: a truly beneficent spirit cannot take delightin beholding the quivering lip indicating the palpitating heart; inseeing the downcast countenance, the up-lifted hands, and workingmuscles, of a fellow-creature, who, but for unfortunate accidents, wouldperhaps himself have had the will, with the power, of shewing a moregraceful benevolence!

I was so much afraid of hearing farther abatements of Lady Beauchamp'sgoodness; so willing to depart with favourable impressions of her for herown sake; and at the same time so desirous to reach the Hall that night;that I got myself excused, though with difficulty, staying to dine; andaccepting of a dish of chocolate, I parted with Sir Harry and my lady, both in equal good humour with themselves and me. 

Could you have thought, my dear friend, that I should have succeeded sovery happily, as I have done, in this affair, and at one meeting?

I think that the father and stepmother should have the full merit withour Beauchamp of a turn so unexpected. Let him not therefore ever seethis letter, that he may take his impression of the favour done him, fromthat which Sir Harry will write to him. 

My cousin Grandison, whom I hoped to find here, left the Hall on Tuesdaylast, though he knew of my intention to be down. I am sorry for it. Poor Everard! He has been a great while pretty good. I am afraid hewill get among his old acquaintance; and then we shall not hear of himfor some months perhaps. If you see him in town, try to engage him, tillI return. I should be glad of his company to Paris, if his going withme, will keep him out of harm's way, as it is called. 

***

SATURDAY, APRIL 1. 

I have had compliments sent me by many of my neighbours, who had hoped Iwas come to reside among them. They professed themselves disappointed onmy acquainting them, that I must go up early on Monday morning. I haveinvited myself to their Saturday assembly at the Bowling-green-house. 

Our reverend friend Mr. Dobson has been so good as to leave with me thesermon he is to preach to-morrow on the opening of the church: it is avery good discourse: I have only exceptions to three or four complimentshe makes to the patron in as many different places of it: I doubt not buthe will have the goodness to omit them. 

I have already looked into all that has been done in the church; and allthat is doing in the house and gardens. When both have had the directionand inspection of my dear Dr. Bartlett, need I say, that nothing couldhave been better?

***

Halden is just arrived from my lord, with a letter, which has enabled meto write to Lady Mansfield his lordship's high approbation of all ourproceedings; and that he intends some one early day in next week to payto her, and Miss Mansfield, his personal compliments. 

He has left to me the article of settlements; declaring, that his regardfor my future interest is all that he wishes may be attended to. 

I have therefore written, as from himself, that he proposes a jointure of1200£. A year, penny-rents, and 300 guineas a year for her private purse;and that his lordship desires, that Miss Mansfield will make a present toher sister of whatever she may be entitled to in her own right. Something was mentioned to me at Mansfield-house of a thousand poundsleft to her by a godmother. 

Halden being very desirous to see his future lady, I shall, at hisrequest, send the letter I have written to Lady Mansfield by him early inthe morning; with a line recommending him to the notice of that lady asLord W----'s principal steward. 

Adieu, my dear Dr. Bartlett: I have joy in the joy of all these goodpeople. If Providence graciously makes me instrumental to it, I lookupon myself but as its instrument. I hope ostentation has no share inwhat draws on me more thanks and praises than I love to hear. 

Lord W---- has a right to be made happy by his next relation, if his nextrelation can make him so. Is he not my mother's brother? Would not herenlarged soul have rejoiced on the occasion, and blessed her son for aninstance of duty to her, paid by his disinterested regard for herbrother? Who, my dear Dr. Bartlett, is so happy, yet who, in some cases, so unhappy, as your

CHARLES GRANDISON. 

LETTER IX

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBYMONDAY, APRIL 3. 

The Countess of D----, and the earl, her son, have but just left us. Thecountess sent last night, to let my cousin Reeves know of their intendedmorning visit, and they came together. As the visit was made to mycousin, I did not think myself obliged to be in waiting for them below. Iwas therefore in my closet, comforting myself with my own agreeablereflections. They were there a quarter of an hour before I was sent to. 

Their talk was of me. I am used to recite my own praises, you know; andwhat signifies making a parade of apologies for continuing the use? Idon't value myself so much as I once did on peoples favourable opinions. If I had a heart in my own keeping, I should be glad it was thought agood one; that's all. Yet though it has littlenesses in it that I knewnothing of formerly, I hope it is not a bad one. 

My Lord D----, by the whole turn of the partial conversation, was led toexpect a very extraordinary young woman. The lady declared, that shewould have her talk out, and hear all my two cousins were inclined to sayof me, before I was sent up to, as I was not below when they came. 

I was therefore to be seen only as a subject of curiosity. My lord haddeclared, it seems, that he would not be denied an introduction to me byhis mother. But there were no thoughts of making any application to agirl whose heart was acknowledged not to be her own. My lord's honourwould not allow of such an intention. Nor ought it. 

His impatience, however, hastened the message to me. The countess met mehalf-way, and embraced me. My lovely girl, how do you?--My lord, saidshe, turning to the earl, I need not say--This is Miss Byron. 

He bowed low, and made me a very high compliment; but it had sense in it, though high, and above my merits. Girls, writing of themselves on theseoccasions, must be disclaimers, you know: But, my dear uncle, what care Inow for compliments? The man, from whose mouth only they could beacceptable, is not at liberty to make me any. 

The countess engaged me in an easy general conversation; part of whichturned upon Lord and Lady L----, Miss Grandison, and Miss Jervois, andhow I had passed my time at Colnebrook, in this wintry season, when therewere so many diversions in town. But, said she, you had a man with you, who is the admiration of every man and woman, wherever he goes. 

Is there no making an acquaintance, said my lord, with Sir CharlesGrandison? What I hear said of him, every time he is mentioned incompany, is enough to fire a young man with emulation. I should be happydid I deserve to be thought of as a second or third man to Sir CharlesGrandison. 

I dare say, returned I, your lordship's acquaintance would be highlyacceptable to him. He is easy of access. Men of rank, if men of merit, must be of kindred, and recognize one another the moment they meet. ButSir Charles will soon leave England. 

The fool sighed: it was, you may believe, involuntarily. I felt myselfblush, and was the more silly for that. 

The countess took my hand--One word with you, my dear--and led me outinto the next room, and sitting down, made me sit on the same settee withher. 

O that I could call you daughter! began she at once; and turning halfround to me, put one arm about me, with her other hand taking one ofmine, and earnestly looking in my downcast face. 

I was silent. Ah, Lucy! had Lady D---- been the mother of Sir CharlesGrandison, with what pleasure could I have listened to her!

You said, my dear, that Sir Charles Grandison will soon leave England:--and then you sighed--Will you be quite open-hearted?--May I ask you aquestion in hope that you will?

I was silent: yet the word Yes was on my lips. 

You have caused it to be told me, that your affections are engaged. Thishas been a cruel blow upon us. My lord, nevertheless, has heard so muchof you, [he is really a good young man, my dear, ] that (against myadvice, I own, ) he would have me introduce him into your company. I seeby his looks, that he could admire you above all women. He never was inlove: I should be sorry if he were disappointed in his first love. Ihope his promised prudence will be his guard, if there be no prospect ofhis succeeding with you--She paused--I was still silent--

It will be a mark of your frankness of heart, my dear, if, when you takemy full meaning, you prevent me speaking more than I need. --I would notoppress you, my sweet love--Such a delicacy, and such a franknessmingled, have I never seen in young woman--But tell me, my dear, has SirCharles Grandison made his addresses to you?

It was a grievous question for me to answer--But why was it so, my Lucy, when all the hopes I ever had, proceeded from my own presumption, confirmed (that's true, of late!) by his sisters partiality in my favour;and when his unhappy Clementina has such a preferable claim?

What says Miss Byron?

She says, madam, that she reveres Lady D----, and will answer anyquestions that she puts to her, however affecting--Sir Charles Grandisonhas not. 

Once I thought, proceeded she, that I never would make a second motion, were the woman a princess, who had confessed a prior love, or evenliking: but the man is Sir Charles Grandison, whom all women must esteem;and the woman is Miss Byron, whom all men must love. Let me ask you, mydear--Have you any expectation, that the first of men (I will call himso) and the loveliest and most amiable-minded of women, can cometogether?--You sighed, you know, when you mentioned, that Sir Charles wassoon to leave England; and you own that he has not made addresses to you--Don't be uneasy, my love!--We women, in these tender cases, see intoeach other's hearts from small openings--Look upon me as your mother--What say you, love?

Your ladyship compliments me with delicacy and frankness--It is too harda question, if I have any of the first, to answer without blushes. Ayoung woman to be supposed to have an esteem for a man, who has made nodeclarations, and whose behaviour to her is such only as shews apoliteness to which he is accustomed, and only the same kind oftenderness as he shews to his sisters;--and whom sometimes he callssister--as if--Ah, madam, how can one answer?

You have answered, my dear, and with that delicacy and frankness too, which make a principal part of your character. If my son (and he shallnot be encouraged in his hopes, if he sees you not, mind as well asperson, with his mother's eyes) should not be able to check himself bythe apprehensions he has had reason for, of being but a second man in thefavour of the object of his wishes [We, my dear, have our delicacies];could you not allow him a second place in your favour, that might, intime, as he should merit, and as you should subdue your prepossessions, give him a first?--Hush--my dear, for one moment--Your honour, yourpiety, are my just dependence; and will be his. --And now speak: it is tome, my dear: speak your whole heart: let not any apprehended difficulty--I am a woman as well as you. And prepared to indulge--

Your goodness, madam, and nothing else, interrupted I, gives medifficulty. --My Lord D---- seems to me to be a man of merit, and not adisagreeable man in his person and manners. What he said of Sir CharlesGrandison, and of his emulation being fired by his example, gave himadditional merit with me. He must have a good mind. I wish himacquainted with Sir Charles, for his own sake, and for the sake of theworld, which might be benefited by his large power, so happily directed!--But as to myself, I should forfeit the character of frankness of heart, which your ladyship's goodness ascribes to me, if I did not declare, thatalthough I cannot, and, I think ought not to entertain a hope with regardto Sir Charles Grandison, since there is a lady who deserved him bysevere sufferings before I knew him; yet is my heart so wholly attached, that I cannot think it just to give the least encouragement to any otherproposal. 

You are an excellent young woman: but, my dear, if Sir Charles Grandisonis engaged--your mind will, it must change. Few women marry their firstloves. Your heart--

O, madam! it is already a wedded heart: it is wedded to his merits; hismerits will be always the object of my esteem: I can never think of anyother, as I ought to think of the man to whom I give my hand. 

Like merits, my dear, as person is not the principal motive, may producelike attachments. My Lord D---- will be, in your hands, another SirCharles Grandison. 

How good you are, my dear Lady D----! But allow me to repeat, as thestrongest expression I can use, because I mean it to carry in it all theforce that can be given it, that my heart is already a wedded heart. 

You have spoken with great force: God bless you, my dear, as I love you!The matter shall take its course. If my lord should happen to be asingle man some time hence (and, I can tell you, that your excellencieswill make our choice difficult): and if your mind, from any accident, orfrom persuasion of friends, should then have received alteration; you maystill be happy in each other. I will therefore only thank you for thatopenness of heart, which must set free the heart of my son--Had you hadthe least lurking inclination to coquetry, and could have taken pride inconquests, he might have been an undone man. --We will return to thecompany--But spare him, my dear: you must not talk much. He will loveyou, if you do, too fervently for his own peace. Try to be a littleawkward--I am afraid for him: indeed I am. O that you had never seen SirCharles Grandison!

I could not answer one word. She took my hand; and led me into thecompany. 

Had I been silent, when my lord directed his discourse to me, or answeredonly No, or Yes, the Countess would have thought me very vain; and thatI ascribed to myself the consequence she so generously gave me, withrespect to my lord. I therefore behaved and answered unaffectedly; butavoided such a promptness of speech, as would have looked like makingpretensions to knowledge and opinion, though some of my lord's questionswere apparently designed to engage me into freedom of discourse. Thecountess observed me narrowly. She whispered to me, that she did; andmade me a very high compliment on my behaviour. How much, Lucy, do Ilove and reverence her!

My lord was spoken too slightly of, by Miss Grandison, in a formerconversation. He is really a fine gentleman. Any woman who is notengaged in her affections, may think herself very happy with him. Hisconversation was easy and polite, and he said nothing that was low ortrifling. Indeed, Lucy, I think Mr. Greville and Mr. Fenwick are asgreatly inferior to Lord D----, as Lord D---- is to Sir CharlesGrandison. 

At parting, he requested of me, to be allowed to repeat his visits. 

My lord, said the countess, before I could answer, you must not expect amere stiff maiden answer from Miss Byron: she is above all vulgar forms. She and her cousins have too much politeness, and, I will venture to say, discernment, not to be glad of your acquaintance, as an acquaintance--But, for the rest, you must look to your heart. 

I shall be afraid, said he, turning to the countess, to ask your ladyshipfor an explanation. Miss Byron, I hope, sir, addressing himself to Mr. Reeves, will not refuse me her company, when I pay you my compliments. Then turning to me, I hope, madam, I shall not be punished for admiringyou. 

My Lord D----, replied I, will be entitled to every civility. I had saidmore, had he not snatched my hand a little too eagerly, and kissed it. 

And thus much for the visit of the Countess of D---- and the earl. 

***

Did I tell you in my former letter, that Emily is with me half her time?She is a most engaging young creature. Her manners are so pure! Herheart is so sincere and open!--O, Lucy! you would dearly love her. Iwish I may be asked to carry her down with me. Yet she adores herguardian: but her reverence for him will not allow of the innocentfamiliarity in thinking of him, that--I don't know what I would say. Butto love with an ardor, that would be dangerous to one's peace, one musthave more tenderness than reverence for the object: Don't you think so, Lucy?

Miss Grandison made me one of her flying visits, as she calls them, soonafter the countess and my lord went away. 

Mr. And Mrs. Reeves told her all that had been said before them by theearl and countess, as well before I went down to them, as after. Theycould not tell her what passed between that lady and me, when she took measide. I had not had time to tell them. They referred to me for that:but besides that I was not in spirits, and cared not to say much, I wasnot willing to be thought by my refusal of so great an offer, to seem tofasten myself upon her brother. 

She pitied (who but must?) Lady Clementina. She pitied her brother also:and, seeing me dejected, she clasped her arms about me, and wet my cheekwith a sisterly tear. 

Is it not very strange, Lucy, that his father should keep him so longabroad? These free-living men! of what absurdities are they not guilty!What misfortunes to others do they not occasion? One might, with theexcellent Clementina, ask, What had Mr. Grandison to do in Italy! Orwhy, if he must go abroad, did he stay so long?

Travelling! Young men travelling! I cannot, my dear, but think it avery nonsensical thing! What can they see, but the ruins of the gay, once busy world, of which they have read?

To see a parcel of giddy boys under the direction of tutors or governorshunting after--What?--Nothing: or, at best, but ruins of ruins; for theimagination, aided by reflection, must be left, after all, to make outthe greater glories, which the grave-digger Time has buried too deep fordiscovery. 

And when this grand tour is completed, the travelled youth returns: And, what is his boast? Why to be able to tell, perhaps his better taughtfriend, who has never been out of his native country, that he has seen inruins, what the other has a juster idea of from reading; and of which, itis more than probable, he can give a much better account than thetraveller. 

And are these, petulant Harriet, (methinks, Lucy, you demand, ) all thebenefits that you will suppose Sir Charles Grandison has reaped from histravelling?

Why, no. But then, in turn, I ask, Is every traveller a Sir CharlesGrandison?--And does not even he confess to Dr. Bartlett, that he wishedhe had never seen Italy? And may not the poor Clementina, and all herfamily, for her sake, wish he never had?

If an opportunity offers, I don't know, but I may ask Sir Charles, whether, in his conscience, he thinks, that, taking in everyconsideration, relating to time, expense, risques of life, health, morals, this part of the fashionable education of youth of condition issuch an indispensable one, as some seem to suppose it? If Sir CharlesGrandison give it not in favour of travelling, I believe it will beconcluded, that six parts out of eight of the little masters who are sentabroad for improvement, might as well be kept at home; if, especially, they would be orderly, and let their fathers and mothers know what to dowith them. 

O, my uncle! I am afraid of you: but spare the poor girl: sheacknowledges her petulance, her presumption. The occasion you know, andwill pity her for it! However, neither petulance nor presumption shallmake her declare as her sentiments what really are not so, in herunprejudiced hours; and she hopes to have her heart always open toconviction. 

For the present, Adieu, my Lucy. 

P. S. Dr. Bartlett tells me, that Mr. Beauchamp is at Calais, waiting thepleasure of his father; and that Sir Harry has sent express for him, asat his lady's motion. 

LETTER X

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONTUESDAY, APRIL 4. 

Sir Charles Grandison came to town last night. He was so polite as tosend to inquire after my health; and to let Mr. Reeves know, that hewould do himself the honour, as he called it, of breakfasting with himthis morning. Very ceremonious either for his own sake or for mine--Perhaps for both. 

So I am in expectation of seeing within this half-hour, the nobleClementina's future--Ah Lucy!

The compliment, you see, is to Mr. Reeves--Shall I stay above, and see ifhe will ask for me? He owes me something for the emotion he gave me inLord L----'s library. Very little of him since have I seen. 

'Honour forbids me, ' said he, then: 'Yet honour bids me. --But I cannot beungenerous, selfish. '--These words are still in my ear. --What could hemean by them?--Honour forbids me--What! to explain himself? He had beentelling me a tender tale: he had ended it. What did honour forbid him todo?--Yet honour bids me! Why then did he not follow the dictates ofhonour?

But I cannot be unjust:--To Clementina he means. Who wished him to beso?--Unjust! I hope not. It is a diminution to your glory, Sir CharlesGrandison, to have the word unjust, in this way of speaking, in yourthoughts! As if a good man had lain under a temptation to be unjust; andhad but just recollected himself. 

'I cannot be ungenerous. ' To the noble lady, I suppose? He must takecompassion on her. And did he think himself under an obligation to myforwardness to make this declaration to me, as to one who wished him tobe ungenerous to such a lady for my sake!--I cannot bear the thought ofthis. Is it not as if he had said, 'Fond Harriet, I see what you expectfrom me--But I must have compassion for, I cannot be ungenerous to, Clementina!'--But, what a poor word is compassion! Noble Clementina! Igrieve for you, though the man be indeed a generous man!--O defend me, mybetter genius, from wanting the compassion even of a Sir CharlesGrandison!

But what means he by the word selfish! He cannot be selfish!--Icomprehend not the meaning of this word--Clementina has a very highfortune--Harriet but a very middling one. He cannot be unjust, ungenerous to Clementina--Nor yet selfish--This word confounds me, from aman that says nothing at random!

Well, but breakfast-time is come, while I am busy in self-debatings. Iwill go down, that I may not seem to affect parade. I will endeavour tosee with indifference, him that we have all been admiring and studyingfor this last fortnight, in such a variety of lights. The christian: thehero: the friend:--Ah, Lucy! the lover of Clementina: the generouskinsman of Lord W----: the modest and delicate benefactor of theMansfields: the free, gay, raillier of Lady Beauchamp; and, in her, ofall our sex's foibles!

But he is come! While I am prating to you with my pen, he is come--Why, Lucy, would you detain me?--Now must the fool go down in a kind of hurry:Yet stay till she is sent for. --And that is now. 

LETTER XI

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATION

O Lucy, I have such a conversation to relate to you!--But let me lead toit. 

Sir Charles met me at the opening of the door. He was all himself. Suchan unaffected modesty and politeness; yet such an ease and freedom!

I thought, by his address, that he would have taken my hand; and bothhands were so emulatively passive--How does he manage it to be so free ina first address, yet so respectful, that a princess could not blame him!

After breakfast, my cousins being sent for out to attend Sir JohnAllestree and his Niece, Sir Charles and I were left alone: and then, with an air equally solemn and free, he addressed himself to me. 

The last time I had the honour of being alone with my good Miss Byron, Itold her a very tender tale. I was sure it would raise in such a heartas hers generous compassion for the noblest lady on the continent; and Ipresumed, as my difficulties were not owing either to rashness orindiscretion, that she would also pity the relater. 

The story did indeed affect you; yet, for my own sake, as well as yours, I referred you to Dr. Bartlett, for the particulars of some parts of it, upon which I could not expatiate. 

The doctor, madam, has let me know the particulars which he communicatedto you. I remember with pain the pain I gave to your generous heart inLord L----'s study. I am sure you must have suffered still more from thesame compassionate goodness on the communications he made you. May I, madam, however, add a few particulars to the same subject, which he thencould not give you? Now you have been let into so considerable a part ofmy story, I am desirous to acquaint you, and that rather than any womanin the world, with all that I know myself of this arduous affair. 

He ceased speaking. I was in tremors. Sir, sir--The story, I must own, is a most affecting one. How much is the unhappy lady to be pitied! Youwill do me honour in acquainting me with further particulars of it. 

Dr. Bartlett has told you, madam, that the Bishop of Nocera, secondbrother to Lady Clementina, has very lately written to me, requestingthat I will make one more visit to Bologna--I have the letter. You readItalian, madam. Shall I--Or will you--He held it to me. 

I took it. These, Lucy, are the contents. 

'The bishop acquaints him with the very melancholy way they are in. Thefather and mother declining in their healths. Signor Jeronymo worse thanwhen Sir Charles left them. His sister also declining in her health: yetearnest still to see him. 

'He says, that she is at present at Urbino; but is soon to go to Naplesto the general's. He urges him to make them one visit more; yet owns, that his family are not unanimous in the request: but that he and FatherMarescotti, and the marchioness, are extremely earnest that thisindulgence should be granted to the wishes of his dear sister. 

'He offers to meet him, at his own appointment, and conduct him toBologna; where, he tells him, his presence will rejoice every heart, andprocure an unanimous consent to the interview so much desired: and says, that if this measure, which he is sorry he has so long withstood, answersnot his hopes, he will advise the shutting up of their Clementina in anunnery, or to consign her to private hands, where she shall be treatedkindly, but as persons in her unhappy circumstances are accustomed to betreated. '

Sir Charles then shewed me a letter from Signor Jeronymo; in which heacquaints him with the dangerous way he is in. He tells him, 'That hislife is a burden to him. He wishes it was brought to its period. Hedoes not think himself in skilful hands. He complains most of the woundwhich is in his hip-joint; and which has hitherto baffled the art both ofthe Italian and French surgeons who have been consulted. He wishes, thathimself and Sir Charles had been of one country, he says, since thegreatest felicity he now has to wish for, is to yield up his life to theGiver of it, in the arms of his Grandison. '

He mentions not one word in this melancholy letter of his unhappy sister:which Sir Charles accounted for, by supposing, that she not being atBologna, they kept from him, in his deplorable way, everything relatingto her, that was likely to disturb him. He then read part of a letterwritten in English, by the admired Mrs. Beaumont; some of the contentsof which were, as you shall hear, extremely affecting. 

'Mrs. Beaumont gives him in it an account of the situation of the unhappyyoung lady; and excuses herself for not having done it before, in answerto his request, by reason of an indisposition under which she had forsome time laboured, which had hindered her from making the necessaryinquiries. 

'She mentions, that the lady had received no benefit from her journeyingsfrom place to place; and from her voyage from Leghorn to Naples, and backagain; and blames her attendants, who, to quiet her, unknown to theirprincipals, for some time, kept her in expectation of seeing herChevalier, at the end of each; for her more prudent Camilla, she says, had been hindered by illness from attending her, in several of theexcursions. 

'They had a second time, at her own request, put her into a nunnery. Sheat first was so sedate in it as gave them hopes: but the novelty goingoff, and one of the sisters, to try her, having officiously asked her togo with her into the parlour, where she said, she would be allowed toconverse through the grate with a certain English gentleman, herimpatience, on her disappointment, made her more ungovernable than theyhad ever known her; for she had been for two hours before meditating whatshe would say to him. 

'For a week together, she was vehemently intent upon being allowed tovisit England; and had engaged her cousins, Sebastiano and Juliano, topromise to escort her thither, if she could obtain leave. 

'Her mother brought her off this when nobody else could, only byentreating her, for her sake, never to think of it more. 

'The marchioness then, encouraged by this instance of her obedience, tookher under her own care: but the young lady going on from flight toslight; and the way she was in visibly affecting the health of herindulgent mother; a doctor was found, who was absolutely of opinion, thatnothing but harsh methods would avail: and in this advice Lady Sforza, and her daughter Laurana, and the general, concurring, she was told, thatshe must prepare to go to Milan. She was so earnest to be excused fromgoing thither, and to be permitted to go to Florence to Mrs. Beaumont, that they gave way to her entreaties; and the marquis himself, accompanying her to Florence, prevailed on Mrs. Beaumont to take herunder her care. 

'With her she staid three weeks: she was tolerably sedate in that spaceof time; but most so, when she was talking of England, and of theChevalier Grandison, and his sisters, with whom she wished to beacquainted. She delighted to speak English, and to talk of thetenderness and goodness of her tutor; and of what he said to her, uponsuch and such a subject. 

'At the three weeks end, the general made her a visit, in company of LadySforza; and her talk being all on this subject, they were both highlydispleased; and hinted, that she was too much indulged in it; and, unhappily, she repeating some tender passages that passed in theinterview her mother had permitted her to hold with the Chevalier, thegeneral would have it, that Mr. Grandison had designedly, from the first, sought to give himself consequence with her; and expressed himself, onthe occasion, with great violence against him. 

'He carried his displeasure to extremity, and obliged her to go away withhis aunt and him that very day, to her great regret; and as much to theregret of Mrs. Beaumont, and of the ladies her friends; who tenderlyloved the innocent visionary, as sometimes they called her. And Mrs. Beaumont is sure, that the gentle treatment she met with from them, wouldin time, though perhaps slowly, have greatly helped her. '

Mrs. Beaumont then gives an account of the harsh treatment the poor younglady met with. 

Sir Charles Grandison would have stopt reading here. He said, he couldnot read it to me, without such a change of voice, as would add to mypain, as well as to his own. 

Tears often stole down my cheeks, when I read the letters of the bishopand Signor Jeronymo, and as Sir Charles read a part of Mrs. Beaumont'sletter: and I doubted not but what was to follow would make them flow. Yet, I said, Be pleased, sir, to let me read on. I am not a stranger todistress. I can pity others, or I should not deserve pity myself. 

He pointed to the place; and withdrew to the window. 

Mrs. Beaumont says, 'That the poor mother was prevailed upon to resignher child wholly to the management of Lady Sforza, and her daughterLaurana, who took her with them to their palace in Milan. 

'The tender parent, however, besought them to spare all unnecessaryseverity; which they promised: but Laurana objected to Camilla'sattendance. She was thought too indulgent; and her servant Laura, as amore manageable person, was taken in her place. ' And O how cruelly, asyou shall hear, did they treat her!

Father Marescotti, being obliged to visit a dying relation at Milan, wasdesired by the marchioness to inform himself of the way her beloveddaughter was in, and of the methods taken with her, Lady Laurana having, in her letters, boasted of both. The good Father acquainted Mrs. Beaumont with the following particulars:

'He was surprised to find a difficulty made of his seeing the lady: but, insisting on it, he found her to be wholly spiritless, and in terror;afraid to speak, afraid to look, before her cousin Laurana; yet seemingto want to complain to him. He took notice of this to Laurana--O Father, said she, we are in the right way, I assure you: when we had her first, her chevalier, and an interview with him, were ever in her mouth; but nowshe is in such order, that she never speaks a word of him. But what, asked the compassionate Father, must she have suffered, to be brought tothis?--Don't you, Father, trouble yourself about that, replied the cruelLaurana: the doctors have given their opinion, that some severity wasnecessary. It is all for her good. 

'The poor lady expressed herself to him, with earnestness, after theveil; a subject on which, it seems, they indulged her; urging, that theonly way to secure her health of mind, if it could be restored, was toyield to her wishes. Lady Sforza said, that it was not a point that sheherself would press; but it was her opinion, that her family sinned inopposing a divine dedication; and, perhaps, their daughter's malady mightbe a judgment upon them for it. '

The father, in his letter to Mrs. Beaumont, ascribes to Lady Sforzaself-interested motives for her conduct; to Laurana, envy, on account ofLady Clementina's superior qualities: but nobody, he says, till now, doubted Laurana's love of her. '

Father Marescotti then gives a shocking instance of the barbarousLaurana's treatment of the noble sufferer--All for her good--Wretch! howmy heart rises against her! Her servant Laura, under pretence ofconfessing to her Bologna father, in tears, acquainted him with it. Itwas perpetrated but the day before. 

'When any severity was to be exercised upon the unhappy lady, Laura wasalways shut out of her apartment. Her lady had said something that shewas to be chidden for. Lady Sforza, who was not altogether so severe asher daughter, was not at home. Laura listened in tears: she heardLaurana in great wrath with Lady Clementina, and threaten her--and heryoung lady break out to this effect--What have I done to you, Laurana, tobe so used?--You are not the cousin Laurana you used to be! You know Iam not able to help myself: why do you call me crazy, and frantic, Laurana? [Vile upbraider, Lucy!] If the Almighty has laid his hand uponme, should I not be pitied?--

'It is all for your good! It is all for your good, Clementina! Youcould not always have spoken so sensibly, cousin. 

'Cruel Laurana! You loved me once! I have no mother, as you have. Mymother was a good mother: but she is gone! Or I am gone, I know notwhich!

'She threatened her then with the strait waistcoat, a punishment whichthe unhappy lady was always greatly terrified at. Laura heard her begand pray; but, Laurana coming out, she was forced to retire. 

'The poor young lady apprehending her cruel cousin's return with thethreatened waistcoat, and with the woman that used to be brought in whenthey were disposed to terrify her, went down and hid herself under astair-case, where she was soon discovered by her clothes, which she hadnot been careful to draw in after her. '

O, Lucy! how I wept! How insupportable to me, said Sir Charles, wouldhave been my reflections, had my conscience told me, that I had been thewilful cause of the noble Clementina's calamity!

After I had a little recovered, I read to myself the next paragraph, which related, 'that the cruel Laurana dragged the sweet sufferer by hergown, from her hiding-place, inveighing against her, threatening her:she, all patient, resigned, her hands crossed on her bosom, praying forercy, not by speech, but by her eyes, which, however, wept not: andcausing her to be carried up to her chamber, there punished her with thestrait waistcoat, as she had threatened. 

'Father Marescotti was greatly affected with Laura's relation, as well aswith what he had himself observed: but on his return to Bologna, dreadingto acquaint her mother, for her own sake, with the treatment herClementina met with, he only said, he did not quite approve of it, andadvised her not to oppose the young lady's being brought home, if thebishop and the general came into it: but he laid the whole matter beforethe bishop, who wrote to the general to join with him out of hand, torelease their sister from her present bondage: and the general meetingthe bishop on a set day at Milan, for that purpose, the lady wasaccordingly released. 

'A breach ensued upon it, with Lady Sforza and her daughter; who wouldhave it, that Clementina was much better for their management. They hadby terror broke her spirit, and her passiveness was reckoned upon as anindication of amendment. 

'The marchioness being much indisposed, the young lady, attended by herCamilla, was carried to Naples; where it is supposed she now is. Pooryoung lady, how has she been hurried about!--But who can think of hercousin Laurana without extreme indignation?

'Mrs. Beaumont writes, that the bishop would fain have prevailed upon hisbrother, the general, to join with him in an invitation to Sir CharlesGrandison to come over, as a last expedient, before they locked her upeither in a nunnery, or in some private house: but the general would byno means come into it. 

'He asked, What was proposed to be the end of Sir Charles's visit, wereall that was wished from it to follow, in his sister's restored mind?--Henever, he said, would give his consent that she should be the wife of anEnglish Protestant. 

'The bishop declared, that he was far from wishing her to be so: but hewas for leaving that to after-consideration. Could they but restore hissister to her reason, that reason, co-operating with her principles, might answer all their hopes. 

'He might try his expedient, the general said, with all his heart: but helooked upon the Chevalier Grandison to be a man of art; and he was surehe must have entangled his sister by methods imperceptible to her, and tothem; but yet more efficacious to his ends, than an open declaration. Had he not, he asked, found means to fascinate Olivia, and as many womenas he came into company with?--For his part, he loved not the Chevalier. He had forced him by his intrepidity to be civil to him: but forcedcivility was but a temporary one. It was his way to judge of causes bythe effects: and this he knew, that he had lost a sister, who would havebeen a jewel in the crown of a prince; and would not be answerable forconsequences, if he and Sir Charles Grandison were once more to meet, beit where it would. 

'Father Marescotti, however, joining, as the bishop writes, with him, andthe marchioness, in a desire to try this expedient; and being sure thatthe marquis and Signor Jeronymo would not be averse to it, he took aresolution to write over to him, as has been related. '

This, Lucy, is the state of the unhappy case, as briefly and as clearlyas my memory will serve to give it. And what a rememberer, if I may makea word, is the heart!--Not a circumstance escapes it. 

And now it remained for me to know of Sir Charles what answer he hadreturned. 

Was not my situation critical, my dear? Had Sir Charles asked myopinion, before he had taken his resolutions, I should have given it withmy whole heart, that he should fly to the comfort of the poor lady. Butthen he would have shewn a suspense unworthy of Clementina; and acompliment to me; which a good man, so circumstanced, ought not to make. 

My regard for him (yet what a poor affected word is regard!) was, nevertheless, as strong as ever. Generosity, or rather justice, toClementina, and that so often avowed regard to him, pulled my heart twoways. --I wanted to consider with myself for a few moments: I was desirousto clear the conduct that I was to shew on this trying occasion, as wellof precipitance as of affectation; and my cousin Reeves just then comingin for something she wanted, I took the opportunity to walk to the otherend of the room; and while a short complimental discourse passed betweenthem, 'Harriet Byron, ' said I to myself, 'be not mean. Hast thou not theexample of a Clementina before thee? Her religion and her love, combating together, have overturned the noble creature's reason. Thocanst not be called to such a trial: but canst thou not shew, that ifthou wert, thou couldst have acted greatly, if not so greatly?--SirCharles Grandison is just: he ought to prefer to thee the excellentClementina. Priority of claim, compassion for the noble sufferer, meritsso superior!--I love him for his merits: shall I not love merits, nearlyas great, in one of my own sex? The struggle will cost thee something:but go down, and try to be above thyself. Banished to thy retirement, tothy pillow, thought I, be all the girl. Often have I contended for thedignity of my sex; let me now be an example to myself, and not unworthyin my own eyes (when I come to reflect) of an union, could it have beeneffected, with a man whom a Clementina looked up to with hope. '

My cousin being withdrawn, and Sir Charles approaching me, I attempted toassume a dignity of aspect, without pride; and I spoke, while spirit washigh in me, and to keep myself up to it--My heart bleeds, sir, for thedistresses of your Clementina: [Yes, Lucy, I said your Clementina:]beyond expression I admire the greatness of her behaviour; and mostsincerely lament her distresses. What, that is in the power of man, cannot Sir Charles Grandison do? You have honoured me, sir, with thetitle of sister. In the tenderness of that relation, permit me to say, that I dread the effects of the general's petulance: I feel next for youthe pain that it must give to your humane heart to be once morepersonally present to the woes of the inimitable Clementina: but I amsure you did not hesitate a moment about leaving all your friends here inEngland, and resolving to hasten over to try, at least, what can be donefor the noble sufferer. 

Had he praised me highly for this my address to him, it would havelooked, such was the situation on both sides, as if he had thought thisdisinterested behaviour in me, an extraordinary piece of magnanimity andself-denial; and, of consequence, as if he had supposed I had views uponhim, which he wondered I could give up. His is the most delicate ofhuman minds. 

He led me to my seat, and taking his by me, still holding my passivehand--Ever since I have had the honour of Miss Byron's acquaintance, Ihave considered her as one of the most excellent of women. My heartdemands alliance with hers, and hopes to be allowed its claim; thoughsuch are the delicacies of situation, that I scarcely dare to trustmyself to speak upon the subject. From the first, I called Miss Byron mysister; but she is more to me than the dearest sister; and there is amore tender friendship that I aspire to hold with her, whatever may bethe accidents, on either side, to bar a further wish: and this I musthope, that she will not deny me, so long as it shall be consistent withher other attachments. 

He paused. I made an effort to speak: but speech was denied me. Myface, as I felt, glowed like the fire before me. 

My heart, resumed he, is ever on my lips. It is tortured when I cannotspeak all that is in it. Professions I am not accustomed to make. As Iam not conscious of being unworthy of your friendship, I will suppose it;and further talk to you of my affairs and engagements, as that tenderfriendship may warrant. 

Sir, you do me honour, was all I could say. 

I had a letter from the faithful Camilla. I hold not a correspondencewith her: but the treatment that her young lady met with, of which shehad got some general intimations, and some words that the bishop said toher, which expressed his wishes, that I would make them one more visit atBologna, urged her to write, begging of me, for Heaven's sake, to goover. But unless one of the family had written to me, and by consent ofothers of it, what hope had I of a welcome, after I had been as oftenrefused, as I had requested while I was in Italy, to be admitted to thepresence of the lady, who was so desirous of one interview more?--Especially, as Mrs. Beaumont gave me no encouragement to go, but thecontrary, from what she observed of the inclinations of the family. 

Mrs. Beaumont is still of opinion, as in the conclusion of the letterbefore you, that I should not go, unless the general and the marquis jointheir requests to those of the marchioness, the bishop, and FatherMarescotti. But I had no sooner perused the bishop's letter, than Iwrote, that I would most cheerfully comply with his wishes: but that Ishould be glad that I might not be under any obligation to go furtherthan Bologna; where I might have the happiness to attend my Jeronymo, aswell as his sister. 

I had a little twitch at my heart, Lucy. I was sorry for it: but myjudgment was entirely with him. 

And now, madam, you will wonder, that you see not any preparations for mydeparture. All is prepared: I only wait for the company of onegentleman, who is settling his affairs with all expedition to go with me. He is an able, a skilful surgeon, who has had great practice abroad, andin the armies: and having acquired an easy fortune, is come to settle inhis native country. My Jeronymo expresses himself dissatisfied with hissurgeons. If Mr. LOWTHER can be of service to him, how happy shall Ithink myself! And if my presence can be a means to restore the nobleClementina--But how dare I hope it?--And yet I am persuaded, that in hercase, and with such a temper of mind, (unused to hardship and oppositionas she had been, ) the only way to recover her, would have been bycomplying with her in every thing that her heart or head was earnestlyset upon: for what controul was necessary to a young lady, who never, even in the height of her malady, uttered a wish or thought that wascontrary to her duty either to God, or her parents; nor yet to the honourof her name; and, allow me, madam, to say, to the pride of her sex?

I am under an obligation to go to Paris, proceeded he, from the will ofmy late friend Mr. Danby. I shall stop there for a day or two only, inorder to put things in a way for my last hand, on my return from Italy. 

When I am in Italy, I shall, perhaps, be enabled to adjust two or threeaccounts that stand out, in relation to the affairs of my ward. 

This day, at dinner, I shall see Mrs. Oldham, and her sons; and in theafternoon, at tea, Mrs. O'Hara, and her husband, and Captain Salmonet. 

To-morrow, I hope for the honour of your company, madam, and Mr. And Mrs. Reeves's at dinner; and be so good as to engage them for the rest of theday. You must not deny me; because I shall want your influence uponCharlotte, to make her fix Lord G----'s happy day, that I may be able tosee their hands united before I set out; as my return will beuncertain--

Ah, Lucy! more twitches just then!--

Thursday next is the day fixed for the triple marriage of the Danby's. Ihave promised to give Miss Danby to Mr. Galliard, and to dine with themand their friends at Enfield. 

If I can see my Lord W---- and Charlotte happy before I go, I shall behighly gratified. 

It is another of my wishes, to see my friend Beauchamp in England first, and to leave him in possession of his father's love, and of hismother-in-law's civility. Dr. Bartlett and he will be happy in eachother. I shall correspond with the doctor. He greatly admires you, madam, and will communicate to you all you shall think worthy of yournotice, relating to the proceedings of a man who will always thinkhimself honoured by your inquiries after him. 

Ah, Lucy! Sir Charles Grandison then sighed. He seemed to look morethan he spoke. I will not promise for my heart, if he treats me withmore than the tenderness of friendship: if he gives me room to think thathe wishes--But what can he wish? He ought to be, he must be, Clementina's: and I will endeavour to make myself happy, if I canmaintain the second place in his friendship: and when he offers me this, shall I, Lucy, be so little as to be displeased with the man, who cannotbe to me all that I had once hoped he could be?--No!--He shall be thesame glorious creature in my eyes; I will admire his goodness of heart, and greatness of mind; and I will think him entitled to my utmostgratitude for the protection he gave me from a man of violence, and forthe kindness he has already shewn me. Is not friendship the basis of mylove? And does he not tender me that?

Nevertheless, at the time, do what I could, I found a tear ready tostart. My heart was very untoward, Lucy; and I was guilty of a littlefemale turn. When I found the twinkling of my eyes would not dispersethe too ready drop, and felt it stealing down my cheek, I wiped it off--The poor Emily, said I--She will be grieved at parting with you. Emilyloves her guardian. 

And I love my ward. I once had a thought, madam, of begging yourprotection of Emily: but as I have two sisters, I think she will be happyunder their wings, and in the protection of my good Lord L---- and therather, as I have no doubt of overcoming her unhappy mother, by makingher husband's interest a guaranty for her tolerable, if not good, behaviour to her child. 

I was glad to carry my thoughts out of myself, as I may say, and from myown concerns. We all, sir, said I, look upon Mr. Beauchamp as afuture--

Husband for Emily, madam, interrupted he?--It must not be at my motion. My friend shall be entitled to share with me my whole estate; but I willnever seek to lead the choice of my WARD. Let Emily, some time hence, find out the husband she can be happy with; Beauchamp the wife he canlove: Emily, if I can help it, shall not be the wife of any man'sconvenience. Beauchamp is nice, and I will be as nice for my WARD. Andthe more so, as I hope she herself wants not delicacy. There is acruelty in persuasion, where the heart rejects the person proposed, whether the urger be parent or guardian. 

Lord bless me, thought I, what a man is this!

Do you expect Mr. Beauchamp soon, sir?

Every day, madam. 

And is it possible, sir, that you can bring all these things to bearbefore you leave England, and go so soon?

I fear nothing but Charlotte's whimsies. Have you, madam, any reason toapprehend that she is averse to an alliance with Lord G----? His fatherand aunt are very importunate for an early celebration. 

None at all, sir. 

Then I shall depend much upon yours, and Lord and Lady L----'s influenceover her. 

He besought my excuse for detaining my attention so long. Upon hismotion to go, my two cousins came in. He took even a solemn leave of me, and a very respectful one of them. 

I had kept up my spirits to their utmost stretch: I besought my cousinsto excuse me for a few minutes. His departure from me was too solemn;and I hurried up to my closet; and after a few involuntary sobs, a floodof tears relieved me. I besought, on my knees, peace to the disturbedmind of the excellent Clementina, calmness and resignation to my own, andsafety to Sir Charles. And then, drying my eyes at the glass, I wentdown stairs to my cousins; and on their inquiries (with looks of deepconcern) after the occasion of my red eyes, I said, All is over! All isover! my dear cousins. I cannot blame him: he is all that is noble andgood--I can say no more just now. The particulars you shall have from mypen. 

I went up stairs to write: and except for one half hour at dinner, andanother at tea, I stopt not till I had done. 

And here, quite tired, uneasy, vexed with myself, yet hardly knowing why, I lay down my pen. --Take what I have written, cousin Reeves: if you canread it, do: and then dispatch it to my Lucy. 

But, on second thoughts, I will shew it to the two ladies, and LordL----, before it is sent away. They will be curious to know what passedin a conversation, where the critical circumstances both of us were in, required a delicacy which I am not sure was so well observed on my side, as on his. 

I shall, I know, have their pity: but let nobody who pities not the nobleClementina shew any for

HARRIET BYRON. 

LETTER XII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONTUESDAY NIGHT, APRIL 4. 

Miss Grandison came to me just as we had supped. She longed, she said, to see me; but was prevented coming before, and desired to know what hadpassed between her brother and me this morning. I gave her the letter, which I had but a little while before concluded. He had owned, she said, that he had breakfasted with me, and spoke of me to her, and Lord andLady L---- with an ardor, that gave them pleasure. She put my letterinto her bosom. I may, I hope, Harriet--If you please, madam, said I. 

If you please, madam, repeated she; and with that do-lo-rous accent too, my Harriet!--My sister and I have been in tears this morning: Lord L----had much ado to forbear. Sir Charles will soon leave us. 

It can't be helped, Charlotte. Did you dine to-day in St. James's-square?

No, indeed!--My brother had a certain tribe with him; and the woman also. It is very difficult, I believe, Harriet, for good people to forbeardoing sometimes more than goodness requires of them. 

Could you not, Charlotte, have sat at table with them for one hour ortwo?

My brother did not ask me. He did not expect it. He gives every bodytheir choice, you know. He told me last night who were to dine with himto-day, and supposed I would choose to dine with Lady L----, or with you, he was so free as to say. 

He did us an honour, which you thought too great a one. But if he hadasked you, Charlotte--

Then I should have bridled. Indeed, I asked him, if he did not over-doit?

What was his answer?

Perhaps he might--But I, said he, may never see Mrs. Oldham again. Iwant to inform myself of her future intentions, with a view (over-do itagain, Charlotte!) to make her easy and happy for life. Her children arein the world. I want to give her a credit that will make her rememberedby them, as they grow up, with duty. I hope I am superior to forms. Sheis conscious. I can pity her. She is a gentlewoman; and entitled to aplace at any man's table to whom she never was a servant. She never wasmine. 

And what, Miss Grandison, could you say in answer? asked I. 

What!--Why I put up my lip. 

Ungracious girl!

I can't help it. That may become a man to do in such cases as this, thatwould not a woman. 

Sir Charles wants not delicacy, my dear, said I. 

He must suppose, that I should have sat swelling, and been reserved: hewas right not to ask me--So be quiet, Harriet--And yet, perhaps, youwould be as tame to a husband's mistress, as you seem favourable to afather's. 

She then put on one of her arch looks--

The cases differ, Charlotte--But do you know what passed between thegenerous man, and the mortified woman and her children; mortified as theymust be by his goodness?

Yes, yes; I had curiosity enough to ask Dr. Bartlett about it all. 

Pray, Charlotte--

Dr. Bartlett is favourable to every body, sinners as well as saints--Hebegan with praising the modesty of her dress, the humility of herbehaviour: he said, that she trembled and looked down, till she wasreassured by Sir Charles. Such creatures have all their tricks, Harriet. 

You, Charlotte, are not favourable to sinners, and hardly to saints. Butpray proceed. 

Why, he re-assured the woman, as I told you. And then proceeded to askmany questions of the elder Oldham--I pitied that young fellow--to have amother in his eye, whose very tenderness to the young ones kept alive thesense of her guilt. And yet what would she have been, had she not beendoubly tender to the innocents, who were born to shame from her fault?The young man acknowledged a military genius; and Sir Charles told him, that he would, on his return from a journey he was going to take, consider whether he could not do him service in the way he chose. Hegave him, it seems, a brief lecture on what he should aim to be, and whatavoid, to qualify himself for a man of true honour; and spoke veryhandsomely of such gentlemen of the army as are real gentlemen. Theyoung fellow, continued Miss Grandison, may look upon himself to be asgood as provided for, since my brother never gives the most distant hopethat is not followed by absolute certainty, the first opportunity, notthat offers, but which he can make. 

He took great notice of the little boys. He dilated their hearts, andset them a prating; and was pleased with their prate. The doctor, whohad never seen him before in the company of children, applauded him forhis vivacity, and condescending talk to them. The tenderest father inthe world, he said, could not have behaved more tenderly, or shewedhimself more delighted with his own children, than he did with thosebrats of Mrs. Oldham. 

Ah, Charlotte! And is it out of doubt, that you are the daughter of LadyGrandison, and sister of Sir Charles Grandison?--Well, but I believe youare--Some children take after the father, some after the mother!--Forgiveme, my dear. 

But I won't. I have a great mind to quarrel with you, Harriet. 

Pray don't; because I could neither help, nor can be sorry for, what Isaid. But pray proceed. 

Why, he made presents to the children. I don't know what they were; norcould the doctor tell me. I suppose very handsome ones; for he has thespirit of a prince. He inquired very particularly after the circumstancesof the mother; and was more kind to her than many people would be totheir own mothers. --He can account for this, I suppose--though I cannot. The woman, it is true, is of a good family, and so forth: but thatenhances her crime. Natural children abound in the present age. Keepingis fashionable. Good men should not countenance such wretches. --But mybrother and you are charitable creatures!--With all my heart, child. Virtue, however, has at least as much to say on one side of the questionas on the other. 

When the poor children are in the world, as your brother said--When thepoor women are penitents, true penitents--Your brother's treatment ofMrs. Giffard was different. He is in both instances an imitator of theAlmighty; a humbler of the impenitent, and an encourager of those whorepent. 

Well, well; he is undoubtedly a good sort of young man; and, Harriet, youare a good sort of young woman. Where much is given, much is required:but I have not given me such a large quantity of charity, as either ofyou may boast: and how can I help it?--But, however, the woman went awayblessing and praising him; and that, the doctor says, more with her eyesthan she was able to do in words. The elder youth departed in rapturousreverence: the children hung about his knees, on theirs. The doctor willhave it, that it was without bidding--Perhaps so--He raised them by turnsto his arms, and kissed them. --Why, Harriet! your eyes glisten, child. They would have run over, I suppose, had you been there! Is it, thatyour heart is weakened with your present situation? I hope not. No, youare a good creature! And I see that the mention of a behaviour greatlygenerous, however slightly made, will have its force upon a heart sotruly benevolent as yours. You must be Lady Grandison, my dear: indeedyou must. --Well, but I must be gone. You dine with us to-morrow, mybrother says?

He did ask me; and desired me to engage my cousins. But he repeated notthe invitation when he went away. 

He depends upon your coming: and so do we. He is to talk to me beforeyou, it seems: I can't tell about what: but by his hurrying on everything, it is plain he is preparing to leave us. 

He is, madam. 

'He is, madam!' And with that dejected air, and mendicant voice--Speakup like a woman!--The sooner he sets out, if he must go, the sooner hewill return. Come, come, Harriet, you shall be Lady Grandison still--Ah!and that sigh too! These love-sick folks have a language that nobodyelse can talk to them in: and then she affectedly sighed--Is that right, Harriet?--She sighed again--No, it is not: I never knew what a sigh was, but when my father vexed my sister; and that was more for fear he shouldone day be as cruel to me, than for her sake. We can be very generousfor others, Harriet, when we apprehend that one day we may want the samepity ourselves. Our best passions, my dear, have their mixtures ofself-love. 

You have drawn a picture of human nature, Charlotte, that I don't like. 

It is a likeness for all that. 

She arose, snatched my hand, hurried to the door--Be with us, Harriet, and cousin Reeves, and cousin Reeves, as soon as you can to-morrow. Iwant to talk to you, my dear (to me) of an hundred thousand things beforedinner. Remember we dine early. 

Away she fluttered--Happy Miss Grandison! What charming spirits she has!

LETTER XIII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONWEDNESDAY, APRIL 5. 

Miss Jervois came to me this morning by six; impatient, as she said, tocommunicate good news to me. I was in my closet writing. I could notsleep. 

I have seen my mother, said she; and we are good friends. Was she everunkind to me, madam?

Dear creature! said I, and clasped her to my bosom, you are a sweet girl!Oblige me with the particulars. 

Let me, Lucy, give you, as near as I can recollect, the amiable youngcreature's words and actions on this occasion. 

Sit down, my love, said I. --What! When I am talking of a reconciledmother! And to dear Miss Byron!--No, indeed. 

She often held out one open hand, while the forefinger of the other, infull action, patted it; as at other times both were spread, with prettywonder and delight: and thus she began:--

Why, you must know, it was about six o'clock yesterday afternoon, that mymother and her husband, and Captain Salmonet, came. I was told of theirvisit but two hours before: and when the coach stopped, and I at thewindow saw them alight, I thought I should have fainted away. I wouldhave given half I was worth in the world to have been an hundred milesoff. 

Dr. Bartlett was there, and received them. My guardian was unexpectedlyengaged in answering a letter sent him by Lord W----, for which agentleman waited: but they had not been there a quarter of an hour, whenhe entered, and made apologies to them in his usual gracious manner. Never, the doctor says, did any body look so respectful as the major andthe captain; and they would have made apologies to my guardian, for theirlast behaviour to him; but he would not let them. And my mother, thedoctor says, from the very first, behaved prettily. 

The moment she asked for me, my guardian himself condescended to come upto me, and took my hand--Was not that very good of him?--My dear, saidhe, as he led me down stairs, (and spoke so kindly, ) don't tremble so: amI not with you?--Your mother is very calm and composed: you must ask herblessing. I shall ease your tender heart of every pang. I shall hint toyou what to do, and how to behave to the gentlemen, as occasions arise. 

He had no sooner said the words, but the drawing-room door gave way tohis hand, and I was in the room with him. 

Down on my knees dropt I--as I now do to you: but I could not speak. Thus I did. [And she kissed my hand, and bowed her face upon it. ] Andmy mother raised me--You must raise me, madam--Yes, just so--And shekissed me too, and wept on my neck; and called me pretty names; andencouraged me, and said she loved me, as she loved her own soul--And Iwas encouraged. 

My guardian then, with the air and manner of a gracious prince, took myhand, and presented it first to the major, then to the captain; and theyeach kissed my hand, and spoke in my praise, I can't tell how many finethings. 

Major, said my guardian, when he presented me to him, you must excuse thedear child's weakness of spirits: she wishes you all happiness on yournuptials: she has let me know, that she is very desirous to do youservice for her mother's sake. 

The major swore by his soul, I was an angel!--Captain Salmonet said, that, by his salvation, I was a charming young lady!

My mother wept--O, Sir! said she to my guardian: and dropping down in achair by the window, not a word more could she speak. 

I ran to her, and clasped my arms about her. She wept the more: I wipedher eyes with her own handkerchief: I told her, it went to my heart tosee her cry: I begged she would spare me this grief. 

She clasped her arms then about me, and kissed my cheek, and my forehead. O, thought I, it is very good of you, my dear mother. 

Then came my guardian to us, and he kindly took my mother's hand, andconducted her to the fire-side; and he led me, and placed me by her, atthe tea-table; and he made the major and the captain sit down by him: somuch graciousness in his countenance. O, madam! I shall be an idolater, I am afraid. And he said, Emily, my dear, you will make tea for us. Mysister dined abroad, madam, to my mother. --Yes, sir, I will, said I: andI was as lively as a bird. 

But before the servants came in, Let me tell you, madam, said he, whatMiss Jervois has proposed to me. --They were in silent expectation. 

She has desired that you, major, will accept from her, for your mutualuse, of an additional 100£. A year; which I shall order to be paid youquarterly, during Mrs. O'Hara's life, not doubting but you will make heras happy as it is in your power to make her. 

My mother bowed, coloured with gratitude, and looked obliged. 

And she begs of you, madam, turning to my mother, that you will accept, as from the Major, another 100£. A year, for pin-money, which he, orwhich you, madam, will draw upon me for; also quarterly, if you choosenot to trouble him to do it: for this 100£. A year must be appropriatedto your sole and separate use, madam; and not be subject to yourcontroul, Major O'Hara. 

Good God! sir! said the Major!--What a wretch was I, the last time I washere!--There is no bearing of this!

He got up, and went to the window: and the captain said, Blessed Jesu!and something else, which I could not mind; for I was weeping like ababy. 

What, sir! said my mother, 400£. A year! Do you mean so?--I do, madam--And, sir, to be so generously paid me my 100£. Of it, as if I received itnot from my child, but from my husband!--Good God! How you overpower me, sir! What shame, what remorse, do you strike into my heart!

And my poor mother's tears ran down as fast as mine. 

O madam, said the dear girl to me, clasping her arms about me, how yourtender heart is touched!--It is well you were not there!

Dr. Bartlett came in to tea. My guardian would not permit Antony, whooffered himself, to wait. Antony had been my own papa's servant, when mymother was not so good. 

Nothing but blessings, nothing but looks and words of admiration andgratitude, passed all the tea-time. How their hearts rejoiced, Iwarrant!--Is it not a charming thing, madam, to make people's heartsglad?--To be sure it is! How many hearts has my guardian rejoiced! Youmust bid him be cross to me, or I shall not know what to do with myself!--But then, if he was, I should only get by myself, and cry, and be angrywith myself, and think he could not be to blame. 

O my love, my Emily! said I, take care of your gratitude: that drew inyour true friend. 

Well, but how can it be helped, madam? Can a right heart be ungrateful?--Dr. Bartlett says, There is no such thing as true happiness in thislife: and is it not better to be unhappy from good men and women, thanfrom bad?--Dear madam, why you have often made me unhappy, because ofyour goodness to me; and because I knew, that I neither could deserve norreturn it. 

The dear prater went on--My guardian called me aside, when tea was over. My Emily, said he, [I do love he should call me his Emily!--But all theworld is his Emily, I think, ] Let me see what you will do with these twonotes; giving me two bank-notes of 25£. Each. --Present pin-money and cashmay be wanted. We will suppose that your mother has been married aquarter of a year. Her pin-money and the additional annuity may commencefrom the 25th of December last. Let me, Emily, when they go away, seethe graceful manner in which you will dispose of the notes: and from Mr. O'Hara's behaviour upon it, we shall observe whether he is a man withwhom your mother, if it be not her own fault, (now you have made it theirinterest to be kind to each other, ) may live well: but the motion be allyour own. 

How good this was! I could have kissed the hand that gave me the notes, if I thought it would not have looked too free. 

I understand you, sir, said I. 

And when they went away, pouring out their very hearts in grateful joy, Iaddressed myself to Mr. O'Hara. Sir, said I, it is proper that thepayment of the additional annuity should have a commencement. Let it befrom Christmas last. Accept of the first payment from my own hands--AndI gave him one 25£. Note: and looking at my mother, with a look of duty, for fear be should mistake, and discredit himself in the eyes of thedeepest discerner in the world, gave him the other. 

He looked upon first one, then upon the other note with surprise--Andthen bowing to the ground to me, and to my guardian, he stept to mymother, and presented them both to her. You, madam, said he, must speak:I cannot as I ought: God send me with a whole heart out of this house!He hurried out, and when he was in the hall, wiped his eyes, and sobbedlike a child, as one of the servants told my Anne. 

My mother looked upon one note as her husband had done, and upon theother; and, lifting up her eyes, embraced me--And would have saidsomething to my guardian, but he prevented her, by saying--Emily will bealways dutiful to you, madam, and respectful to Mr. O'Hara: may you behappy together!

And he led her out--Was ever such a condescension! He led her out to herhusband, who, being a little recovered, was just about to give some moneyto the servant, who was retiring from the offer. --Nobody, said myguardian, graciously smiling, pays my servants but myself, Mr. O'Hara. They are good people, and merit my favour. 

And he went to the very door with my mother. I could not. I ran back, crying for joy, into the drawing-room, when they went out of it. I couldnot bear myself. How could I, you know, madam?--Captain Salmonet all thetime wiped his eyes, shrugged his shoulders, lifted up his hands, andcried out upon Jesu; and once or twice he crossed himself: but all thetime my guardian looked and acted, as if those actions and praises werenothing to be proud of. 

When he came in to me, I arose, and threw myself at his feet; but couldonly say, Thank you, sir, for your goodness to my mother. He raised me. He sat down by me: See, child, (said he, and he took my hand: my heartwas sensible of the favour, and throbbed with joy, ) what it is in thepower of people of fortune to do. You have a great one. Now your motheris married, I have hopes of her. They will at least keep up appearancesto each other, and to the world. They neither of them want sense. Youhave done an act of duty and benevolence both in one. The man who wouldgrudge them this additional 200£. A year out of your fortune, to makeyour parent happy, shall not have my Emily--Shall he?

Your Emily, your happy Emily, sir, has not, cannot have a heart that isworth notice, if it be not implicitly guided by you. --This I said, madam:and it is true. 

And did he not, said I, clasp his Emily to his generous bosom, when yousaid so?

No, madam; that would have been too great an honour: but he called me, good child! and said, you shall never be put to pay me an implicitregard: your own reason (and he called me child again) shall always bethe judge of my conduct to you, and direct your observances of my advice. Something like this he said; but in a better manner than I can say it. 

He calls me oftener child, madam, than any thing else when we are alonetogether; and is not quite so free, I think, at such times, in hisbehaviour to me, (yet is vastly gracious, I don't know how, ) as when weare in company--Why is that? I am sure, I equally respect him, at onetime as at another--Do you think, madam, there is any thing in theobservation? Is there any reason for it?--I do love to study him, and tofind out the meaning of his very looks as well as words. Sir CharlesGrandison's heart is the book of heaven--May I not study it?

Study it, my love! while you have an opportunity. But he will soon leaveus: he will soon leave England. 

So I fear: and I will love and pity the poor Clementina, whose heart isso much wounded and oppressed. But my guardian shall be nobody's butyours. I have prayed night and day, the first thing and the last thing, ever since I have heard of Lady Clementina, that you, and nobody but you, may be Lady Grandison: and I will continue my prayers. --But will youforgive me: I always conclude them with praying, that you will bothconsent to let the poor Emily live with you. 

Sweet girl! The poor Emily, said she?--I embraced her, and we mingledtears, both our hearts full, each for the other; and each perhaps forherself. 

She hurried away. I resumed my pen. --Run off what had passed, almost asswift as thought. I quit it to prepare to attend my cousins to St. James's-square. 

LETTER XIV

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONWEDNESDAY NIGHT, APRIL 5. 

Miss Grandison, as I told you, took with her my letter of yesterday. Assoon as my cousin Reeves and I entered Sir Charles's house, the twosisters conducted us into the drawing-room adjoining to thedining-parlour, and congratulated me on the high compliment their brotherhad made me, though in preference to themselves, and hiscommunicativeness and tender behaviour to me. Lord L---- joined us, andhe, having read the letter, congratulated me also--On what, Lucy?--Why onthe possibility, that if the unhappy Clementina should die; or if sheshould be buried for life in a nunnery; or if she should be otherwisedisposed of; why then, that your Harriet may have room given her to hopefor a civil husband in Sir Charles Grandison, and half a heart: Is notthis the sum of these humbling congratulations?

Sir Charles, when we came, was in his study with Mr. Lowther, the surgeonwhom he had engaged to go abroad with him: but he just came out towelcome us; and then returned. --He had also with him two physicians, eminent for their knowledge in disorders of the head, to whom he hadbefore communicated the case of the unhappy Clementina; and who broughtto him in writing their opinions of the manner in which she ought to betreated, according to the various symptoms of her disorder. 

When he joined us, he told us this; and said very high things at the sametime in praise of the English surgeons; and particularly of thisgentleman: and added, that as nervous disorders were more frequent inEngland, than in any country in the world, he was willing to hope, thatthe English physicians were more skilful than those of any other countryin the management of persons afflicted with such maladies: and as he wasnow invited over, he was determined to furnish himself with all the meanshe could think of, that were likely to be useful in restoring and healingfriends so dear to him. 

Miss Grandison told him, that we were all in some apprehensions, on hisgoing to ltaly, of that fierce and wrong-headed man the general. MissByron, said she, has told us, that Mrs. Beaumont advises not your goingover. 

The young Marquis della Porretta, said he, is hasty; but he is a gallantman, and loves his sister. His grief on the unhappy situation they arein demands allowance. It is natural in a heavy calamity to look out ofourselves for the occasion. I have not any apprehensions from him, orfrom any body else. The call upon me is a proper one. The issue must beleft where it ought to be left. If my visit will give comfort to any oneof the family, I shall be rewarded: If to more than one, happy--And, whatever be the event, shall be easier in myself, than I could be, were Inot to comply with the request of the bishop, were he only to have madeit. 

Lord L---- asked Sir Charles, whether he had fixed the day of his settingout?

I have, said he, within this half hour. Mr. Lowther has told me, that heshall be ready by the beginning of next week; and on Saturday sennight Ihope to be at Dover, on my way. 

We looked upon one another. Miss Grandison told me afterwards, that mycolour went and came several times, and that she was afraid for me. Myheart was indeed a little affected. I believe I must not think of takingleave of him when he sets out. Ah, Lucy! Nine days hence!--Yet, in lessthan nine days after that, I shall be embraced by the tenderest relationsthat ever creature had to boast of. 

Sir Charles taking his sister aside, I want, said he, to say a few wordsto you, Charlotte. They were about half an hour together; and thenreturning, I am encouraged to think, said he, that Charlotte will giveher hand to Lord G----. She is a woman of honour, and her heart musttherefore go with it. --I have a request to make to her, before all youour common friends--The Earl of G----, Lady Gertrude, Lord G----, alljoin in one suit: it is, that I may be allowed to give my sister to LordG---- before I leave England. 

I have told you, brother, that it is impossible, if you go away in nineor ten days time. 

Sir Charles particularly requested my influence. I could have no doubt, I said, but Miss Grandison would oblige her brother. 

She vehemently opposed so early a day. 

In a most affectionate manner, yet with an air of seriousness, he urgedhis request. He said, that it was very proper for him to make somedispositions of his affairs before he went abroad. He should leaveEngland with much more pleasure, if he saw his Charlotte the wife of aman so worthy as Lord G----: Lord G----, said he, adores you: Youintended to be his: Resolve to oblige your brother, who, though he cannotbe happy himself, wishes to see you so. 

O, Sir Charles! said she, you ruin me by your solemnity, and by yourgoodness. 

The subject is not a light one. I am greatly in earnest, Charlotte. Ihave many affairs on my hands. My heart is in this company; yet myengagements will permit me but few opportunities to enjoy it between thisand Tuesday next. If you deny me now, I must acquiesce: If you have morethan punctilio to plead, say you have; and I will not urge you farther. 

And so this is the last time of asking, sir? A little archly--

Not the last time of my Lord G----'s, but of mine--But I will not allowyou now to answer me lightly. If you can name a day before Tuesday, youwill greatly oblige me. I will leave you to consider of it. And hewithdrew. 

Every one then urged her to oblige her brother. Lady L---- veryparticularly. She told her, that he was entitled to her compliance; andthat he had spoken to her on this subject in a still more earnest manner. She should hardly be able to excuse her, she said, if the serious hint hehad given about settling his affairs before he went abroad, had notweight with her. You know, Charlotte, continued she, that he can have nomotive but your good; and you have told me, that you intend to have LordG----; and that you esteem his father, his aunt, and every one of hisfamily, whom you have seen; and they are all highly pleased with you. Settlements are already drawn: that my brother told you last night. Nothing is wanting but your day. 

I wish he was in half the hurry to be married himself. 

So he would be, I dare say, if marriage were as much in his power, as itis in yours. 

What a deuse, to be married to a man in a week's time, with whom I havequarrelled every day for a fortnight past!--Pride and petulance must godown by degrees, sister. A month, at least, is necessary, to bring myfeatures to such a placidness with him, as to allow him to smile in myface. 

Your brother has hinted, Charlotte, said I, that he loves you for yourvivacity; and should still more, if you consulted time and occasion. 

He has withdrawn, sister, said Lord L----, with a resolution, if you denyhim, to urge you no further. 

I hate his peremptoriness. 

Has he not told you, Charlotte, said I, and that in a manner so serious, as to affect every body, that there is a kind of necessity for it?

I don't love this Clementina, Harriet: all this is owing to her. 

Just then a rapping at the door signified visitors; and Emily ran in--Lord G----, the Earl, and Lady Gertrude, believe me!

Miss Grandison changed colour. A contrivance of my brother's!--Ah, Lord!Now shall I be beset!--I will be sullen, that I may not be saucy. 

Sullen you can't be, Charlotte, said Lady L----: but saucy you can. Remember, however, my brother's earnestness, and spare Lord G---- beforehis father and aunt, or you will give me, and every body, pain. 

How can I? Our last quarrel is not made up: but advise him not to beeither impertinent or secure. 

Immediately enter'd Sir Charles, introducing the Earl and Lady Gertrude. After the first compliments, Pray, Sir Charles, said Miss Grandison, drawing him aside, towards me, and whispering, tell me truly: Did you notknow of this visit?

I invited them, Charlotte, whispered he. I meant not however to surpriseyou. If you comply, you will give me great pleasure: if you do not, Iwill not be dis-pleased with my sister. 

What can I do? Either be less good to me, sir, or less hurrying. 

You have sacrificed enough to female punctilio, Charlotte. Lord G----has been a zealous courtier. You have no doubt of the ardor of hispassion, nor of your own power. Leave the day to me. Let it be Tuesdaynext. 

Good heaven! I can't bear you, after such a--and she gasped, as if forbreath; and he turning from her to me, she went to Lady Gertrude, who, rising, took her hand, and withdrew with her into the next room. 

They staid out till they were told dinner was served: and when theyreturned, I thought I never saw Miss Grandison look so lovely. Acharming flush had overspread her cheeks: a sweet consciousness in hereyes gave a female grace to her whole aspect, and softened, as I may say, the natural majesty of her fine features. 

Lord G---- looked delighted, as if his heart were filled with happypresages. The earl seemed no less pleased. 

Miss Grandison was unusually thoughtful all dinnertime: she gave me greatjoy to see her so, in the hope, that when the lover becomes the husband, the over-lively mistress will be sunk in the obliging wife. --And yet, now and then, as the joy in my lord's heart overflowed at his lips, Icould observe that archness rising to her eye, that makes one both loveand fear her. 

After dinner, the Earl of G---- and Lady Gertrude desired a conferencewith Sir Charles and Lady L----. They were not long absent, when SirCharles came in, and carried out Miss Grandison to them. Lord G----'scomplexion varied often. 

Sir Charles left them together, and joined us. We were standing; and hesingled me out--I hope, madam, said he, that Charlotte may be prevailedupon for Tuesday next: but I will not urge it further. 

I thought that he was framing himself to say something particular to me, when Lady L---- came in, and desired him and me to step to her sister, who had retired from the Earl and Lady Gertrude, by consent. 

Ah, my Harriet! said she, pity me, my dear!--Debasement is the child ofpride!--Then turning to Sir Charles, I acknowledge myself overcome, saidshe, by your earnestness, as you are so soon to leave us; and by theimportunities of the Earl of G----, Lady Gertrude, and my sister--Unprepared in mind, in clothes, I am resolved to oblige the best ofbrothers. Do you, sir, dispose of me as you think fit. 

My sister consents, sir, said Lady L----, for next Tuesday. 

Cheerfully, I hope. If Charlotte balances whether, if she took moretime, she should have Lord G---- at all, let her take it. Lord L----, inmy absence, will be to her all that I wish to be, when she shalldetermine. 

I balance not, sir: but I thought to have had a month's time, at least, to look about me, and having treated Lord G---- too flippantly, to givehim by degrees some fairer prospects of happiness with me, than hithertohe has had. 

Sir Charles embraced her. She was all his sister, he said. Let thealteration now begin. Lord G---- would rejoice in it, and consider allthat had passed, as trials only of his love for her. The obliging wifewould banish from his remembrance the petulant mistress. And now, allowme, my dear sister, to present you to the Earl and Lady Gertrude. 

He led her in to them. Lady L---- took my hand, and led me in also. --Charlotte, my lord, yields to yours and Lady Gertrude's importunities. Next Tuesday will give the two families a near and tender relation toeach other. 

The earl saluted her in a very affectionate manner: so did Lady Gertrude;who afterwards ran out for her nephew: and, leading him in, presented himto Miss Grandison. 

She had just time to whisper me, as he approached her; Ah, Harriet! nowcomes the worst part of the show. --He kneeled on one knee, kissed herhand: but was too much overjoyed to speak; for Lady Gertrude had toldhim, as she led him in, that Tuesday was to be his happy day. 

It is impossible, Lucy, but Sir Charles Grandison must carry every pointhe sets his heart upon. When he shall appear before the family ofPorretta in Italy, who will be able to withstand him?--Is not hisconsequence doubled, more than doubled, since he was with them? The manwhose absence they requested, they now invite to come among them. Theyhave tried every experiment to restore their Clementina: he has a nobleestate now in possession. The fame of his goodness is gone out todistant countries. O my dear! All opposition must fly before him. Andif it be the will of Heaven to restore Clementina, all her friends mustconcur in giving her to him upon the terms he has proposed; and fromwhich, having himself proposed them, Sir Charles Grandison cannot recede. 

His heart, it is evident, is at Bologna. Well, and so it ought to be. And yet I could not forbear being sensibly touched by the followingwords, which I overheard him say to Lord L----, in answer to something mylord said to him:

'I am impatient to be abroad. Had I not waited for Mr. Lowther, the lastletters I received from Italy should have been answered in person. '

But as honour, compassion, love, friendship (still nobler than love!)have demands upon him, let him obey the call. He has set me high in hisesteem. Let me be worthy of his friendship. Pangs I shall occasionallyfeel; but who that values one person above the rest of the world, doesnot?

Sir Charles, as we sat at tea, mentioned his cousin Grandison to LordL----: It is strange, my lord, said he, that we hear nothing of ourcousin Everard, since he was seen at White's. But whenever he emerges, Charlotte, if I am absent, receive him without reproaches: yet I shouldbe glad that he could have rejoiced with us. Must I leave England, andnot see him?

It has been, it seems, the way of this unhappy man, to shut himself upwith some woman in private lodgings, for fear his cousin should find himout; and in two or three months, when he has been tired of his wickedcompanion, emerge, as Sir Charles called it, to notice, and then seek forhis cousin's favour and company, and live for as many more months in astate of contrition. And Sir Charles, in his great charity, believes, that till some new temptation arises, he is in earnest in his penitence;and hopes, that in time he will see his errors. 

Oh, Lucy! What a poor creeping, mean wretch is a libertine, when onelooks down upon him, and up to such a glorious creature as Sir CharlesGrandison!

Sir Charles was led to talk of his engagement for to-morrow, on thetriple marriage in the Danby family. We all gave him joy of the happysuccess that had rewarded his beneficent spirit, with regard to thatfamily. He gave us the characters of the three couples greatly to theiradvantage, and praised the families on both sides, which were to be soclosely united on the morrow; not forgetting to mention kindly honest Mr. Sylvester the attorney. 

He told us, that he should set out on Friday early for Windsor, in orderto attend Lord W---- in his first visit to Mansfield-house. You, LadyL----, will have the trouble given you, said he, of procuring to benew-set the jewels of the late Lady W---- for a present to the futurebride. My lord shewed them to me (among a great number of other valuabletrinkets of his late wife's) in my last return from the Hall. They arerich, and will do credit to his quality. You, my Lord L----, you, mysisters, will be charmed with your new aunt, and her whole family. Ihave joy on the happiness in prospect that will gild the latter days ofmy mother's brother; and at the same time be a means of freeing fromoppression an ancient and worthy family. 

Tears were in every eye. There now, thought I, sits this princely man, rejoicing every one who sees him, and hears him speak: But where will hebe nine days hence? And whose this day twelvemonth?

He talked with particular pleasure of the expected arrival of hisBeauchamp. He pleased himself, that he should leave behind him a man whowould delight every body, and supply to his friends his absence. --What acharacter did he give, and Dr. Bartlett confirm, of that amiable friendof his!

How did the Earl and Lady Gertrude dwell upon all he said! They pridedthemselves on the relation they were likely so soon to stand in to sovaluable a man. 

In your last letter, you tell me, Lucy, that Mr. Greville has theconfidence to throw out menaces against this excellent man--Sorry wretch!--How my heart rises against him!--He--But no more of such an earth-borncreature. 

LETTER XV

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONTHURSDAY MORNING, APRIL 6. 

Miss Grandison, accompanied by Miss Jervois, has just left us. LadyL---- has undertaken, she says, to set all hands at work, to have thingsin tolerable order, early as the day is, for Tuesday next. MissGrandison (would you believe it?) owns, that she wants spirits to orderanything. What must be the solemnity of that circumstance, when near, that shall make Charlotte Grandison want spirits?

She withdrew with me to my apartment. She threw herself into a chair:'Tis a folly to deny it, Harriet, but I am very low, and very silly: Idon't like next Tuesday by any means. 

Is your objection only to the day, my dear?

I do not like the man. 

Is there any man whom you like better?

I can't say that neither. But this brother of mine makes me thinkcontemptibly of all other men. I would compound for a man but half sogood--Tender, kind, humane, polite, and even cheerful in affliction!--O, Harriet! where is there such another man?

No where. --But you don't by marriage lose, on the contrary, you furtherengage and secure, the affection of this brother. You will have agood-natured worthy man for your husband; a man who loves you, and youwill have your brother besides. 

Do you think I can be happy with Lord G----?

I am sure you may, if it be not your own fault. 

That's the thing: I may, perhaps, bear with the man; but I cannot honourhim. 

Then don't vow to honour him. Don't meet him at the altar. 

Yet I must. But I believe I think too much: and consideration is nofriend to wedlock. --Would to Heaven that the same hour that my hand andLord G----'s were joined, yours and my brother's were also united!

Ah, Miss Grandison! If you love me, try to wean me; and not to encouragehopes of what never, never can be. 

Dear creature! You will be greater than Clementina, and that is greaterthan the greatest, if you can conquer a passion, that overturned herreason. 

Do not, my Charlotte, make comparisons in which the conscience of yourHarriet tells her she must be a sufferer. There is no occasion for me todespise myself, in order to hold myself inferior to Clementina. 

Well, you are a noble creature!--But, the approaching Tuesday--I cannotbear to think of it. 

Dear Charlotte!

And dear Harriet too!--But the officiousness, the assiduities, of thistrifling man are disgustful to me. 

You don't hate him?--

Hate him--True--I don't hate him--But I have been so much accustomed totreat him like a fool, that I can't help thinking him one. He should nothave been so tame to such a spirit as mine. He should have been angrywhen I played upon him. I have got a knack of it, and shall never leaveit off, that's certain. 

Then I hope he will be angry with you. I hope that he will resent yourill-treatment of him. 

Too late, too late to begin, Harriet. I won't take it of him now. Hehas never let me see that his face can become two sorts of features. Thepoor man can look sorrowful; that I know full well: but I shall alwayslaugh when he attempts to look angry. 

You know better, Charlotte. You may give him so much cause for anger, that you may make it habitual to him, and then would be glad to see himpleased. Men have an hundred ways that women have not to divertthemselves abroad, when they cannot be happy at home. This I have heardobserved by--

By your grandmother, Harriet? Good old lady! In her reign it might beso; but you will find, that women now have as many ways to divertthemselves abroad as the men. Have you not observed this yourself in oneof your letters to Lucy? Ah! my dear! we can every hour of thetwenty-four be up with our monarchs, if they are undutiful. 

But Charlotte Grandison will not, cannot--

Why that's true, my dear--But I shall not then be a Grandison. Yet theman will have some security from my brother's goodness. He is not onlygood himself, but he makes every one related to him, either from fear orshame, good likewise. But I think that when one week or fortnight ishappily over, and my spirits are got up again from the depression intowhich this abominable hurry puts them, I could fall upon some inventionsthat would make every-one laugh, except the person who might take it intohis head that he may be a sufferer by them: and who can laugh, and beangry, in the same moment?

You should not marry, Charlotte, till this wicked vein of humour andraillery is stopt. 

I hope it will hold me till fifty. 

Don't say so, Charlotte--Say rather that you hope it will hold you solong only as it may be thought innocent or inoffensive, by the man whomit will be your duty to oblige, and so long as it will bring no discreditto yourself. 

Your servant, Goody Gravity!--But what must be, must. The man is boundto see it. It will be all his own seeking. He will sin with his eyesopen. I think he has seen enough of me to take warning. All that I amconcerned about is for the next week or fortnight. He will be king allthat time--Yet, perhaps not quite all neither. And I shall be hissovereign ever after, or I am mistaken. What a deuse, shall a womanmarry a man of talents not superior to her own, and forget to rewardherself for her condescension?--But, high-ho!--There's a sigh, Harriet. Were I at home, I would either sing you a song, or play you a tune, inorder to raise my own heart. 

She besought me then, with great earnestness, to give her my company tillthe day arrived, and on the day. You see, said she, that my brother hasengagements till Monday. Dear creature! support, comfort me--Don't yousee my heart beat through my stays?--If you love me, come to me to-morrowto breakfast; and leave me not for the whole time--Are you not my sister, and the friend of my heart? I will give you a month for it, upon demand. Come, let us go down; I will ask the consent of both your cousins. 

She did: and they, with their usual goodness to me, cheerfully complied. 

Sir Charles set out this morning to attend the triple marriages; dressedcharmingly, his sister says. I have made Miss Grandison promise to giveme an account of such particulars, as, by the help of Saunders, and SirCharles's own relation, she can pick up. All we single girls, I believe, are pretty attentive to such subjects as these; as what one day may beour own concern. 

LETTER XVI

MISS GRANDISON, TO MISS BYRONTHURSDAY NIGHT. 

Unreasonable, wicked, cruel Byron! To expect a poor creature, so nearher execution, to write an account of other people's behaviour in thesame tremendous circumstances! The matrimonial noose has hung over myhead for some time past; and now it is actually fitted to my devotedneck. --Almost choaked, my dear!--This moment done hearing read, thefirsts, seconds, thirds, fourths, to near a dozen of them--Lord bemerciful to us!--And the villanous lawyer rearing up to me his spectaclednose, as if to see how I bore it! Lord G---- insulting me, as I thought, by his odious leers: Lady Gertrude simpering; little Emily ready to blessherself--How will the dear Harriet bear these abominable recitatives?--But I am now up stairs from them all, in order to recover my breath, andobey my Byron. 

Well, but what am I now to say about the Danbys? Richard has made hisreport; Sir Charles has told us some things: yet I will only give youheads: make out the rest. 

In the first place, my brother went to Mrs. Harrington's (Miss Danby'saunt:) she did every thing but worship him. She had with her two youngladies, relations of her late husband, dainty damsels of the city, whohad procured themselves to be invited, that they might see the man, whomthey called, a wonder of generosity and goodness. Richard heard one ofthem say to the other, Ah, sister, this is a king of a man! What pitythere are not many such! But, Harriet, if there were a hundred of them, we would not let one of them go into the city for a wife; would we, mydear?

Sir Charles praised Miss Danby. She was full of gratitude; and ofhumility, I suppose. Meek, modest, and humble, are qualities of whichmen are mighty fond in women. But matrimony, and a sense of obligation, are equally great humblers even of spirits prouder than that of MissDanby; as your poor Charlotte can testify. 

The young gentlemen, with the rest, were to meet Sir Charles, the bride, and these ladies, at St. Helen's, I think the church is called. 

As if wedlock were an honour, the Danby girl, in respect to Sir Charles, was to be first yoked. He gave her away to the son Galliard. The fatherGalliard gave his daughter to Edward Danby: but first Mr. Hervey gave hisniece to the elder. 

One of the brides, I forget which, fainted away; another half-fainted--Saved by timely salts: the third, poor soul, wept heartily--as I supposeI shall do on Tuesday. 

Never surely was there such a matrimony promoter, as my brother. Godgive me soon my revenge upon him in the same way!

The procession afterwards was triumphant--Six coaches, four silly soulsin each; and to Mr. Poussin's, at Enfield, they all drove. There theyfound another large company. 

My brother was all cheerfulness; and both men and women seemed to contendfor his notice: but they were much disappointed at finding he meant toleave them early in the evening. 

One married lady, the wife of Sir ---- somebody, (I am very bad atremembering the names of city knights, ) was resolved, she said, sincethey could not have Sir Charles to open the ball, to have one dancebefore dinner with the handsomest man in England. The music wasaccordingly called in; and he made no scruple to oblige the company on aday so happy. 

Do you know, Harriet, that Sir Charles is supposed to be one of thefinest dancers in England? Remember, my dear, that on Tuesday--[Lordhelp me! I shall be then stupid, and remember nothing]--you take him outyourself: and then you will judge for yourself of his excellence in thisscience--May we not call dancing a science? If we judge by the few whoperform gracefully in it, I am sure we may; and a difficult one too. 

O!--And remember, Harriet, that you get somebody to call upon him tosing--You shall play--I believe I shall forget, in that only agreeablemoment of the day, (for you have a sweet finger, my love, ) that I am theprincipal fool in the play of the evening. 

O, Harriet, --how can I, in the circumstances I am in, write any moreabout these soft souls, and silly? Come to me by day-dawn, and leave menot till--I don't know when. Come, and take my part, my dear: I shallhate this man: he does nothing but hop, skip, and dance about me, grinand make mouths; and every body upholds him in it. 

Must this (I hope not!) be the last time that I write myself to you

CHARLOTTE GRANDISON?

LETTER XVII

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBYST. JAMES'S-SQUARE, FRIDAY MORNING, APRIL 7. 

Sir Charles Grandison set out early this morning for Lord W----'s, in hisway to Lady Mansfield's. I am here with this whimsical Charlotte. 

Lady L----, Miss Jervois, myself, and every female of the family, or whodo business for both sisters out of it, are busy in some way or other, preparatory to the approaching Tuesday. 

Miss Grandison is the only idle person. I tell her, she is affectedlyso. 

The earl has presented her, in his son's name, with some very richtrinkets. Very valuable jewels are also bespoke by Lord G----, who takesLady L----'s advice in every thing; as one well read in the fashions. New equipages are bespoke; and gay ones they will be. 

Miss Grandison confounded me this morning by an instance of hergenerosity. She was extremely urgent with me to accept, as her thirdsister, of her share of her mother's jewels. You may believe, that Iabsolutely refused such a present. I was angry with her; and told her, she had but one way of making it up with me; and that was, that since shewould be so completely set out from her lord, she would unite the twohalves, by presenting hers to Lady L----, who had refused jewels from herlord on her marriage; and who then would make an appearance, occasionally, as brilliant as her own. 

She was pleased with the hint; and has actually given them (unknown toany body but me) to her jeweller; who is to dispose them in such figures, as shall answer those she herself is to have, which Lady L---- has not. And by this contrivance, which will make them in a manner useless toherself, she thinks she shall oblige her sister, however reluctant, toaccept of them. 

Lady Gertrude is also preparing some fine presents for her niece elect:but neither the delighted approbation of the family she is entering into, nor the satisfaction expressed by her own friends, give the perverseCharlotte any visible joy, nor procure for Lord G---- the distinctionwhich she ought to think of beginning to pay him. But, for his part, never was man so happy. He would, however, perhaps, fare better fromher, if he could be more moderate in the outward expression of his joy;which she has taken it into her head to call an insult upon her. 

She does not, however, give the scope she did before the day was fixed, to her playful captiousness. She is not quite so arch as she was. Thoughtfulness, and a seeming carelessness of what we are employed in, appear in her countenance. She saunters about, and affects to bediverted by her harpsichord only. What a whimsical thing is CharlotteGrandison! But still she keeps Lord G---- at distance. I told her anhour ago, that she knows not how to condescend to him with that gracewhich is so natural to her in her whole behaviour to every body else. 

I have been talking to Dr. Bartlett, about Sir Charles's journey toItaly. Nobody knows, he says, what a bleeding heart is covered by acountenance so benign and cheerful. Sir Charles Grandison, said he, hasa prudence beyond that of most young men; but he has great sensibilities. 

I take it for granted, sir, that he will for the future be more anItalian than Englishman. 

Impossible, madam! A prudent youth, by travelling, reaps this advantage--From what he sees of other countries, he learns to prefer his own. Animprudent one the contrary. Sir Charles's country is endeared to him byhis long absence from it. Italy in particular is called the garden ofEurope; but it is rather to be valued for what it was, and might be, thanwhat it is. I need not tell a lady who has read and conversed as youhave done, to what that incomparable difference is owing. Sir CharlesGrandison is greatly sensible of it. He loves his country, with thejudgment of a wise man; and wants not the partiality of a patriot. 

But, doctor, he has offered, you know, to reside--There I stopt. 

True, madam--And he will not recede from his offers, if they are claimed. But this uncertainty it is that disturbs him. 

I pity my patron, proceeded he. I have often told you he is not happy. What has indiscretion to expect, when discretion has so much to suffer?His only consolation is, that he has nothing to reproach himself with. Inevitable evils he bears as a man should. He makes no ostentation ofhis piety: but, madam, Sir Charles Grandison is a CHRISTIAN. 

You need not, sir, say more to me to exalt him: and, let me add, that Ihave no small pleasure in knowing that Clementina is a lady of strictpiety, though a Roman Catholic. 

And let me assure you, madam, that Sir Charles's regard for Miss Byron(his more than regard for her, why should I not say? since every bodysees it) is founded upon her piety, and upon the amiable qualities of hermind. Beauty, madam, is an accidental and transient good. No man betterknows how to distinguish between admiration and love, than my patron. His virtue is virtue upon full proof, and against sensibilities, that itis heroic to overcome. Lady Olivia knows this: and here I mustacknowledge myself a debtor to you for three articles out of your ten. Ihope soon to discharge the obligation. 

Your own time, doctor: but I must say, that whenever you give me LadyOlivia's story, I shall be pained, if I find that a Clementina isconsidered by a beauty of an unhappier turn, as her rival in the love ofSir Charles Grandison. 

Lady Olivia, madam, admires him for his virtue; but she cannot, as he hasmade it his study to do, divide admiration from love. What offers hasshe not refused?--But she declares, that she had rather be the friend ofSir Charles Grandison, than the wife of the greatest prince on earth. 

This struck me: Have not I said something like it? But surely withinnocence of heart. But here the doctor suggests, that Olivia has puthis virtue to the proof: Yet I hope not. 

The FRIEND, Dr. Bartlett!--I hope that no woman who is not quite given upto dishonour, will pollute the sacred word, by affixing ideas to it, thatcannot be connected with it. A friend is one of the highest charactersthat one human creature can shine in to another. There may be love, thatthough it has no view but to honour, yet even in wedlock, ripens not intofriendship. How poor are all such attachments! How much beneath theexalted notion I have of that noblest, that most delicate union of souls!You wonder at me, Dr. Bartlett. Let me repeat to you, sir, (I have it byheart, ) Sir Charles Grandison's tender of friendship to the poor HarrietByron, which has given me such exalted ideas of this disinterestedpassion; but you must not take notice that I have. I repeated thosewords, beginning, 'My heart demands alliance with hers'--and ending withthese--'So long as it shall be consistent with her other attachments. '*

* See page 110 of this Volume. 

The doctor was silent for a few moments. At last, What a delicacy isthere in the mind of this excellent man! Yet how consistent with theexactest truth! The friendship he offers you, madam, is indeedfriendship. What you have repeated can want no explanation: yet it isexpressive of his uncertain situation. It is--

He stopt of a sudden. 

Pray, doctor, proceed: I love to hear you talk. 

My good young lady!--I may say too much. Sir Charles in these nicepoints must be left to himself. It is impossible for any body to expresshis thoughts as he can express them. But let me say, that he justly, aswell as greatly, admires Miss Byron. 

My heart rose against myself. Bold Harriet, thought I, how darest thouthus urge a good man to say more than he has a mind to say of the secretsof a friend, which are committed to his keeping? Content thyself withthe hopes, that the worthiest man in the world would wish to call theehis, were it not for an invincible obstacle. And noble, thrice nobleClementina, be thine the preference even in the heart of Harriet Byron, because justice gives it to thee; for, Harriet, hast thou not been taughtto prefer right and justice to every other consideration? And, wouldstthou abhor the thought of a common theft, yet steal an heart that is theproperty, and that by the dearest purchase, of another?

LETTER XVIII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONFRIDAY EVENING. 

We have had a great debate about the place in which the nuptial ceremonyis to be performed. 

Charlotte, the perverse Charlotte, insisted upon not going to church. 

Lord G---- dared not to give his opinion; though his father and LadyGertrude, as well as every other person, were against her. 

Lord L---- said, that if fine ladies thought so slightly of the office, as that it might be performed anywhere, it would be no wonder, if finegentlemen thought still more slightly of the obligation it laid themunder. 

Being appealed to, I said, that I thought of marriage as one of the mostsolemn acts of a woman's life. 

And if of a woman's, of a man's, surely, interrupted Lady L----. If yourwhimsey, Charlotte, added she, arises from modesty, you reflect upon yoursister; and, what is worse, upon your mother. 

Charlotte put up her pretty lip, and was unconvinced. 

Lady Gertrude laid a heavy hand upon the affectation; yet admires herniece-elect. She distinguished between chamber-vows and church-vows. She mentioned the word decency. She spoke plainer, on Charlotte'sunfeeling perverseness. If a bride meant a compliment by it to thebridegroom, that was another thing; but then let her declare as much; andthat she was in an hurry to oblige him. 

Charlotte attempted to kill her by a look--She gave a worse to LordG----. And why, whispered she to him, as he sat next her, must thou shewall thy teeth, man?--As Lady Gertrude meant to shame her, I thought Icould as soon forgive that lady, as her who was the occasion of thefreedom of speech. 

But still she was perverse: she would not be married at all, she said, ifshe were not complied with. 

I whispered her, as I sat on the other side of her, I wish, Charlotte, the knot were tied: till then, you will not do even right things, but ina wrong manner. 

Dr. Bartlett was not present: he was making a kind visit to my cousinsReeves. When he came in, the debate was referred to him. He enteredinto it with her, with so much modesty, good sense, propriety, andsteadiness, that at last the perverse creature gave way: but hardly wouldneither, had he not assured her, that her brother would be entirelyagainst her; and that he himself must be excused performing the sacredoffice, but in a sacred place. She has set her heart on the doctor'smarrying her. 

The Earl of G---- and Lady Gertrude, as also Lord and Lady L----, wentaway, not dissatisfied with Charlotte's compliance: she is the mostungraciously graceful young woman I ever knew in her compliances. ButLord G---- was to pay for all: she and I had got together in the study:in bolted Lord G----, perhaps with too little ceremony. She coloured--Hey-day, sir! Who expected you? His countenance immediately fell. Hewithdrew precipitately. Fie, Charlotte! said I, recollect yourself--andrising, stept to the door, My lord--calling after him. 

He came back; but in a little ferment--I hoped, I hoped, madam, as youwere not in your own apartment, that I might, that I might have been--

Wherever ladies are by themselves, it is a lady's apartment, my lord, said she, with a haughtiness that sat better on her features, than theywould upon almost any other woman's. 

He looked, as if he knew not whether he should stay or go. Sit down, mylord, said I; we are not particularly engaged. He came nearer, his hatunder his arm, bowing to her, who sat as stately as a princess on herthrone: but yet looked disobliged. You give yourself pretty airs, mylord--don't you?

Pretty airs, madam!--Pretty airs!--By my soul, I think, madam--And withsuch a glow in your face, madam--Taking his laced hat from under his arm, and, with an earnest motion, swinging it backwards and forwards, asunknowing what he did--

What, sir, am I to be buffetted, sir?--

He put his hat under his arm again--Buffetted, madam!--Would toHeaven--

What has Heaven to do with your odd ways, Lord G----?

I beg pardon for intruding, madam--But I thought--

That you had a privilege, sir--But marriage itself, sir, shall not giveyou a privilege to break into my retirements. You thought, sir--Youcould not think--So much the worse if you did--

If I have really offended--I will be more circumspect for the future--Ibeg pardon, madam--Miss Byron, I hope, will forgive me too. 

He was going, in great discomposure, and with an air of angry humility. 

Charlotte, whispered I, don't be silly--

Come, come, now you have broke in upon us, you may stay--But anothertime, when you know me to be retired with a friend so dear to me, let itenter into your head, that no third person, unsent for, can be welcome. 

Poor man!--How he loves her!--His countenance changed at once to thehumble placid: he looked as if he had rather be in fault than she. 

Oh! how little did she make him look!

But he has often, as well as in this instance, let her see her power overhim. I am afraid she will use it. I now see it is and will be hismisfortune that she can vex him without being vexed herself: and what mayhe expect, who can be treated with feigned displeasure, which, while itseems to be in earnest to him, will be a jest to his wife?

I was very angry with her, when we were alone; and told her, that shewould be an enemy, I was afraid, of her own happiness. But she onlylaughed at me: Happiness, my dear! said she: that only is happiness whichwe think so. If I can be as happy in my way, as you can be in yours, shall I not pursue it? Your happiness, child, is in the still life. Ilove not a dead calm: now a tempest, now a refreshing breeze, I shallknow how to enjoy the difference--My brother will not be here to turnjest into earnest; as might perhaps be the effect of his mediation--But, heigh-ho, Harriet! that the first week were over, and I had got into mythrone!

She ended with an Italian air, contrasted with another heigh-ho; and leftme for a few moments. 

Poor Lord G----! said I, looking after her. 

She returned soon. Poor Lord G----! repeated she: those were the piteouswords you threw after me--But if I should provoke him, do you think hewould not give me a cuff, or so?--You know he can't return joke for joke;and he must revenge himself some way--If that should be the case, PoorCharlotte, I hope you would say--

Not if you deserved it. 

Deserve a cuff, Harriet!--Well, but I am afraid I shall. 

Remember next Tuesday, Charlotte!--You must vow obedience--Will you breakyour vow?--This is not a jesting matter. 

True, Harriet. And that it is not, was perhaps one of the reasons thatmade me disinclined to go to so solemn a place as the church with LordG----. Don't you think it one with those who insist upon being marriedin their own chamber?

I believe great people, said I, think they must not do right things inthe common way: that seems to me to be one of their fantastic reasons:but the vow is the vow, Charlotte: God is every where. 

Now you are so serious, Harriet, it is time to have done with thesubject. 

I have no sleep in my eyes; and must go on. What keeps me more wakefulis, my real concern for this naughty Miss Grandison, and my pity for LordG----; for the instance I have given you of her petulance is nothing towhat I have seen: but I thought, so near the day, she would have changedher behaviour to him. Surely, the situation her brother is in, withoutany fault of his own, might convince her, that she need not go out of herpath to pick up subjects for unhappiness. 

Such a kittenish disposition in her, I called it; for it is not so muchthe love of power that predominates in her mind, as the love ofplayfulness: and when the fit is upon her, she regards not whether it isa china cup, or a cork, that she pats and tosses about. But her sportwill certainly be the death of Lord G----'s happiness. Pity that SirCharles, who only has power over her, is obliged to go abroad so soon!But she has principles: Lady Grandison's daughter, Sir CharlesGrandison's sister, must have principles. The solemnity of the occasion;the office; the church; the altar;--must strike her: The vow--Will shenot regard the vow she makes in circumstances so awful? Could but myLord G---- assume dignity, and mingle raillery with it, and be able tolaugh with her, and sometimes at her, she would not make him her sport:she would find somebody else: A butt she must have to shoot at: but I amafraid he will be too sensible of her smartness: and she will have herjest, let who will suffer by it. 

Some of the contents of your last are very agreeable to me, Lucy. I willbegin in earnest to think of leaving London. Don't let me look silly inyour eyes, my dear, when I come. It was not so very presumptuous in me(was it?) to hope--When all his relations--When he himself--Yet what roomfor hope did he, could he, give me? He was honest; and I cheated myself:but then all you, my dearest friends, encouraged the cheat: nay, pointedmy wishes, and my hopes, by yours, before I had dared (shall I say, orcondescended?) to own them to myself. 

You may let that Greville know, if you please, that there is no room forhis If's, nor, of consequence, any for his menaces. You may own, that Ishall soon be in Northamptonshire. This may prevent his and Fenwick'sthreatened journey to town. 

But, Lucy, though my heart has been ever dutifully, as I may say, open tothe venerable domestic circle; though it would not have been an honestheart, could it, circumstanced as I was, have concealed itself from LadyD----; and must have been an impenetrable one indeed, if it could havebeen disguised to the two sisters here--yet, I beseech you, my dear, almost on my knees I beseech you, let not the audacious, the insultingGreville, have ground given him to suspect a weakness in your Harriet, which indelicate minds know not how to judge of delicately. Forsex-sake, for example-sake, Lucy, let it not be known, to any but thepartial, friendly few, that our grand-mamma Shirley's child, and auntSelby's niece, has been a volunteer in her affections. How many stillmore forward girls would plead Mrs. Shirley's approbation of the hastyaffection, without considering the circumstances, and the object! So thenext girl that run away to a dancing-master, or an ensign, would reckonherself one of Harriet's school. 

Poor Mr. Orme! I am sorry he is not well. It is cruel in you, Lucy, atthis time, to say, (so undoubtingly, ) that his illness is owing to hislove of me. You knew that such a suggestion would pain me. Heavenrestore Mr. Orme!

But I am vexed, as it cannot be to purpose, that Sir Charles Grandisonand I have been named together, and talked of, in your neighbourhood!--Hewill be gone abroad. I shall return to Northamptonshire: and shall lookso silly! So like a refused girl!

'Every body gives me to him, you say'--So much the worse. I wonder whatbusiness this every body has to trouble itself about me. 

One consolation, however, I shall have in my return; and that is, in myNancy's recovered health; which was so precarious when I set out forLondon. 

But I shall have nothing to entertain you with when I am with you: SirCharles Grandison, Lord and Lady L----, Lady G----, (as now in three orfour days she will be), my dear Miss Jervois, Dr. Bartlett, will be allmy subject. And have I not exhausted that by pen and ink? O no! Thedoctor promises to correspond with me; and he makes no doubt but SirCharles will correspond with him, as usual. 

What can the unusually tender friendship be called which he professed forme, and, as I may say, claimed in return from me? I know that he has nonotion of the love called Platonic. Nor have I: I think it, in general, a dangerous allowance; and, with regard to our sex, a very unequal one;since, while the man has nothing to fear, the woman has every thing, fromthe privileges that may be claimed, in an acknowledged confidence, especially in presence. Miss Grandison thus interprets what he said, andstrengthens her opinion by some of Dr. Bartlett's late intimations, thathe really loves me; but not being at liberty to avow his love, he knewnot what to say; and so went as near to a declaration as was possible todo in his circumstances. 

But might I not expect, from such a profession of friendship in SirCharles, an offer of correspondence in absence? And if he made theoffer, ought I to decline it? Would it not indicate too much on my side, were I to do so?--And does it not on his, if he make not the offer? Hecorresponds with Mrs. Beaumont: nobody thinks that any thing can be meantby that correspondence on either side; because Mrs. Beaumont must be atleast forty; Sir Charles but six or seven and twenty: but if he makes notthe request to Harriet, who is but little more than twenty; what, aftersuch professions of a friendship so tender, will be inferred from hisforbearance?

But I shall puzzle myself, and you too, Lucy, if I go on with this sortof reasoning; because I shall not know how to put all I mean into words. Have I not already puzzled you? I think my expression is weak andperplexed--But this offered and accepted friendship between two personsnot indelicate, must be perplexing; since he is the only young man in theworld, from whom a woman has no dishonour to fear. --Ah, Lucy!--It wouldbe vanity in me, would it not? to suppose that he had more to fear fromHarriet, than she has from him; as the virtue of either, I hope, is notquestionable? But the event of his Italian visit will explain andreconcile every thing. 

I will encourage a drowsy fit that seems to be stealing upon me. If Ihave not written with the perspicuity I always aim at, allow, Lucy, forthe time of night; for spirits not high; and for the subject, that havingits delicacies, as well as uncertainties, I am not able to write clearlyupon it. 

LETTER XIX

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONSATURDAY NIGHT, APRIL 9. 

Sir Charles is already returned: he arrived at Windsor on Friday morning;but found that Lord W---- had set out the afternoon of the day before, for the house of his friend Sir Joseph Lawrence, which is but fifteenmiles from Mansfield-house. 

Upon this intelligence, Sir Charles, wanting to return to town as soon ashe could, followed him to the knight's: and having time enough himself toreach Mansfield-house that night, he, by his uncle's consent, pursued hisjourney thither; to the great joy of the family; who wished for hispersonal introduction of my lord to Miss Mansfield. 

My lord arrived by breakfast-time, unfatigued, and in high spirits: staidat Mansfield-house all day; and promised so to manage, as to be in townto-morrow, in order to be present at his niece's nuptials on Tuesday. 

As for Sir Charles, he made the Mansfield family happy in his company thewhole Friday evening; inquiring into their affairs relating to theoppression they lay under; pointing out measures for redress; encouragingMiss Mansfield; and informing the brothers, that the lawyers he hadconsulted on their deeds, told him, that a new trial might be hoped for;the result of which, probably, would be a means to do them justice, sopowerfully protected and assisted as they would now be; for new lightshad broke in upon them, and they wanted but to recover a deed, which theyunderstood was in the hands of two gentlemen, named Hartley, who were butlately returned from the Indies. Thus prepared, the Mansfields also werein high spirits, the next morning; and looked, Sir Charles said, on eachother, when they met, as if they wanted to tell each other theiragreeable dreams. 

Sir Charles, in his way, had looked in upon Sir Harry Beauchamp, and hislady. He found Sir Harry in high spirits, expecting the arrival of hisson; who was actually landed from Calais, having met there his father'sletter, allowing him to return to England, and wishing in his own, and inLady Beauchamp's name, his speedy arrival. 

Sir Charles's impatience to see his friend, permitted him only tobreakfast with my lord and the Mansfields; and to know the opinion eachparty formed of the other, on this first interview; and then he set outto Sir Harry Beauchamp's. What an activity!--Heaven reward him with thegrant of his own wishes, whatever they be, and make him the happiest ofmen!

My lord is greatly taken with the lady, and her whole family. Well hemay, Sir Charles says. He blessed him, and called himself blessed in hissister's son, for his recommendation of each to the other. The ladythinks better of him, as her mother owned to Sir Charles, than shethought she should, from report. 

I begin to think, Lucy, that those who set out for happiness are mostlikely to find it, when they live single till the age of fancy is over. Those who marry while it lasts, are often disappointed of that which theypropose so largely to themselves: while those who wed for convenience, and deal with tolerable honesty by each other, are at a greatercertainty. Tolerable, I repeat, since, it seems, we are to expect thatboth parties will turn the best side of the old garment outward. Hencearises consolation to old maidens, and cautions against precipitation--Expatiate, my dear, on this fruitful subject: I would, were I at leisure. 

Sir Charles says that he doubts not, but Lord W---- will be as happy aman as he wishes to be, in less than a month. 

The deuse is in this brother of mine, whispered Miss Grandison, to me, for huddling up of marriages! He don't consider, that there may be twochances for one, that his honest folks may in half a year's time, blesshim the contrary way. 

Sir Charles told us, that he had desired Lord W---- to give out everywhere (that the adversaries of the Mansfield family might know it) hisintended alliance; and that he and his nephew were both determined toprocure a retrospection of all former proceedings. 

Sir Charles got to Sir Harry Beauchamp's a little before his friendarrived. Sir Harry took him aside at his alighting, and told him, thatLady Beauchamp had had clouds on her brow all the day, and he was afraid, would not receive his son with the graciousness that once he hoped forfrom her: but, that he left him to manage with her. She never, said he, had so high an opinion either of man or woman as she has of you. 

Sir Charles addressed himself to her, as not doubting her goodness uponthe foot of their former conversation; and praised her for the gracesthat however appeared but faintly in her countenance, till hiscompliments lighted them up, and made them shine full out in it. He toldher, that his sister and Lord G---- were to be married on the followingTuesday. He himself, he said, should set out for Paris on Friday after:but hoped to see a family intimacy begun between his sisters and LadyBeauchamp; and between their lords, and Sir Harry, and Mr. Beauchamp. Heapplauded her on the generosity of her intentions, as declared to him intheir former conference; and congratulated her on the power she had, ofwhich she made so noble an use, of laying, at the same time, anobligation on the tenderest of husbands, and the most deserving of sons:whose duty to her he engaged for. 

All this set her in high good humour; and she took to herself, andbridled upon it, to express myself in Charlotte's manner, the praises andgraces this adroit manager gave her, as if they were her unquestionabledue. 

This agreeable way they were all in, Sir Harry transported with hislady's goodness, when Mr. Beauchamp arrived. 

The young gentleman bent his knee to his stepmother, as well as to hisfather, and thanked her for the high favours his father had signified tohim by letter, that he owed to her goodness. She confirmed them; but, Sir Charles observed, with an ostentation that shewed she thought veryhighly of her own generosity. 

They had a very cheerful evening. Not one cloud would hang on LadyBeauchamp's brow, though once or twice it seemed a little overshadowed, as Mr. Beauchamp displayed qualities for which his father was too readyto admire him. Sir Charles thought it necessary to caution Sir Harry onthis subject; putting it in this light, that Lady Beauchamp loved herhusband so well, that she would be too likely to dread a rivalry in hisaffections from a son so very accomplished. Sir Harry took the hintkindly. 

Mr. Beauchamp was under a good deal of concern at Sir Charles'sengagements to leave England so soon after his arrival; and asked hisfather's leave to attend him. Sir Harry declared, that he could not partwith him. Sir Charles chid his friend, and said, it was not quite sohandsome a return as might have been expected from his Beauchamp, to thejoyful reception he had met with from his father, and Lady Beauchamp. But she excused the young gentleman, and said, she wondered not, thatany body who was favoured with his friendship, should be unwilling to beseparated from him. 

Sir Charles expresses great satisfaction in Mr. Beauchamp's being arrivedbefore his departure, that he may present to us, himself, a man with whomhe is sure we shall all be delighted, and leave him happy in the belovedsociety which he himself is obliged to quit. 

A repining temper, Lucy, would consider only the hardship of meeting along-absent friend, just to feel the uneasiness of a second parting: butthis man views every thing in a right light. When his own happiness isnot to be attained, he lays it out of his thoughts, and, as I haveheretofore observed, rejoices in that of others. It is a pleasure to seehow Sir Charles seems to enjoy the love which Dr. Bartlett expresses forthis friend of them both. 

Sir Charles addressed himself to me, on several occasions, in so polite, in so tender a manner, that every one told me afterwards, they are surehe loves me. Dr. Bartlett at the time, as he sat next me, whispered, onthe regret expressed by all on losing him so soon--Ah, madam!--I know, and pity, my patron's struggles!--Struggles, Lucy! What could the doctormean by this whisper to me? But I hope he guesses not at mine! If hedoes, would he have whispered his pity of Sir Charles to me?--Come, Lucy, this is some comfort, however; and I will endeavour to be brave upon it, that I may not, by my weakness, lessen myself in the doctor's goodopinion. 

It was agreed for Charlotte, (whose assent was given in these words--'Doas you will--or, rather, as my brother will--What signifies opposinghim?') that the nuptials shall be solemnized, as privately as possible, at St. George's church. The company is to drop in at different doors, and with as few attendants as may be. Lord W----, the Earl of G----, andLady Gertrude, Lord and Lady L----, Miss Jervois, and your Harriet, areto be present at the ceremony. I was very earnest to be excused, tillMiss Grandison, when we were alone, dropt down on one knee, and held upher hands, to beg me to accompany her. Mr. Everard Grandison, if he canbe found, is to be also there, at Sir Charles's desire. 

Dr. Bartlett, as I before hinted, at her earnest request, is to performthe ceremony. Sir Charles wished it to be at his own parish-church: butMiss Grandison thought it too near to be private. He was indifferent, asto the place, he said--So it was at church; for he had been told of thedifficulty we had to get Charlotte to desist from having it performed inher chamber; and seemed surprised. --Fie, Charlotte! said he--An office sosolemn!--Vows to receive and pay, as in the Divine Presence--

She was glad, she told me, that she had not left that battle to be foughtwith him. 

MONDAY, APRIL 10. 

Lord W---- is come. Lord and Lady L---- are here. They, and MissGrandison, received him with great respect. He embraced his nieces in avery affectionate manner. Sir Charles was absent. Lord W---- is inperson and behaviour a much more agreeable man than I expected him to be. Nor is he so decrepit with the gout, as I had supposed. He is verycareful of himself, it seems. This world has been kind to him; and Ifancy he makes a great deal of a little pain, for want of strongerexercises to his patience; and so is a sufferer by self-indulgence. HadI not been made acquainted with his free living, and with the insults hebore from Mrs. Giffard, with a spirit so poor and so low, I should havebelieved I saw not only the man of quality, but the man of sense, in hiscountenance. I endeavoured, however, as much as I could, to look uponhim as the brother of the late Lady Grandison. Had he been worthy ofthat relation, how should I have reverenced him!

But whatever I thought of him, he was highly taken with me. Heparticularly praised me for the modesty which he said was visible in mycountenance. Free-livers, Lucy, taken with that grace in a woman, whichthey make it their pride to destroy! But all men, good and bad, admiremodesty in a woman: And I am sometimes out of humour with our sex, thatthey do not as generally like modesty in men. I am sure that this grace, in Sir Charles Grandison, is one of his principal glories with me. Itemboldens one's heart, and permits one to behave before him with ease;and, as I may say, with security, in the consciousness of a rightintention. 

But what were Lord W----'s praises of his nephew! He called him, theglory of his sex, and of human nature. How the cheeks of the dear Emilyglowed at the praises given to her guardian!--She was the taller forthem: when she moved, it was on tiptoe; stealing as it were, across thefloor, lest she should lose any thing that was said on a subject sodelightful to her. 

My lord was greatly pleased with her too. He complimented her as thebeloved ward of the best of guardians. He lamented, with us, theoccasion that called his nephew abroad. He was full of his ownengagements with Miss Mansfield, and declared that his nephew shouldguide and govern him as he pleased in every material case, respectingeither the conduct of his future life, or the management and dispositionof his estate; declaring, that he had made his will, and, reserving onlyhis lady's jointure, and a few legacies, had left every thing to him. 

How right a thing, even in policy, is it, my dear, to be good andgenerous. 

I must not forget, that my lord wished with all his soul, that was hisexpression, that he might have the honour of giving to his nephew my handin marriage. 

I could feel myself blush. I half-suppressed a sigh: I would have whollysuppressed it, if I could. I recovered the little confusion, his tooplainly expressed wish gave me, by repeating to myself the word CLEMENTINA. 

This Charlotte is a great coward. But I dare not tell her so, for fearof a retort. I believe I should be as great a one in her circumstances, so few hours to one of the greatest events of one's life! But I pretendnot to bravery: yet hope, that in the cause of virtue or honour I shouldbe found to have a soul. 

I write now at my cousin's. I came hither to make an alteration in mydress. I have promised to be with the sweet Bully early in the morningof her important day. 

LETTER XX

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONTUESDAY NIGHT, | APRIL 11, 12. WEDNESDAY MORNING, |

Miss Grandison is no longer to be called by that name. She is LadyG----. May she make Lord G---- as happy as I dare say he will make her, if it be not her own fault!

I was early with her, according to promise. I found her more affectedthan she was even last night with her approaching change of condition. Her brother had been talking to her, she said; and had laid down theduties of the state she was about to enter into, in such a seriousmanner, and made the performance of them of so much importance to herhappiness both here and hereafter, that she was terrified at the thoughtsof what she was about to undertake. She had never considered matrimonyin that formidable light before. He had told her, that he was afraid ofher vivacity; yet was loath to discourage her cheerfulness, or to sayany thing that should lower her spirits. All he besought of her was, toregard times, tempers, and occasions; and then it would be impossible buther lively humour must give delight not only to the man whom she favouredwith her hand, but to every one who had the pleasure of approaching her. If, Charlotte, said he, you would have the world around you respect yourhusband, you must set the example. While the wife gives the least roomto suspect, that she despises her husband, she will find that shesubjects him to double contempt, if he resents it not; and if he does, can you be happy? Aggressors lay themselves open to severe reprisals. If you differ, you will be apt to make by-standers judges over you. Theywill remember, when you are willing to forget; and your fame will be thesport of those beneath you, as well in understanding as degree. 

She believed, she told me, that Lord G---- had been making somecomplaints of her. If he had--

Hush, my dear, said I--Not one word of threatening: are you moresolicitous to conceal your fault, than to amend it?

No--But you know, Harriet, for a man, before he has experienced what sortof a wife I shall make, to complain against me for foibles in courtship, when he can help himself if he will, has something so very little--

Your conscience, Charlotte, tells you, that he had reason for complaint;and therefore you think he has complained. Think the best of Lord G----for your own reputation's sake, since you thought fit to go thus far withhim. You have borne nothing from him: he has borne a great deal fromyou. 

I am fretful, Harriet; I won't be chidden: I will be comforted by you:you shall sooth me: are you not my sister? She threw her arms round me, and kissed my cheek. 

I ventured to rally her, though I was afraid of her retort, and met withit: but I thought it would divert her. I am glad, my dear, said I, thatyou are capable of this tenderness of temper: you blustering girls--Butfear, I believe, will make cowards loving. 

Harriet, said she, and flung from me to the window, remember this: may Isoon see you in the same situation! I will then have no mercy upon you. 

The subject, which Sir Charles led to at breakfast, was the threeweddings of Thursday last. He spoke honourably of marriage, and madesome just compliments to Lord and Lady L----; concluding them withwishes, that his sister Charlotte and Lord G---- might be neither morenor less happy than they were. Then turning to Lord W----, he said, hequestioned not his lordship's happiness with the lady he had so latelyseen; for I cannot doubt, said he, of your lordship's affectionategratitude to her, if she behaves, as I am sure she will. 

My lord had tears in his eyes. Never man had such a nephew as I have, said he. All the joy of my present prospects, all the comforts of myfuture life, are and will be owing to you. 

Here had he stopt, it would have been well: but turning to me, heunexpectedly said, Would to God, madam, that you could reward him! Icannot; and nobody else can. 

All were alarmed for me; every eye was upon me. A sickishness came overmy heart--I know not how to describe it. My head sunk upon my bosom. Icould hardly sit; yet was less able to rise. 

Sir Charles's face was overspread with blushes. He bowed to my lord. May the man, said he, who shall have the honour to call Miss Byron his, be, if possible, as deserving as she is! Then will they live togetherthe life of angels. 

He gracefully looked down; not at me; and I got a little courage to lookup: yet Lady L---- was concerned for me: so was Lord L----: Emily's eyedropt a tear upon her blushing cheek. 

Was it not, Lucy, a severe trial?--Indeed it was. 

My Lord, to mend the matter, lamented very pathetically, that Sir Charleswas under an obligation to go abroad; and still more, that he could notstay to be present at the celebration of his nuptials with MissMansfield. 

The Earl, Lord G----, Lady Gertrude, and the doctor, were to meet thebride and us at church. Lord and Lady L----, Sir Charles, and Emily, went in one coach: Miss Grandison and I in another. 

As we went, I don't like this affair at all, Harriet, said she. Mybrother has long made all other men indifferent to me. Such an infinitedifference!

Can any body be happier than Lord and Lady L----, Charlotte? Yet LadyL---- admires her brother as much as you can do. 

They happy!--And so they are. But Lady L----, soft soul! fell in lovewith Lord L---- before my brother came over. So the foundation was laid:and it being a first flame with her, she, in compliment to herself, couldnot but persevere. But the sorry creature Anderson, proving a sorrycreature, made me despise the sex: and my brother's perfectionscontributed to my contempt of all other men. 

Indeed, my dear, you are wrong. Lord G---- loves you: but were SirCharles not your brother, it is not very certain, that he would havereturned your love. 

Why, that's true. I believe he would not, in that case, have chosen me. I am sure he would not, if he had known you: but for the man one loves, one can do any thing, be every thing, that he would wish one to be. 

Do you think you cannot love Lord G----? For Heaven's sake, Charlotte, though you are now almost within sight of the church, do not think ofgiving your hand, if you cannot resolve to make Lord G---- as happy, as Ihave no doubt he will make you, if it be not your own fault. 

What will my brother say? What will--

Leave that to me. I will engage Sir Charles and Dr. Bartlett to lend metheir ear in the vestry; and I am sure your brother, if he knows that youhave an antipathy to Lord G----, or that you think you cannot be happywith him, will undertake your cause, and bring you off. 

Antipathy! That's a strong word, Harriet. The man is a good-naturedsilly man--

Silly! Charlotte!--Silly then he must be for loving you so well, who, really, have never yet given him an opportunity to shew his importancewith you. 

I do pity him sometimes. 

The coach stopt:--Ah, Lord! Harriet! The church! The church!

Say, Charlotte, before you step out--Shall I speak to your brother, andDr. Bartlett, in the vestry?

I shall look like a fool either way. 

Don't act like one, Charlotte, on this solemn occasion. Say, you willdeserve, that you will try to deserve, Lord G----'s love. 

Sir Charles appeared. Lord help me!--My brother!--I'll try, I'll try, what can be done. 

He gave each his hand in turn: in we flew: the people began to gatherabout us. Lord G---- all rapture, received her at the entrance. SirCharles led me: and the Earl and Lady Gertrude received us with joy intheir countenances. I overheard the naughty one say, as Lord G---- ledher up to the altar, You don't know what you are about, man. I expect tohave all my way: remember that's one of my articles before marriage. 

He returned her an answer of fond assent to her condition. I am afraid, thought I, poor Lord G----, you will be more than once reminded of thisprevious article. 

When she was led to the altar, and Lord G---- and she stood together, shetrembled. Leave me not, Harriet, said she. --Brother! Lady L----!

I am sure she looked sillier than Lord G---- at that instant. 

The good doctor began the office. No dearly beloveds, Harriet! whisperedshe, as I had said, on a really terrible occasion. I was offended withher in my heart: again she whispered something against the office, as thedoctor proceeded to give the reasons for the institution. Her levity didnot forsake her even at that solemn moment. 

When the service was over, every one (Sir Charles in a solemn and mostaffectionate manner) wished her happy. My Lord G---- kissed her handwith a bent knee. 

She took my hand. Ah! Lord, what have I done?--And am I married?whispered she--And can it never be undone?--And is that the man, to whomI am to be obedient?--Is he to be my lord and master?

Ah, Lady G----, said I, it is a solemn office. You have vowed: he hasvowed. --It is a solemn office. 

Lord G---- led her to the first coach. Sir Charles led me into the same. The people, to my great confusion, whispered. That's the bride! What acharming couple! Sir Charles handed Miss Emily next. Lord G---- camein: as he was entering, Harkee, friend, said Charlotte, and put out herhand, you mistake the coach: you are not of our company. 

The whole world, replied my lord, shall not now divide us: and took hisseat on the same side with Emily. 

The man's a rogue, Harriet, whispered she: See! He gives himself airsalready!

This, said Lord G---- as the coach drove on, taking one hand, and eagerlykissing it, is the hand that blessed me. 

And that, said she, pushing him from her with the other, is the hand thatrepulses your forwardness. What came you in here for?--Don't be silly. 

He was in raptures all the way. 

When we came home, every one embraced and wished joy to the bride. TheEarl and Lady Gertrude were in high spirits. The lady re-saluted herniece, as her dear niece: the earl recognised his beloved daughter. 

But prepare to hear a noble action of Lord W----. 

When he came up to compliment her--My dearest niece, said he, I wish youjoy with all my soul. I have not been a kind uncle. There is nofastening any thing on your brother. Accept of this: [and he put alittle paper into her hand--It was a banknote of 1, 000£. :] My sister'sdaughter, and your brother's sister, merits more than this. 

Was not this handsomely presented, Lucy?

He then, in a manner becoming Lady Grandison's brother, stept to LadyL----. My niece Charlotte is not my only niece. I wish you, my dear, asif this was your day of marriage, all happiness; accept these two papers:[The one, Lucy, was a note for 1, 000£. And the other for 100£. :] and hesaid, The lesser note is due to you for interest on the greater. 

When the ladies opened their notes, and saw what they were, they were atfirst at a loss what to say. 

It was most gracefully done. But see, Lucy, the example of a good andgenerous man can sometimes alter natures; and covetous men, I have heardit observed, when their hearts are opened, often act nobly. 

As soon as Lady G---- (so now I must call her) recovered herself from thesurprise into which my lord's present and address had put her, she wentto him: Allow me, my lord, said she, and bent one knee to him, to craveyour blessing; and at the same time to thank you for your paternalpresent to your ever obliged Charlotte. 

God bless you, my dear! saluting her--But thank your noble brother: youdelight me with your graceful acceptance. 

Lady L---- came up. My Lord, you overcome me by your bounty. --How shallI--

Your brother's princely spirit, Lady L----, said he, makes this presentlook mean. Forgive me only, that it was not done before. And he salutedher. 

Lord L---- came up. Lady L---- shewed him the opened notes--See here, mylord, said she, what Lord W---- has done: and he calls this the interestdue on that. 

Your lordship oppresses me with your goodness to your niece, said LordL----. May health, long-life, and happiness, attend you in your ownnuptials!

There, there, said Lord W----, pointing to Sir Charles, (who hadwithdrawn, and then entered), make your acknowledgment: his noble spirithas awakened mine; it was only asleep. My late sister's brother wantedbut the force of such an example. That son is all his mother. 

Sir Charles joining them, having heard only the last words--If I amthought a son not unworthy of the most excellent of mothers, said he, andby her brother, I am happy. 

Then you are happy, replied my lord. 

Her memory, resumed Sir Charles, I cherish; and when I have been temptedto forget myself, that memory has been a means of keeping me steady in myduty. Her precepts, my lord, were the guide of my early youth. Had Inot kept them in mind, how much more blamable than most young men had Ibeen!--My Charlotte! Have that mother in your memory, on this greatchange of your condition! You will not be called to her trials. --Hiseyes glistened. Tender be our remembrance of my father. --Charlotte, beworthy of your mother. 

He withdrew with an air so noble!--But soon returning, with a cheerfullook, he was told what Lord W---- had done--Your lordship was before, said he, entitled to our duty, by the ties of blood: but what is therelation of body to that of mind? You have bound me for my sisters, andthat still more by the manner, than by the act, in a bond of gratitudethat never can be broken!

Thank yourself, thank yourself, my noble nephew. 

Encourage, my lord, a family intimacy between your lady, and her niecesand nephews. You will be delighted, my sisters, with Miss Mansfield; butwhen she obliges my lord with her hand, you will reverence your aunt. Ishall have a pleasure, when I am far distant, in contemplating the familyunion. Your lordship must let me know your Day in time; and I will bejoyful upon it, whatever, of a contrary nature, I may have to strugglewith on my own account. 

My lord wept--My lord wept, did I say?--Not one of us had a dry eye!--This was a solemn scene, you will say, for a wedding day: but howdelightfully do such scenes dilate the heart!

The day, however, was not forgotten as a day of festivity. Sir Charleshimself, by his vivacity and openness of countenance, made every onejoyful: and, except that now and then a sigh, which could not be checked, stole from some of us, to think that he would so soon be in anothercountry, (far distant from the friends he now made happy, ) and engaged indifficulties; perhaps in dangers; every heart was present to the occasionof the day. 

O, Charlotte! Dear Lady G----! Hitherto, it is in your power, to makeevery future day, worthy of this!--'Have your mother, your noble mother, in your memory, my dear:' and give credit to the approbation of such abrother. 

I should have told you, that my cousins Reeves came about two, and werereceived with the utmost politeness by every body. 

Sir Charles was called out just before dinner; and returned introducing ayoung gentleman, dressed as if for the day--This is an earlier favour, than I had hoped for, said Sir Charles; and leading him to Lady G----. This, sir, is the queen of the day. My dear Lady G----, welcome (thehouse is yours--welcome) the man I love: welcome my Beauchamp. 

Every one, except Emily and me, crowded about Mr. Beauchamp, as SirCharles's avowedly beloved friend, and bid him cordially welcome: SirCharles presenting him to each by name. 

Then leading him to me--I am half ashamed, Lucy, to repeat--But take itas he spoke it--Revere, said he, my dear friend, that excellent younglady: but let not your admiration stop at her face and person: she has amind as exalted, my Beauchamp, as your own: Miss Byron, in honour to mysister, and of us all, has gilded this day by her presence. 

Mr. Beauchamp approached me with polite respect. The lady whom SirCharles Grandison admires, as he does you, must be the first of women. 

I might have said, that he, who was so eminently distinguished as thefriend of Sir Charles Grandison, must be a most valuable man: but myspirits were not high. I courtesied to his compliment; and was silent. 

Sir Charles presented Emily to him. --My Emily, Beauchamp. I hope to liveto see her happily married. The man whose heart is but half so worthy ashers, must be an excellent man. 

Modesty might look up, and be sensible to compliments from the lips ofsuch a man. Emily looked at me with pleasure, as if she had said, Do youhear, madam, what a fine thing my guardian has said of me?

Sir Charles asked Mr. Beauchamp, how he stood with my Lady Beauchamp?

Very well, answered he. After such an introduction as you had given meto her, I must have been to blame, had I not. She is my father's wife: Imust respect her, were she ever so unkind to me: she is not without goodqualities. Were every family so happy as to have Sir Charles Grandisonfor a mediator when misunderstandings happened, there would be very fewlasting differences among relations. My father and mother tell me, thatthey never sit down to table together, but they bless you: and to me theyhave talked of nobody else: but Lady Beauchamp depends upon your promiseof making her acquainted with the ladies of your family. 

My sisters, and their lords, will do honour to my promise in my absence. Lady L----, Lady G----, let me recommend to you Lady Beauchamp as morethan a common visiting acquaintance. Do you, sir, to Mr. Beauchamp, seeit cultivated. 

Mr. Beauchamp is an agreeable, and, when Sir Charles Grandison is not incompany, a handsome and genteel man. I think, my dear, that I do but thesame justice that every body would do, in this exception. He ischeerful, lively, yet modest, and not too full of words. One sees bothlove and respect in every look he casts upon his friend; and that he isdelighted when he hears him speak, be the subject what it will. 

He once said to Lord W----, who praised his nephew to him, as he does toeverybody near him; The universal voice, my lord, is in his favourwherever he goes. Every one joins almost in the same words, in differentcountries, allowing for the different languages, that for sweetness ofmanners, and manly dignity, he hardly ever had his equal. 

Sir Charles was then engaged in talk with his Emily; she before him; hestanding in an easy genteel attitude, leaning against the wainscot, listening, smiling, to her prattle, with looks of indulgent love, as afather might do to a child he was fond of; while she looked back everynow and then towards me, so proud, poor dear! of being singled out by herguardian. 

She tript to me afterwards, and, leaning over my shoulder, as I sat, whispered--I have been begging of my guardian to use his interest withyou, madam, to take me down with you to Northamptonshire. 

And what is the result?

She paused. 

Has he denied your request?

No, madam. 

Has he allowed you to go, my dear, if I comply, turning half round to herwith pleasure. 

She paused, and seemed at a loss. I repeated my question. 

Why, no, he has not consented neither--But he said such charming things, so obliging, so kind, both of you, and of me, that I forgot my question, though it was so near my heart: but I will ask him again. 

And thus, Lucy, can he decline complying, and yet send away a requesterso much delighted with him, as to forget what her request was. 

Miss Grandison--Lady G----, I would say--singled me out soon after--ThisBeauchamp is really a very pretty fellow, Harriet. 

He is an agreeable man, answered I. 

So I think. She said no more of him at that time. 

Between dinner and tea, at Lady L----'s motion, they made me play on theharpsichord; and after one lesson, they besought Sir Charles to sing tomy playing. He would not, he said, deny any request that was made him onthat day. 

He sung. He has a mellow manly voice, and great command of it. 

This introduced a little concert. Mr. Beauchamp took the violin; LordL---- the bass-viol; Lord G---- the German flute; and most of the companyjoined in the chorus. The song was from 'Alexander's Feast:' the words;

 Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the good deserves the fair:

Sir Charles, though himself equally brave and good, preferring the latterword to the former. 

Lady L---- had always insisted upon dancing at her sister's wedding. Wewere not company enough for country dances: but music having beenordered, and the performers come, it was insisted upon that we shouldhave a dance, though we were engaged in a conversation that I thoughtinfinitely more agreeable. 

Lord G---- began by dancing a minuet with his bride: she dancedcharmingly: but on my telling her so afterwards, she whispered me, thatshe should have performed better, had she danced with her brother. LordG---- danced extremely well. 

Lord L---- and Lady Gertrude, Mr. Beauchamp and Mrs. Reeves, Mr. Reevesand Lady L---- danced all of them very agreeably. 

The earl took me out: but we had hardly done, when, asking pardon fordisgracing me, as he too modestly expressed himself; he, and all but mycousins and Emily, called out for Sir Charles to dance with me. 

I was abashed at the general voice calling upon us both: but it wasobeyed. 

He deserved all the praises that Miss Gran--Lady G----, I would say, gave him in her letter to me. 

Lord bless me, my dear, this man is every thing! But his conversationhas ever been among the politest people of different nations. 

Lord W---- wished himself able, from his gout, to take out Miss Jervois. 

The bridegroom was called upon by Sir Charles: and he took out the goodgirl, who danced very prettily. I fancied, that he chose to call outLord G---- rather than Mr. Beauchamp. He is the most delicate andconsiderate of men. 

Sir Charles was afterwards called upon by the bride herself: and shedanced then with a grace indeed! I was pleased that she could perform sowell at her own wedding. 

Supper was not ready till twelve. Mr. Reeves's coach came about thathour; but we got not away till two. 

Perhaps the company would not have broke up so soon, had not the bridebeen perverse, and refused to retire. 

Was she not at home? she asked Lady L----, who was put upon urging her:and should she leave her company?

She would make me retire with her. She took a very affectionate leave ofme. 

Marriage, Lucy, is an awful rite. It is supposed to be a joyfulsolemnity: but, on the woman's side, it can be only so when she is givento the man she loves above all the men in the world; and, even to her, the anniversary day, when doubt is turned into certainty, must be muchhappier than the day itself. 

What a victim must that woman look upon herself to be, who is compelled, or even over-persuaded, to give her hand to a man who has no share in herheart? Ought not a parent or guardian, in such a circumstance, especially if the child has a delicate, an honest mind, to be chargablewith all the unhappy consequences that may follow from such a cruelcompulsion?

But this is not the case with Miss Grandison. Early she cast her eye onan improper object. Her pride convinced her in time of the impropriety. And this, as she owns, gave her an indifference to all men. 

She hates not Lord G----. There is no man whom she prefers to him. Andin this respect, may perhaps, be upon a par with eight women out oftwelve, who marry, and yet make not bad wives. 

As she played with her passion till she lost it, she may be happy, if shewill: and since she intended to be, some time or other, Lady G----, herbrother was kind in persuading her to shorten her days of coquetting andteasing, and allow him to give her to Lord G---- before he went abroad. 

LETTER XXI

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONWEDNESDAY, APRIL 12. 

Dr. Bartlett was so good as to breakfast with my cousins and me thismorning. He talks of setting out for Grandison-hall on Saturday orMonday next. We have settled a correspondence; and he gives me hope, that he will make me a visit in Northamptonshire. I know you will allrejoice to see him. 

Emily came in before the doctor went. She brought me the compliments ofthe bride, and Lord W----, with their earnest request, that I would dinewith them. Sir Charles was gone, she said, to make a farewell visit tothe Danby set; but would be at home at dinner. 

It would be better for me, I think, Lucy, to avoid all opportunities ofseeing him: Don't you think so?--There is no such thing as seeing himwith indifference. But, so earnestly invited, how could I deny;especially as my cousins were inclinable to go?

Miss Jervois whispered me at parting. I never before, said she, had anopportunity to observe the behaviour of a new-married couple to eachother: but is it customary, madam, for the bride to be more snappish, asthe bridegroom is more obliging?

Lady G---- is very naughty, my dear, if she so behaves, as to give youreason to ask this question. 

She does: and, upon my word, I see more obedience where it was notpromised, than where it was. Dear madam, is not what is said at churchto be thought of afterwards? But why did not the doctor make her speakout? What signified bowing, except a woman was so bashful that she couldnot speak?

The bowing, my dear, is an assent. It is as efficacious as words. LordG---- only bowed, you know. Could you like to be called upon, Emily, tospeak out?

Why, no. But then I would be very civil and good-natured to my husband, if it were but for fear he should be cross to me: but I should think itmy duty as well

Sweet innocent!

She went away, and left the doctor with me. 

When our hearts are set upon a particular subject, how impertinent, howmuch beside the purpose, do we think every other! I wanted the doctor totalk of Sir Charles Grandison: but as he fell not into the subject, andas I was afraid he would think me to be always leading him into it, if Ibegan it, I suffered him to go away at his first motion: I never knew himso shy upon it, however. 

Sir Charles returned to dinner. He has told Lady L----, who afterwardstold us, that he had a hint from Mr. Galliard, senior, that if he werenot engaged in his affections, he was commissioned to make him a verygreat proposal in behalf of one of the young ladies he had seen theThursday before; and that from her father. 

Surely, Lucy, we may pronounce without doubt, that we live in an age inwhich there is a great dearth of good men, that so many offers fall tothe lot of one. But, I am thinking, 'tis no small advantage to SirCharles, that his time is so taken up, that he cannot stay long enough inany company to suffer them to cast their eyes on other objects, withdistinction. He left the numerous assembly at Enfield, while they werein the height of their admiration of him. Attention, love, admiration, cannot be always kept at the stretch. You will observe, Lucy, that onthe return of a long-absent dear friend, the rapture lasts not more thanan hour: gladdened, as the heart is, the friend received, and the friendsreceiving, perhaps in less than that time, can sit down quietly together, to hear and to tell stories, of what has happened to either in the longregretted absence. It will be so with us, Lucy, when I return to thearms of my kind friends: and now, does not Sir Charles's proposed journeyto Italy endear his company to us?

The Earl of G----, Lady Gertrude, and two agreeable nieces of thatnobleman's, were here at dinner. Lady G---- behaved pretty well to herlord before them: but I, who understood the language of her eyes, sawthem talk very saucily to him, on several occasions. My lord is a littleofficious in his obligingness; which takes off from that graceful, thatpolite frankness, which so charmingly, on all occasions, distinguishesone happy man, who was then present. Lord G---- will perhaps appear moreto advantage in that person's absence. 

Mr. Beauchamp was also present. He is indeed an agreeable, a modestyoung man. He appeared to great advantage, as well in his conversation, as by his behaviour: and not the less for subscribing in both to thesuperiority of his friend; who, nevertheless, endeavoured to draw him outas the first man. 

After dinner, Lady L----, Lady G----, and I, found an opportunity to beby ourselves for one half hour. Lady G---- asked Lady L---- what sheintended to do with the thousand pounds with which Lord W---- had sogenerously presented her?--Do with it, my dear!--What do you think Iintend to do with it?--It is already disposed of. 

I'll be hanged, said Lady G----, if this good creature has not given itto her husband. 

Indeed, Charlotte, I have. I gave it to him before I slept. 

I thought so! She laughed--And Lord L---- took it! Did he?

To be sure he did. I should otherwise have been displeased with him. 

Dear, good soul!--And so you gave him a thousand pounds to take part ofit back from him, by four or five paltry guineas at a time, at hispleasure?

Lord L---- and I, Charlotte, have but one purse. You may not perhaps, know how we manage it?

Pray, good, meek, dependent creature! how do you manage it?

Thus, Charlotte: My lord knows that his wife and he have but oneinterest; and from the first of our happy marriage, he would make me takeone key, as he has another, of the private drawer, where his money andmoney-bills lie. There is a little memorandum-book in the drawer, inwhich he enters on one page, the money he receives; on the opposite, themoney he takes out: and when I want money, I have recourse to my key. IfI see but little in the drawer, I am the more moderate; or, perhaps, ifmy want is not urgent, defer the supplying of it till my lord is richer:but, little or much, I minute down the sum, as he himself does; and so weknow what we are about; and I never put it out of my lord's power, by myunseasonable expenses, to preserve that custom of his, for which he is asmuch respected, as well served; not to suffer a demand to be twice madeupon him where he is a debtor. 

Good soul!--And, pray, don't you minute down, too, the use to which youput the money you take out?

Indeed I often do: always, indeed, when I take out more than five guineasat one time: I found my lord did so: and I followed the example of my ownaccord. 

Happy pair! said I. --O Lady G----, what a charming example is this!--Ihope you'll follow it. 

Thank you, Harriet, for your advice. Why, I can't but say, that this isone pretty way of coaxing each other into frugality: but don't you think, that where an honest pair are so tender of disobliging, and so studiousof obliging each other, that they seem to confess that the matrimonialgood understanding hangs by very slender threads?

And do not the tenderest friendships, said I, hang by as slender? Candelicate minds be united to each other but by delicate observances?

Why thou art a good soul, too, Harriet!--And so you would both have memake a present to Lord G---- of my thousand pounds before we have chosenour private drawer; before he has got two keys made to it?

Let him know, Charlotte, what Lord L---- and I do, if you think theexample worth following--And then--

Ay, and then give him my thousand pounds for a beginning, Lady L----?But see you not that this proposal should come from him, not from me?--And should we not let each other see a little of each other's meritsfirst?

See, first, the merits of the man you have married, Charlotte!

Yes, Lady L----. But yesterday married, you know. Can there be agreater difference between any two men in the world, than there often isbetween the same man, a lover, and a husband?--And now, my generousadvisers, be pleased to continue silent. You cannot answer me fairly. And besides, wot ye not the indelicacy of an early present, which you arenot obliged to make?

We were both silent, each expecting the other to answer the strangecreature. 

She laughed at us both. Soft souls, and tender! said she, let me tellyou, that there is more indelicacy in delicacy, than you very delicatepeople are aware of. 

You, Charlotte, said Lady L----, have odder notions than any body else. Had you been a man, you would have been a sad rake. 

A rake, perhaps, I might have been; but not a sad one, Lady L----. 

Lady G---- can't help being witty, said I: it is sometimes hermisfortune, sometimes ours, that she cannot: however, I highly approve ofthe example set by Lord L----, and followed by Lady L----. 

And so do I, Harriet. And when Lord G---- sets the example, I shall--consider of it. I am not a bad economist. Had I ten thousand pounds inmy hands, I would not be extravagant: had I but one hundred, I would notbe mean. I value not money but as it enables me to lay an obligation, instead of being under the necessity of receiving one. I am my mother'sdaughter, and brother's sister; and yours, Lady L----, in thisparticular; and yours too, Harriet: different means may be taken toarrive at the same end. Lord G---- will have no reason to bedissatisfied with my prudence in money-matters, although I should notmake him one of my best courtesies, as if--as if--(and she laughed; butchecking herself)--I were conscious--again she laughed--that I had signedand sealed to my absolute dependence on his bounty. 

What a mad creature! said Lady L----: But, my Harriet, don't you thinkthat she behaved pretty well to Lord G---- at table?

Yes, answered I, as those would think who observe not her arch looks: butshe gave me pain for her several times; and, I believe, her brother wasnot without his apprehensions. 

He had his eyes upon you, Harriet, replied Lady G----, more earnestlythan he had upon me, or any body else. 

That's true, said Lady L----. I looked upon both him and you, my dear, with pity. My tears were ready to start more than once, to reflect howhappy you two might be in each other, and how greatly you would love eachother, were it not----

Not one word more on this subject, dear Lady L----! I cannot bear it. Ithought my-self, that he often cast an eye of tenderness upon me. Icannot bear it. I am afraid of myself; of my justice--

His tender looks did not escape me, said Lady G----. Nor yet did my dearHarriet's. But we will not touch this string: it is too tender a one. I, for my part, was forced, in order to divert myself, to turn my eyes onLord G----. He got nothing by that. The most officious--

Nay, Lady G----, interrupted I, you shall not change the discourse at theexpense of the man you have vowed to honour. I will be pained myself, bythe continuation of the former subject, rather than that shall be. 

Charming Harriet! said Lady L----. I hope your generosity will berewarded. Yet tell me, my dear, can you wish Lady Clementina may be his?I have no doubt but you wish her recovery; but can you wish her to behis?

I have debated the matter, my dear Lady L----, with myself. I am sorryit has admitted of debate: so excellent a creature! Such an honour toher sex! So nobly sincere! So pious!--But I will confess the truth: Ihave called upon justice to support me in my determination: I havesupposed myself in her situation, her unhappy malady excepted: I havesupposed her in mine: and ought I then to have hesitated to which to givethe preference?--Yet--

What yet, most frank, and most generous of women? said Lady L----, clasping her arms about me: what yet--

Why, yet-Ah, ladies--Why, yet, I have many a pang, many a twitch, as Imay call it!--Why is your brother so tender-hearted, so modest, sofaultless!--Why did he not insult me with his pity? Why does he on everyoccasion shew a tenderness for me, that is more affecting than pity? Andwhy does he give me a consequence that exalts, while it depresses me?

I turned my head aside to hide my emotion--Lady G---- snatched myhandkerchief from me; and wiped away a starting tear; and called me byvery tender names. 

Am I dear, continued I, to the heart of such a man? You think I am. Allow me to say, that he is indeed dear to mine: yet I have not a wishbut for his happiness, whatever becomes of me. 

Emily appeared at the door--May I come in, ladies?--I will come in!--Mydear Miss Byron affected! My dear Miss Byron in tears!

Her pity, without knowing the cause, sprung to her eyes. She took myhand in both hers, and repeatedly kissed it!--My guardian asks for you. O with what tenderness of voice--Where is your Miss Byron, love? Hecalls every one by gentle names, when he speaks of you--His voice then isthe voice of love--Love, said he to me! Through you, madam, he will lovehis ward--And on your love will I build all my merit. But you sigh, dearMiss Byron! you sigh--Forgive your prating girl!--You must not begrieved. 

I embraced her. Grief, my dear, reaches not my heart at this time. Itis the merit of your guardian that affects me. 

God bless you, madam, for your gratitude to my guardian!

A Clementina and a Harriet! said Lady L----, two women so excellent!What a fate is his! How must his heart be divided!

Divided, say you, Lady L----! resumed Lady G----. The man who lovesvirtue, for virtue's sake, loves it wherever he finds it: Such a man maydistinguish more virtuous women than one: and if he be of a gentle andbeneficent nature, there will be tenderness in his distinction to everyone, varying only according to the difference of circumstance andsituation. 

Let me embrace you, my Charlotte! resumed Lady L----. For that thought. Don't let me hear, for a month to come, one word from the same lips, thatmay be unworthy of it. 

You have Lord G---- in your head, Lady L----: but never mind us. He mustnow and then be made to look about him. I'll take care to keep up myconsequence with him, never fear: nor shall he have reason to doubt thevirtue of his wife. 

Virtue, my dear! said I: What is virtue only? She who will not bevirtuous for virtue's sake, is not worthy to be called a woman: but shemust be something more than virtuous for her husband's, nay, for hervow's sake. Complacency, obligingness--

Obedience too, I warrant--Hush, hush, my sweet Harriet! putting her handbefore my mouth, we will behave as well as we can: and that will be verywell, if nobody minds us. And now let us go down together. 

LETTER XXII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONTHURSDAY, APRIL 13. 

We played at cards last night till supper-time. When that was over, every one sought to engage Sir Charles in discourse. I will give yousome particulars of our conversation, as I did of one before. 

Lord W---- began it with a complaint of the insolence and profligatenessof servants. What he said, was only answered by Sir Charles, with theword Example, example, my good lord, repeated. 

You, Sir Charles, replied my lord, may indeed insist upon the force ofexample; for I cannot but observe, that all those of yours, whom I haveseen, are entitled to regard. They have the looks of men at ease, and ofmen grateful for that ease: they know their duty, and need not areminding look. A servant of yours, Sir Charles, looks as if he wouldone day make a figure as a master. How do you manage it?

Perhaps I have been peculiarly fortunate in worthy servants. There isnothing in my management deserving the attention of this company. 

I am going to begin the world anew, nephew. Hitherto, servants have beena continual plague to me. I must know how you treat them. 

I treat them, my lord, as necessary parts of my family. I have nosecrets, the keeping or disclosing of which might give themself-importance. I endeavour to set them no bad example. I am neverangry with them but for wilful faults: if those are not habitual, I shamethem into amendment, by gentle expostulation and forgiveness. If theyare not capable of a generous shame, and the faults grow habitual, I partwith them; but with such kindness, as makes their fellow-servants blamethem, and take warning. I am fond of seeking occasions to praise them:and even when they mistake, if it be with a good intention, they have myapprobation of the intention, and my endeavours to set them right as tothe act. Sobriety is an indispensable qualification for my service; andfor the rest, if we receive them not quite good, we make them better thanthey were before. Generally speaking, a master may make a servant whathe pleases. Servants judge by example, rather than precept, and almostalways by their feelings. One thing more permit me to add; I alwaysinsist upon my servants being kind and compassionate to one another. Acompassionate heart cannot habitually be an unjust one. And thus do Imake their good-nature contribute to my security, as well as quiet. 

My lord was greatly pleased with what his nephew said. 

Upon some occasion, Lady G---- reflected upon a lady for prudery, and wasgoing on, when Sir Charles, interrupting her, said, Take care, LadyG----. You, ladies, take care; for I am afraid, that MODESTY, under thisname, will become ignominious, and be banished the hearts, at least thebehaviour and conversation, of all those whose fortunes or inclinationscarry them often to places of public resort. 

Talk of places of public resort! said Lord L----: It is vexatious toobserve at such, how men of real merit are neglected by the fine ladiesof the age, while every distinction is shewn to fops and foplings. 

But, who, my lord, said Sir Charles, are those women? Are they notgenerally of a class with those men? Flippant women love empty men, because they cannot reproach them with a superiority of understanding, but keep their folly in countenance. They are afraid of a wise man: butI would by no means have such a one turn fool to please them: for theywill despise the wise man's folly more than the silly man's, and withreason; because being uncharacteristic, it must sit more awkwardly uponhim than the other's can do. 

Yet wisdom itself, and the truest wisdom, goodness, said Mrs. Reeves, issometimes thought to sit ungracefully, when it is uncharacteristic, notto the man, but to the times. She then named a person who was branded asa hypocrite, for performing all his duties publicly. 

He will be worse spoken of, if he declines doing so, said Dr. Bartlett. His enemies will add the charge of cowardice; and not acquit him of theother. 

Lady Gertrude being withdrawn, it was mentioned as a wonder, that soagreeable a woman, as she must have been in her youth, and still was forher years, should remain single. Lord G---- said, that she had had manyoffers: and once, before she was twenty, had like to have stolen awedding: but her fears, he said, since that, had kept her single. 

The longer, said Sir Charles, a woman remains unmarried, the moreapprehensive she will be of entering into the state. At seventeen oreighteen a girl will plunge into it, sometimes without either fear orwit; at twenty she will begin to think; at twenty-four will weigh anddiscriminate; at twenty-eight will be afraid of venturing; at thirty willturn about, and look down the hill she has ascended; and, as occasionsoffer, and instances are given, will sometimes repent, sometimes rejoice, that she has gained that summit sola. 

Indeed, said Mrs. Reeves, I believe in England many a poor girl goes upthe hill with a companion she would little care for, if the state of asingle woman were not here so peculiarly unprovided and helpless: forgirls of slender fortunes, if they have been genteelly brought up, howcan they, when family connexions are dissolved, support themselves? Aman can rise in a profession, and if he acquires wealth in a trade, canget above it, and be respected. A woman is looked upon as demeaningherself, if she gains a maintenance by her needle, or by domesticattendance on a superior; and without them where has she a retreat?

You speak, good Mrs. Reeves, said Sir Charles, as if you would join withDr. Bartlett and me in wishing the establishment of a scheme we haveoften talked over, though the name of it would make many a lady start. We want to see established in every county, Protestant Nunneries, inwhich single women of small or no fortunes might live with all manner offreedom, under such regulations as it would be a disgrace for a modest orgood woman not to comply with, were she absolutely on her own hands; andto be allowed to quit it whenever they pleased. 

Well, brother, said Lady G----, and why could you not have got all thissettled a fortnight ago, (you that can carry every point, ) and have madepoor me a lady abbess?

You are still better provided for, my sister. But let the doctor and meproceed with our scheme. The governesses or matrons of the society Iwould have to be women of family, of unblamable characters from infancy, and noted equally for their prudence, good-nature, and gentleness ofmanners. The attendants, for the slighter services, should be thehopeful female children of the honest industrious poor. 

Do you not, ladies, imagine, said Dr. Bartlett, that such a society asthis, all women of unblemished reputation, employing themselves as each, (consulting her own genius, ) at her admission, shall undertake to employherself, and supported genteelly, some at more, some at less expense tothe foundation, according to their circumstances, might become a nationalgood; and particularly a seminary for good wives, and the institution astand for virtue, in an age given up to luxury, extravagance, andamusements little less than riotous?

How could it be supported? said Lord W----. 

Many of the persons, of which each community would consist, would be, Iimagine, replied Sir Charles, no expense to it at all; as numbers ofyoung women, joining their small fortunes, might be able, in such asociety, to maintain themselves genteelly on their own income; thougheach, singly in the world, would be distressed. Besides, liberty mightbe given for wives, in the absence of their husbands, in this maritimecountry; and for widows, who, on the deaths of theirs, might wish toretire from the noise and hurry of the world, for three, six, or twelvemonths, more or less; to reside in this well-regulated society. And suchpersons, we may suppose, would be glad, according to their respectiveabilities, to be benefactresses to it. No doubt but it would havebesides the countenance of the well-disposed of both sexes; since everyfamily in Britain, in their connexions and relations, near or distant, might be benefited by so reputable and useful an institution: to saynothing of the works of the ladies in it, the profits of which perhapswill be thought proper to be carried towards the support of a foundationthat so genteelly supports them. Yet I would have a number of hours ineach day, for the encouragement of industry, that should be called theirown; and what was produced in them, to be solely appropriated to theirown use. 

A truly worthy divine, at the appointment of the bishop of the diocese, to direct and animate the devotion of such a society, and to guard itfrom that superstition and enthusiasm which soars to wild heights inalmost all nunneries, would confirm it a blessing to the kingdom. 

I have another scheme, my lord, proceeded Sir Charles--An hospital forfemale penitents; for such unhappy women, as having been once drawn in, and betrayed by the perfidy of men, find themselves, by the cruelty ofthe world, and principally by that of their own sex, unable to recoverthe path of virtue, when perhaps, (convinced of the wickedness of the menin whose honour they confided, ) they would willingly make their firstdeparture from it the last. 

These, continued he, are the poor creatures who are eminently entitled toour pity, though they seldom meet with it. Good nature, and credulity, the child of good nature; are generally, as I have the charity tobelieve, rather than viciousness, the foundation of their crime. Thosemen who pretend they would not be the first destroyers of a woman'sinnocence, look upon these as fair prize. But, what a wretch is he, whoseeing a poor creature exposed on the summit of a dangerous precipice, and unable, without an assisting hand, to find her way down, would ratherpush her into the gulf below, than convey her down in safety?

Speaking of the force put upon a daughter's inclinations in wedlock;Tyranny and ingratitude, said Sir Charles, from a man beloved, will bemore supportable to a woman of strong passions, than even kindness from aman she loves not: Shall not parents then, who hope to see their childrenhappy, avoid compelling them to give their hands to a man who has noshare in their hearts?

But would you allow young ladies to be their own choosers, Sir Charles?said Mr. Reeves. 

Daughters, replied he, who are earnest to choose for themselves, shouldbe doubly careful that prudence justifies their choice. Every widow whomarries imprudently, (and very many there are who do, ) furnishes a strongargument in favour of a parent's authority over a maiden daughter. Adesigning man looks out for a woman who has an independent fortune, andhas no questions to ask. He seems assured of finding indiscretion andrashness in such a one, to befriend him. But ought not she to thinkherself affronted, and resolve to disappoint him?

But how, said Lady G----, shall a young creature be able to judge--

By his application to her, rather than to her natural friends andrelations; by his endeavouring to alienate her affections from them; bywishing her to favour private and clandestine meetings (conscious thathis pretensions will not stand discussion); by the inequality of hisfortune to hers: and has not our excellent Miss Byron, in the letters toher Lucy, (bowing to me, ) which she has had the goodness to allow us toread, helped us to a criterion? 'Men in their addresses to young women, 'she very happily observes, 'forget not to set forward the advantages bywhich they are distinguished, whether hereditary or acquired; while love, love, is all the cry of him who has no other to boast of. '

And by that means, said Lady Gertrude, setting the silly creature atvariance with all her friends, he makes her fight his battles for him;and become herself the cat's paw to help him to the ready roastedchesnuts. 

But, dear brother, said Lady G----, do you think love is such a staiddeliberate passion, as to allow a young creature to take time to ponderand weigh all the merits of the cause?

Love at first sight, answered Sir Charles, must indicate a mind preparedfor impression, and a sudden gust of passion, and that of the least noblekind; since there could be no opportunity of knowing the merit of theobject. What woman would have herself supposed capable of such a tinderyfit? In a man, it is an indelicate paroxysm: but in a woman, who expectsprotection and instruction from a man, much more so. Love, at first, maybe only fancy. Such a young love may be easily given up, and ought, to aparent's judgment. Nor is the conquest so difficult as some youngcreatures think it. One thing, my good Emily, let me say to you, as arule of some consequence in the world you are just entering into--Youngpersons, on arduous occasions, especially in love-cases, should notpresume to advise young persons; because they seldom can divestthemselves of passion, partiality, or prejudice; that is, indeed, ofyouth; and forbear to mix their own concerns and biases with the questionreferred to them. It should not be put from young friend to youngfriend, What would you do in such a case? but, What ought to be done?

How the dear girl blushed, and how pleased she looked, to be particularlyaddressed by her guardian!

Lady Gertrude spoke of a certain father, who for interested views obligedhis daughter to marry at fifteen, when she was not only indifferent tothe man, but had formed no right notions of the state. 

And are they not unhappy? asked Sir Charles. 

They are, replied she. 

I knew such an instance, returned he. The lady was handsome, and had herfull share of vanity. She believed every man who said civil things toher, was in love with her; and had she been single, that he would havemade his addresses to her. She supposed, that she might have had thisgreat man, or that, had she not been precipitated: And this brought herto slight the man who had, as she concluded, deprived her of betteroffers. They were unhappy to the end of their lives. Had the lady livedsingle long enough to find out the difference between compliment andsincerity, and that the man who flattered her vanity, meant no more thanto take advantage of her folly, she would have thought herself notunhappy with the very man with whom she was so dissatisfied. 

Lady L---- speaking afterwards of a certain nobleman, who is continuallyrailing against matrimony, and who makes a very indifferent husband to anobliging wife: I have known more men than one, said Sir Charles, inveighagainst matrimony, when the invective would have proceeded with a muchbetter grace from their wives' lips than from theirs. But let usinquire, would this complainer have been, or deserved to be, happier inany state, than he now is?

A state of suffering, said Lady L----, had probably humbled the spirit ofthe poor wife into perfect meekness and patience. 

You observe rightly, replied Sir Charles: And surely a most kinddisposition of Providence it is, that adversity, so painful in itself, should conduce so peculiarly to the improvement of the human mind: Itteaches modesty, humility, and compassion. 

You speak feelingly brother, said Lady L----, with a sigh. Do you think, Lucy, nobody sighed but she?

I do, said he. I speak with a sense of gratitude: I am naturally of animperious spirit: But I have reaped advantages, from the early stroke ofa mother's death. Being for years, against my wishes, obliged to submitto a kind of exile from my native country, which I considered as a heavyevil, though I thought it my duty to acquiesce, I was determined, as muchas my capacity would allow, to make my advantage of the compulsion, byqualifying myself to do credit, rather than discredit, to my father, myfriends, and my country. And, let me add, that if I have in anytolerable manner succeeded, I owe much to the example and precepts of mydear Dr. Bartlett. 

The doctor blushed and bowed, and was going to disclaim the merit whichhis patron had ascribed to him; but Sir Charles confirmed it in stillstronger terms: You, my dear Dr. Bartlett, said he, as I have told MissByron, was a second conscience to me in my earlier youth: Your precepts, your excellent life, your pure manners, your sweetness of temper, couldnot but open and enlarge my mind. The soil, I hope I may say, was notbarren; but you, my dear paternal friend, was the cultivator: I shallever acknowledge it--And he bowed to the good man; who was covered withmodest confusion, and could not look up. 

And think you, Lucy, that this acknowledgment lessened the excellent manwith any one present? No! It raised him in every eye: and I was themore pleased with it, as it helped me to account for that deepobservation, which otherwise one should have been at a loss to accountfor, in so young a man. And yet I am convinced, that there is hardly agreater difference in intellect between angel and man, than there isbetween man and man. 

LETTER XXIII

LADY G----, TO MISS BYRONTHURSDAY, APRIL 13. 

For Heaven's sake, my dearest Harriet! dine with us to-day; for tworeasons: one relates to myself; the other you shall hear by and by: Tomyself, first, as is most fit--This silly creature has offended me, andpresumed to be sullen upon my resentment. Married but two days, and shewhis airs!--Were I in fault, my dear, (which, upon my honour, I am not, )for the man to lose his patience with me, to forget his obligations tome, in two days!--What an ungrateful wretch is he! What a poor powerlesscreature your Charlotte!

Nobody knows of the matter, except he has complained to my brother--If hehas! But what if he has?--Alas! my dear, I am married; and cannot helpmyself. 

We seem, however, to be drawing up our forces on both sides. --Onestruggle for my dying liberty, my dear!--The success of one pitchedbattle will determine which is to be the general, which the subaltern, for the rest of the campaign. To dare to be sullen already!--As I hopeto live, my dear, I was in high good humour within myself; and when hewas foolish, only intended a little play with him; and he takes it inearnest. He worships you: so I shall rally him before you: but I chargeyou, as the man by his sullenness has taken upon him to fight his ownbattle, either to be on my side, or be silent. I shall take it very illof my Harriet, if she strengthen his hands. 

Well, but enough of this husband--HUSBAND! What a word!--Who do youthink is arrived from abroad?--You cannot guess for your life--LadyOLIVIA!--True as you are alive! accompanied, it seems, by an aunt ofhers; a widow, whose years and character are to keep the niece incountenance in this excursion. The pretence is, making the tour ofEurope: and England was not to be left out of the scheme. My brother isexcessively disturbed at her arrival. She came to town but last night. He had notice of it but this morning. He took Emily with him to visither: Emily was known to her at Florence. She and her aunt are to be hereat dinner. As she is come, Sir Charles says, he must bring heracquainted with his sisters, and their lords, in order to be at libertyto pursue the measures he has unalterably resolved upon: and this, Harriet, is my second reason for urging you to dine with us. 

Now I do wish we had known her history at large. Dr. Bartlett shall tellit us. Unwelcome as she is to my brother, I long to see her. I hope Ishall not hear something in her story, that will make me pity her. 

Will you come?

I wonder whether she speaks English, or not. I don't think I canconverse in Italian. 

I won't forgive you, if you refuse to come. 

Lady L---- and her good man will be here. We shall therefore, if youcome, be our whole family together. 

My brother has presented this house to me, till his return. He callshimself Lord G----'s guest and mine: so you can have no punctilio aboutit. Besides, Lord W---- will set out to-morrow morning for Windsor. Hedotes upon you: and perhaps it is in your power to make a new-married manpenitent and polite. 

So you must come. 

Hang me, if I sign by any other name, while this man is in fits, thanthat of

CHARLOTTE GRANDISON. 

LETTER XXIV

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBYTHURSDAY, APRIL 13. 

I send you enclosed a letter I received this morning from Lady G----. Iwill suppose you have read it. 

Emily says, that the meeting between Sir Charles and the lady mentionedin it, was very polite on both sides: but more cold on his than on hers. She made some difficulty, however, of dining at his house; and her aunt, Lady Maffei, more. But on Sir Charles's telling them, that he wouldbring his elder sister to attend them thither, they complied. 

When I went to St. James's-square, Sir Charles and Lady L---- were gonein his coach to bring the two ladies. 

Lady G---- met me on the stairs-head, leading into her dressing-room. Not a word, said she, of the man's sullens: He repents: A fine figure, asI told him, of a bridegroom, would he make in the eyes of foreign ladies, at dinner, were he to retain his gloomy airs. He has begged my pardon;as good as promised amendment; and I have forgiven him. 

Poor Lord G----, said I. 

Hush, hush! He is within: he will hear you: and then perhaps repent ofhis repentance. 

She led me in: my lord had a glow in his cheeks, and looked as if he hadbeen nettled; and was but just recovering a smile, to help to carry offthe petulance. O how saucily did her eyes look! Well, my lord, saidshe, I hope--But you say, I misunderstood--No more, madam, no more, Ibeseech you--

Well, sir, not a word more, since you are--

Pray, madam--

Well, well, give me your hand--You must leave Harriet and me together. 

She humorously courtesied to him as he bowed to me, taking the complimentas to herself. She nodded her head to him, as he turned back his when hewas at the door; and when he was gone, If I can but make this manorderly, said she, I shall not quarrel with my brother for hurrying me, as he has done. 

You are wrong, excessively wrong, Charlotte: you call my lord a sillyman, but can have no proof that he is so, but by his bearing thistreatment from you. 

None of your grave airs, my dear. The man is a good sort of man, andwill be so, if you and Lady L---- don't spoil him. I have a vast deal ofroguery, but no ill-nature, in my heart. There is luxury in jesting witha solemn man, who wants to assume airs of privilege, and thinks he has aright to be impertinent. I'll tell you how I will manage--I believe Ishall often try his patience, and when I am conscious that I have gonetoo far, I will be patient if he is angry with me; so we shall be quits. Then I'll begin again: he will resent: and if I find his aspect verysolemn--Come, come, no glouting, friend, I will say, and perhaps smile inhis face: I'll play you a tune, or sing you a song--Which, which! Speakin a moment, or the humour will be off. 

If he was ready to cry before, he will laugh then, though against hiswill: and as he admires my finger, and my voice, shall we not beinstantly friends?

It signified nothing to rave at her: she will have her way. Poor LordG----! At my first knowledge of her, I thought her very lively; butimagined not that she was indiscreetly so. 

Lord G----'s fondness for his saucy bride was, as I have reason tobelieve, his fault: I dared not to ask for particulars of their quarrel:and if I had, and found it so, could not, with such a rallying creature, have entered into his defence, or censured her. 

I went down a few moments before her. Lord G---- whispered me, that heshould be the happiest man in the world, if I, who had such an influenceover her, would stand his friend. 

I hope, my lord, said I, that you will not want any influence but yourown. She has a thousand good qualities. She has charming spirits. Youwill have nothing to bear with but from them. They will not last always. Think only, that she can mean nothing by the exertion of them, butinnocent gaiety; and she will every day love your lordship the better forbearing with her. You know she is generous and noble. 

I see, madam, said he, she has let you into--

She has not acquainted me with the particulars of the littlemisunderstanding; only has said, that there had been a slight one; whichwas quite made up. 

I am ashamed, replied he, to have it thought by Miss Byron, that therecould have been a misunderstanding between us, especially so early. Sheknows her power over me. I am afraid she despises me. 

Impossible, my lord! Have you not observed, that she spares nobody whenshe is in a lively humour?

True--But here she comes!--Not a word, madam!--I bowed assenting silence. Lord G---- said, she, approaching him, in a low voice, I shall be jealousof your conversations with Miss Byron. 

Would to heaven, my dearest life! snatching at her withdrawn hand, that--

I were half as good as Miss Byron: I understand you: but time andpatience, sir; nodding to him, and passing him. 

Admirable creature! said he, how I adore her!

I hinted to her afterwards, his fear of her despising him. Harriet, answered she, with a serious air, I will do my duty by him. I will abhormy own heart, if I ever find in it the shadow of a regard for any man inthe world, inconsistent with that which he has a right to expect from me. 

I was pleased with her. And found an opportunity to communicate what shesaid, in confidence, to my lord; and had his blessings for it. 

But now for some account of Lady Olivia. With which I will begin a newletter. 

LETTER XXV

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATION

Sir Charles returned with the ladies. He presented to Lady Olivia andher aunt, Lady G----, Lord L----, and Lord W----. I was in anotherapartment talking with Dr. Bartlett. Lady Olivia asked for the doctor. He left me to pay his respects to her. 

Sir Charles being informed, that I was in the house, told Lady Olivia, that he hoped he should have the honour of presenting to her one of ourEnglish beauties; desiring Lady G---- to request my company. 

Lady G---- came to me--A lovely woman, I assure you, Harriet; let me leadyou to her. 

Sir Charles met me at the entrance of the drawing-room: Excuse me, madam, said he, taking my hand, with profound respect, and allow me to introduceto a very amiable Italian lady, one who does so much honour to Britain. --Miss Byron, madam, addressing himself to her, salutes you. Theadvantages of person are her least perfection. 

Her face glowed. Miss Byron, said she, in French, is all loveliness. Arelation, sir? in Italian. 

He bowed; but answered not her question. 

I would sooner forgive you here, whispered Lady Olivia to Sir Charles, inItalian, looking at me, than at Bologna. 

I heard her; and by my confusion shewed that I understood her. She wasin confusion too. 

Mademoiselle, said she, in French, understands Italian. --I am ashamed, monsieur. 

Miss Byron does, answered Sir Charles; and French too. 

I must have the honour, said she in French, to be better known to you, mademoiselle. 

I answered her as politely as I could in the same language. 

Lady OLIVIA is really a lovely woman. Her complexion is fine. Her faceoval. Every feature of it is delicate. Her hair is black; and, I think, I never saw brighter black eyes in my life: if possible, they arebrighter, and shine with a more piercing lustre, than even Sir CharlesGrandison's: but yet I give his the preference; for we see in them abenignity, that hers, though a woman's, has not; and a thoughtfulness, asif something lay upon his mind, which nothing but patience couldovercome; yet mingled with an air that shews him to be equal to anything, that can be undertaken by man. While Olivia's eyes shew more fireand impetuosity than sweetness. Had I not been told it, I should havebeen sure that she has a violent spirit: but on the whole, she is a veryfine figure of a woman. 

She talked of taking a house, and staying in England a year at least; andwas determined, she said, to perfect herself in the language, and tobecome an Englishwoman: but when Sir Charles, in the way of discourse, mentioned his obligation to leave England, as on next Friday morning, howdid she and her aunt look upon each other! And how was the sunshine thatgilded her fine countenance, shut in! Surely, sir, said her aunt, youare not in earnest!

After dinner, the two ladies retired with Sir Charles, at his motion. Dr. Bartlett, at Lady G----'s request, then gave us this short sketch ofher history. He said, she had a vast fortune: she had had indiscretions;but none that had affected her character as to virtue: but her spiritcould not bear control. She had shewn herself to be vindictive, even toa criminal degree. Lord bless me, my dear! the doctor has mentioned tome in confidence, that she always carries a poniard about her; and thatonce she used it. Had the person died, she would have been called topublic account for it. The man, it seems, was of rank, and offered someslight affront to her. She now comes over, the doctor said, as he hadreason to believe, with a resolution to sacrifice even her religion, ifit were insisted upon, to the passion she had so long in vain endeavouredto conquer. 

She has, he says, an utter hatred to Lady Clementina; and will not beable to govern her passion, he is sure, when Sir Charles shall acquainther, that he is going to attend that lady, and her family: for he hasonly mentioned his obligation to go abroad; but not said whither. 

Lord W---- praised the person of the lady, and her majestic air. LordL---- and Lord G---- wished to be within hearing of the conferencebetween her and Sir Charles: so did Lady G----: and while they were thuswishing, in came Sir Charles, his face all in a glow; Lady L----, saidhe, be so good as to attend Lady Olivia. 

She went to her; Sir Charles staid not with us: yet went not to the lady;but into his study. Dr. Bartlett attended him there: the doctor returnedsoon after to us. His noble heart is vexed, said he: Lady Olivia hasgreatly disturbed him: he chooses to be alone. 

Lady L---- afterwards told us, that she found the lady in violent anguishof spirit; her aunt endeavouring to calm her: she, however, politelyaddressed herself to Lady L----, and begging her aunt to withdraw for afew moments, she owned to her, in French, her passion for her brother:She was not, she said, ashamed to own it to his sister, who must knowthat his merit would dignify the passion of the noblest woman. She hadendeavoured, she said, to conquer hers: she had been willing to give wayto the prior attachments that he had pleaded for a lady of her owncountry, Signora Clementina della Porretta, whom she allowed to have hadgreat merit; but who, having irrecoverably been put out of her rightmind, was shut up at Naples by a brother, who vowed eternal enmity to SirCharles; and from whom his life would be in the utmost hazard, if he wentover. She owned, that her chief motive for coming to England was, tocast her fortune at her brother's feet; and, as she knew him to be a manof honour, to comply with any terms he should propose to her. He hadoffered to the family della Porretta to allow their daughter herreligion, and her confessor, and to live with her every other year inItaly. She herself, not inferior in birth, in person, in mind, as shesaid, she presumed, and superior in fortune, the riches of three branchesof her family, all rich, having centred in her, insisted not now uponsuch conditions. Her aunt, she said, knew not that she proposed, onconviction, a change of her religion; but she was resolved not to concealanything from Lady L----. She left her to judge how much she must beaffected, when he declared his obligation to leave England; andespecially when he owned, that it was to go to Bologna, and that sosuddenly, as if, as she apprehended at first, it was to avoid her. Shehad been in tears, she said, and even would have kneeled to him, toinduce him to suspend his journey for one month, and then to have takenher over with him, and seen her safe in her own palace, if he would goupon so hated, and so fruitless, as well as so hazardous an errand: buthe had denied her this poor favour. 

This refusal, she owned, had put her out of all patience. She wasunhappily passionate; but was the most placable of her sex. What, madam, said she, can affect a woman, if slight, indignity, and repulse, from afavoured person, is not able to do it? A woman of my condition to comeover to England, to solicit--how can I support the thought--and to berefused the protection of the man she prefers to all men; and her requestto see her safe back again, though but as the fool she came over!--Youmay blame me, madam--but you must pity me, even were you to have a heartthe sister heart of your inflexible brother. 

In vain did Lady L---- plead to her Lady Clementina's deplorablesituation; the reluctance of his own relations to part with him; and themagnanimity of his self-denial in a hundred instances, on the barepossibility of being an instrument to restore her: she could not bear tohear her speak highly of the unhappy lady. She charged Clementina withthe pride of her family, to which she attributed their deserved calamity;[Deserved! Cruel lady! How could her pitiless heart allow her lips toutter such a word!] and imputed meanness to the noblest of human minds, for yielding to the entreaties of a family, some of the principals ofwhich, she said, had treated him with an arrogance that a man of hisspirit ought not to bear. 

Lady Maffei came in. She seems dependent upon her niece. She is heraunt by marriage only: and Lady L---- speaks very favourably of her fromthe advice she gave, and her remonstrances to her kinswoman. Lady Maffeibesought her to compose herself, and return to the company. 

She could not bear, she said, to return to the company, the slighted, thecontemned object, she must appear to be to every one in it. I am anintruder, said she, haughtily; a beggar, with a fortune that wouldpurchase a sovereignty in some countries. Make my excuses to yoursister, to the rest of the company--and to that fine young lady--whoseeyes, by their officious withdrawing from his, and by the consciousnessthat glowed in her face whenever he addressed her, betrayed, at least toa jealous eye, more than she would wish to have seen--But tell her, thatall lovely and blooming as she is, she must have no hope, whileClementina lives. 

I hope, Lucy, it is only to a jealous eye that my heart is sodiscoverable!--I thank her for her caution. But I can say what shecannot; that from my heart, cost me what it may, I do subscribe to apreference in favour of a lady, who has acted, in the most arduoustrials, in a greater manner than I fear either Olivia or I could haveacted, in the same circumstances. We see that her reason, but not herpiety, deserted her in the noble struggle between her love and herreligion. In the most affecting absences of her reason, the soul of theman she loved was the object of her passion. However hard it is toprefer another to one's self, in such a case as this; yet if my judgmentis convinced, my acknowledgment shall follow it. Heaven will enable meto be reconciled to the event, because I pursue the dictates of thatjudgment, against the biases of my more partial heart. Let that Heaven, which only can, restore Clementina, and dispose as it pleases of Oliviaand Harriet. We cannot either of us, I humbly hope, be so unhappy as thelady has been whom I rank among the first of women; and whose wholefamily deserves almost equal compassion. 

Lady Olivia asked Lady L----, if her brother had not a very tender regardfor me? He had, Lady L---- answered; and told her, that he had rescuedme from a very great distress; and that mine was the most grateful ofhuman hearts. 

She called me sweet young creature; (supposing me, I doubt not, youngerthan I am;) but said, that the graces of my person and mind alarmed hernot, as they would have done, had not his attachment to Clementina beenwhat now she saw, but never could have believed it was; having supposed, that compassion only was the tie that bound him to her. 

But compassion, Lucy, from such a heart as his, the merit so great in thelady, must be love; a love of the nobler kind--And if it were not, itwould be unworthy of Clementina's. 

Lady Maffei called upon her dignity, her birth, to carry her above apassion that met not with a grateful return. She advised her to disposeherself to stay in England some months, now she was here. And as herfriends in Italy would suppose what her view was in coming to England, their censures would be obviated by her continuing here for some time, while Sir Charles was abroad, and in Italy: and that she should divertherself with visiting the court, the public places, and in seeing theprincipal curiosities of this kingdom, as she had done those of others;in order to give credit to an excursion that might otherwise be freelyspoken of, in her own country. 

She seemed to listen to this advice. She bespoke, and was promised, thefriendship of the two sisters; and included in her request, through theirinterests, mine; and Lady G---- was called in, by her sister, to join inthe promise. 

She desired that Sir Charles might be requested to walk in; but would notsuffer the sisters to withdraw, as they would have done, when hereturned. He could not but be polite; but, it seems, looked stilldisturbed. I beg you to excuse, sir, said she, my behaviour to you: itwas passionate; it was unbecoming. But, in compliment to your ownconsequence, you ought to excuse it. I have only to request one favourof you: That you will suspend for one week, in regard to me, yourproposed journey; but for one week; and I will, now I am in England, staysome months; perhaps till your return. 

Excuse me, madam. 

I will not excuse you--But one week, sir. Give me so much importancewith myself, as for one week's suspension. You will. You must. 

Indeed I cannot. My soul, I own to you, is in the distresses of thefamily of Porretta. Why should I repeat what I said to you before?

I have bespoken, sir, the civilities of your sisters, of your family: youforbid them not?

You expect not an answer, madam, to that question. My sisters will beglad, and so will their lords, to attend you wherever you please, with ahope to make England agreeable to you. 

How long do you propose to stay in Italy, sir?

It is not possible for me to determine. 

Are you not apprehensive of danger to your person?

I am not. 

You ought to be. 

No danger shall deter me from doing what I think to be right. If mymotives justify me, I cannot fear. 

Do you wish me, sir, to stay in England till your return?

A question so home put, disturbed him. Was it a prudent one in the lady?It must either subject her to a repulse; or him, by a polite answer, togive her hope, that her stay in England might not be fruitless, as to theview she had in coming. He reddened. It is fit, answered he, that yourown pleasure should determine you. It did, pardon me, madam, in yourjourney hither. 

She reddened to her very ears. Your brother, ladies, has the reputationof being a polite man: bear witness to this instance of it. I am ashamedof myself!

If I am unpolite, madam, my sincerity will be my excuse; at least to myown heart. 

O, that inflexible heart! But, ladies, if the inhospitable Englishmanrefuse his protection in his own country, to a foreign woman, of no meanquality; do not you, his sisters, despise her. 

They, madam, and their lords, will render you every cheerful service. Let me request you, my sisters, to make England as agreeable as possibleto this lady. She is of the first consideration in her own country: shewill be of such wherever she goes. My Lady Maffei deserves likewise yourutmost respect. Then addressing himself to them; Ladies, said he, encourage my sisters: they will think themselves honoured by yourcommands. 

The two sisters confirmed, in an obliging manner, what their brother hadsaid; and both ladies acknowledged themselves indebted to them for theiroffered friendship: but Lady Olivia seemed not at all satisfied withtheir brother: and it was with some difficulty he prevailed on her toreturn to the company, and drink coffee. 

I could not help reflecting, on occasion of this lady's conduct, thatfathers and mothers are great blessings, to daughters, in particular, even when women grown. It is not every woman that will shine in a stateof independency. Great fortunes are snares. If independent women escapethe machinations of men, which they have often a difficulty to do, theywill frequently be hurried by their own imaginations, which are said tobe livelier than those of men, though their judgments are supposed less, into inconveniencies. Had Lady Olivia's parents or uncles lived, shehardly would have been permitted to make the tour of Europe: and nothaving so great a fortune to support vagaries, would have shone, as sheis well qualified to do, in a dependent state, in Italy, and made someworthy man and herself happy. 

Had she a mind great enough to induce her to pity Clementina, I shouldhave been apt to pity her; for I saw her soul was disturbed. I saw thatthe man she loved was not able to return her love: a pitiable case!--Isaw a starting tear now and then with difficulty dispersed. Once sherubbed her eye, and, being conscious of observation, said something hadgot into it: so it had. The something was a tear. Yet she looked withhaughtiness, and her bosom swelled with indignation ill concealed. 

Sir Charles repeated his recommendation of her to Lord L---- and LordG----. They offered their best services: Lord W---- invited her and allof us to Windsor. Different parties of pleasure were talked of: butstill the enlivener of every party was not to be in any one of them. Shetried to look pleased; but did not always succeed in the trial: an eye oflove and anger mingled was often cast upon the man whom everybody loved. Her bosom heaved, as it seemed sometimes, with indignation againstherself: that was the construction which I made of some of her looks. 

Lady Maffei, however, seemed pleased with the parties of pleasure talkedof. She often directed herself to me in Italian. I answered her in itas well as I could. I do not talk it well: but as I am not an Italian, and little more than book-learned in it, (for it is a long time ago sinceI lost my grandpapa, who used to converse with me in it, and in French, )I was not scrupulous to answer in it. To have forborne, because I didnot excel in what I had no opportunity to excel in, would have been falsemodesty, nearly bordering upon pride. Were any lady to laugh at me fornot speaking well her native tongue, I would not return the smile, wereshe to be less perfect in mine, than I am in hers. But Lady Olivia mademe a compliment on my faulty accent, when I acknowledged it to be so. Signora, said she, you shew us, that a pretty mouth can give beauty to adefect. A master teaching you, added she, would perhaps find some fault;but a friend conversing with you, must be in love with you for the veryimperfection. 

Sir Charles was generously pleased with the compliment, and made her afine one on her observation. 

He attended the two ladies to their lodgings in his coach. He owned toDr. Bartlett, that Lady Olivia was in tears all the way, lamenting herdisgrace in coming to England, just as he was quitting it; and wishingshe had stayed at Florence. She would have engaged him to correspondwith her: he excused himself. It was a very afflicting thing to him, hetold the doctor, to deny any request that was made to him, especially bya lady: but he thought he ought in conscience and honour to forbeargiving the shadow of an expectation that might be improved into hope, where none was intended to be given. Heaven, he said, had, for laudableends, implanted such a regard in the sexes towards each other, that bothman and woman who hoped to be innocent, could not be too circumspect inrelation to the friendships they were so ready to contract with eachother. He thought he had gone a great way, in recommending an intimacybetween her and his sisters, considering her views, her spirit, herperseverance, and the free avowal of her regard for him, and her menaceson his supposed neglect of her. And yet, as she had come over, and hewas obliged to leave England so soon after her arrival; he thought hecould not do less: and he hoped his sisters, from whose example she mightbe benefited, would, while she behaved prudently, cultivate heracquaintance. 

The doctor tells me, that now Lady Olivia is so unexpectedly come hitherin person, he thinks it best to decline giving me, as he had onceintended, her history at large; but will leave so much of it as maysatisfy my curiosity, to be gathered from my own observation; and notonly from the violence and haughtiness of her temper, but from thefreedom of her declarations. He is sure, he said, that his patron willbe best pleased, that a veil should be thrown over the weaker part of herconduct; which, were it known, would indeed be glorious to Sir Charles, but not so to the lady; who, however, never was suspected, even by herenemies, of giving any other man reason to tax her with a thought thatwas not strictly virtuous: and she had engaged his pity and esteem, forthe sake of her other fine qualities, though she could not his love. Before she saw him (which, it seems, was at the opera at Florence for thefirst time, when he had an opportunity to pay her some slight civilities)she set all men at defiance. 

To-morrow morning Sir Charles is to breakfast with me. My cousins and Iare to dine at Lord L----'s. The Earl and Lady Gertrude are also to bethere. Lord W---- has been prevailed upon to stay, and be there also, asit is his nephew's last day in England. --'Last day in England!' O, myLucy! what words are those!--Lady L---- has invited Lady Olivia and heraunt, at her own motion, Sir Charles (his time being so short) notdisapproving. 

I thank my grandmamma and aunt for their kind summons. I will soon setmy day: I will, my dear, soon set my day. 

LETTER XXVI

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONFRIDAY NOON, APRIL 14. 

Not five hours in bed; not one hour's rest for many uneasy nights before;I was stupid till Sir Charles came: I then was better. He inquired, withtender looks and voice, after my health; as if he thought I did not lookwell. 

We had some talk about Lord and Lady G----. He was anxious for theirhappiness. He complimented me with hopes from my advice to her. LordG----, he said, was a good-natured honest man. If he thought his sisterwould make him unhappy, he should himself be so. 

I told him, that I dared to answer for her heart. My lord must bear withsome innocent foibles, and all would be well. 

We then talked of Lady Olivia. He began the subject, by asking me myopinion of her. I said she was a very fine woman in her person; and thatshe had an air of grandeur in her mien. 

And she has good qualities, said he; but she is violent in her passions. I am frequently grieved for her. She is a fine creature in danger ofbeing lost, by being made too soon her own mistress. 

He said not one word of his departure to-morrow morning: I could notbegin it; my heart would not let me; my spirits were not high: and I amafraid, if that key had been touched, I should have been too visiblyaffected. My cousins forbore, upon the same apprehension. 

He was excessively tender and soothing to me, in his air, his voice, hismanner. I thought of what Emily said; that his voice, when he spoke ofme, was the voice of love. Dear flattering girl!--But why did sheflatter me?

We talked of her next. He spoke of her with the tenderness of a father. He besought me to love her. He praised her heart. 

Emily, said I, venerates her guardian. She never will do any thingcontrary to his advice. 

She is very young, replied he. She will be happy, madam, in yours. Sheboth loves and reverences you. 

I greatly love the dear Emily, sir. She and I shall be always sisters. 

How happy am I, in your goodness to her! Permit me, madam, to enumerateto you my own felicities in that of my dearest friends. 

Mr. Beauchamp is now in the agreeable situation I have long wished him tobe in. His prudence and obliging behaviour to his mother-in-law, havewon her. His father grants him every thing through her; and she, by thismeans, finds that power enlarged which she was afraid would be lessened, if the son were allowed to come over. How just is this reward of hisfilial duty!

Thus, Lucy, did he give up the merit to his Beauchamp, which was solelydue to himself. 

Lord W----, he hoped, would be soon one of the happiest men in England:and the whole Mansfield family had now fair prospects opening beforethem. 

Emily [not he, you see] had made it the interest of her mother to bequiet. 

Lord and Lady L---- gave him pleasure whenever he saw them, or thought ofthem. 

Dr. Bartlett was in heaven, while on earth. He would retire to hisbeloved Grandison-hall, and employ himself in distributing, as objectsoffered, at least a thousand pounds of the three thousand bequeathed tocharitable uses by his late friend Mr. Danby. His sister's fortune waspaid. His estates in both kingdoms were improving. --See, madam, said he, how like the friend of my soul I claim your attention to affairs that areof consequence to myself; and in some of which your generosity of hearthas interested you. 

I bowed. Had I spoken, I had burst into tears. I had something arose inmy throat, I know not what. Still, thought I, excellent man, you are notyourself happy!--O pity! pity! Yet, Lucy, he plainly had beenenumerating all these things, to take off from my mind that impressionwhich I am afraid he too well knows it is affected with, from hisdifficult situation. 

And now, madam, resumed he, how are all my dear and good friends, whomyou more particularly call yours?--I hope to have the honour of apersonal knowledge of them. When heard you of our good Mr. Deane? He iswell, I hope. 

Very well, Sir. 

Your grandmamma Shirley, that ornament of advanced years?

I bowed: I dared not to trust my voice. 

Your excellent aunt, Selby?

I bowed again. 

Your uncle, your Lucy, your Nancy: Happy family! All harmony! all love!--How do they?

I wiped my eyes. 

Is there any service in my power to do them, or any of them? Command me, good Miss Byron, if there be: my Lord W---- and I are one. Our influenceis not small. --Make me still more happy, in the power of serving any onefavoured by you. 

You oppress me, sir, by your goodness!--I cannot speak my gratefulsensibilities. 

Will you, my dear Mr. Reeves, will you, madam, (to my cousin, ) employ mein any way that I can be of use to you, either abroad or at home? Youracquaintance has given me great pleasure. To what a family of worthieshas this excellent young lady introduced me!

O, sir! said Mrs. Reeves, tears running down her cheeks, that you werenot to leave people whom you have made so happy in the knowledge of thebest of men!

Indispensable calls must be obeyed, my dear Mrs. Reeves. If we cannot beas happy as we wish, we will rejoice in the happiness we can have. Wemust not be our own carvers. --But I make you all serious. I wasenumerating, as I told you, my present felicities: I was rejoicing inyour friendships. I have joy; and, I presume to say, I will have joy. There is a bright side in every event; I will not lose sight of it: andthere is a dark one; but I will endeavour to see it only with the eye ofprudence, that I may not be involved by it at unawares. Who that is notreproached by his own heart, and is blessed with health, can grieve forinevitable evils; evils that can be only evils as we make them so?Forgive my seriousness: my dear friends, you make me grave. Favour me, Ibeseech you, my good Miss Byron, with one lesson: we shall be too muchengaged, perhaps, by and by. 

He led me (I thought it was with a cheerful air; but my cousins both say, his eyes glistened) to the harpsichord: He sung unasked, but with a lowvoice; and my mind was calmed. O, Lucy! How can I part with such a man?How can I take my leave of him?--But perhaps he has taken his leave of mealready, as to the solemnity of it, in the manner I have recited. 

LETTER XXVII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONSATURDAY MORNING, APRIL 15. 

O, Lucy, Sir Charles Grandison is gone! Gone indeed! He set out atthree this morning; on purpose, no doubt, to spare his sisters, andfriends, as well as himself, concern. 

We broke not up till after two. Were I in the writing humour which Ihave never known to fail me till now, I could dwell upon a hundredthings, some of which I can now only briefly mention. 

Dinner-time yesterday passed with tolerable cheerfulness: every one triedto be cheerful. O what pain attends loving too well, and being too wellbeloved! He must have pain, as well as we. 

Lady Olivia was the most thoughtful, at dinnertime; yet poor Emily! Ah, the poor Emily! she went out four or five times to weep; though only Iperceived it. 

Nobody was cheerful after dinner but Sir Charles. He seemed to exerthimself to be so. He prevailed on me to give them a lesson on theharpsichord. Lady L---- played: Lady G---- played: we tried to play, Ishould rather say. He himself took the violin, and afterwards sat downto the harpsichord, for one short lesson. He was not known to be such amaster: but he was long in Italy. Lady Olivia indeed knew him to be so. She was induced to play upon the harpsichord: she surpassed every body. Italy is the land of harmony. 

About seven at night he singled me out, and surprised me greatly by whathe said. He told me, that Lady D---- had made him a visit. I was beforelow: I was then ready to sink. She has asked me questions, madam. 

Sir, sir! was all I could say. 

He himself trembled as he spoke. --Alas! my dear, he surely loves me!Hear how solemnly he spoke--God Almighty be your director, my dear MissByron! I wish not more happiness to my own soul, than I do to you. --Indischarge of a promise made, I mention this visit to you: I mightotherwise have spared you, and myself--

He stopt there--Then resumed; for I was silent. I could not speak--Yourfriends will be entreated for a man that loves you; a very worthy youngnobleman. --I give you emotion, madam. --Forgive me. --I have performed mypromise. He turned from me with a seeming cheerful air. How could heappear to be cheerful!

We made parties at cards. I knew not what I played. Emily sighed, andtears stole down her cheeks, as she played. O how she loves herguardian! Emily, I say--I don't know what I write!

At supper we were all very melancholy. Mr. Beauchamp was urgent to goabroad with him. He changed the subject, and gave him an indirectdenial, as I may call it, by recommending the two Italian ladies to hisbest services. 

Sir Charles, kind, good, excellent! wished to Lord L---- to have seen Mr. Grandison!--unworthy as that man has made himself of his attention. 

He was a few moments in private with Lady Olivia. She returned tocompany with red eyes. 

Poor Emily watched an opportunity to be spoken to by him alone--Sodiligently!--He led her to the window--About one o'clock it was--He heldboth her hands. He called her, she says, his Emily. He charged her towrite to him. 

She could not speak; she could only sob; yet thought she had a thousandthings to say to him. 

He contradicted not the hope his sisters and their lords had of hisbreakfasting with them. They invited me; they invited the Italianladies: Lady L----, Lord L----, did go, in expectation: but Lady G----, when she found him gone, sent me and the Italian ladies word, that hewas. It would have been cruel, if she had not. How could he steal awayso! I find, that he intended that his morning visit to me (as indeed Ihalf-suspected) should be a taking leave of my cousins, and your Harriet. How many things did he say then--How many questions ask--In tender woe--He wanted to do us all service--He seemed not to know what to say--Surelyhe hates not your poor Harriet--What struggles in his noble bosom!--But aman cannot complain: a man cannot ask for compassion, as a woman can. But surely his is the gentlest of manly minds!

When we broke up, he handed my cousin Reeves into her coach. He handedme. Mr. Reeves said, We see you again, Sir Charles, in the morning? Hebowed. At handing me in, he sighed--He pressed my hand--I think he did--That was all--He saluted nobody. He will not meet his Clementina as heparted with us. 

But, I doubt not, Dr. Bartlett was in the secret. 

He was. He has just been here. He found my eyes swelled. I had had norest; yet knew not, till seven o'clock, that he was gone. 

It was very good of the doctor to come: his visit soothed me: yet he tookno notice of my red eyes. Nay, for that matter, Mrs. Reeves's eyes wereswelled, as well as mine. Angel of a man! how is he beloved!

The doctor says, that his sisters, their lords, Lord W----, are in asmuch grief as if he were departed for ever--And who knows--But I will nottorment myself with supposing the worst: I will endeavour to bear in mindwhat he said yesterday morning to us, no doubt for an instruction, thathe would have joy. 

And did he then think that I should be so much grieved as to want such aninstruction?--And, therefore, did he vouchsafe to give it?--But, vanity, be quiet--Lie down, hope--Hopelesness, take place! Clementina shall behis. He shall be hers. 

Yet his emotion, Lucy, at mentioning Lady D----'s visit--O! but that wasonly owing to his humanity. He saw my emotion; and acknowledged thetenderest friendship for me! Ought I not to be satisfied with that? Iam. I will be satisfied. Does he not love me with the love of mind?The poor Olivia has not this to comfort herself with. The poor Olivia!if I see her sad and afflicted, how I shall pity her! All herexpectations frustrated; the expectations that engaged her to combatdifficulties, to travel, to cross many waters, and to come to England--tocome just time enough to take leave of him; he hastening on the wings oflove and compassion to a dearer, a deservedly dearer object, in thecountry she had quitted, on purpose to visit him in his--Is not hers amore grievous situation than mine?--It is. Why, then, do I lament?

But here, Lucy, let me in confidence hint, what I have gathered fromseveral intimations from Dr. Bartlett, though as tenderly made by him aspossible, that had Sir Charles Grandison been a man capable of takingadvantage of the violence of a lady's passion for him, the unhappy Oliviawould not have scrupled, great, haughty, and noble, as she is, by birthand fortune, to have been his, without conditions, if she could not havebeen so with: The Italian world is of this opinion, at least. Had SirCharles been a Rinaldo, Olivia had been an Armida. 

O that I could hope, for the honour of the sex, and of the lady who is sofine a woman, that the Italian world is mistaken!--I will presume that itis. 

My good Dr. Bartlett, will you allow me to accuse you of a virtue toorigorous? That is sometimes the fault of very good people. You own thatSir Charles has not, even to you, revealed a secret so disgraceful toher. You own, that he has only blamed her for having too little regardfor her reputation, and for the violence of her temper: yet howpatiently, for one of such a temper, has she taken his departure, almoston the day of her arrival! He could not have given her an opportunity toindicate to him a concession so criminal: she could not, if he had, havemade the overture. Wicked, wicked world! I will not believe you! Andthe less credit shall you have with me, Italian world, as I have seen thelady. The innocent heart will be a charitable one. Lady Olivia is onlytoo intrepid. Prosperity, as Sir Charles observed, has been a snare toher, and set her above a proper regard to her reputation. --Mercilessworld! I do not love you. Dear Dr. Bartlett, you are not yet absolutelyperfect! These hints of yours against Olivia, gathered from themalevolence of the envious, are proofs (the first indeed that I have metwith) of your imperfection!

Excuse me, Lucy: how have I run on! Disappointment has mortified me, andmade me good-natured. --I will welcome adversity, if it enlarge mycharity. 

The doctor tells me, that Emily, with her half-broken heart, will be herepresently. If I can be of comfort to her--But I want it myself, from thesame cause. We shall only weep over each other. 

As I told you, the doctor, and the doctor only, knew of his setting outso early. He took leave of him. Happy Dr. Bartlett!--Yet I see by hiseyes, that this parting cost him some paternal tears. 

Never father better loved a son than this good man loves Sir CharlesGrandison. 

Sir Charles, it seems, had settled all his affairs three days before. His servants were appointed. 

The doctor tells me, that he had last week presented the elder Mr. Oldhamwith a pair of colours, which he had purchased for him. Nobody had heardof this. 

Lord W----, he says, is preparing for Windsor; Mr. Beauchamp forHampshire, for a few days; and then he returns to attend the commands ofthe noble Italians. 

Lady Olivia will soon have her equipage ready. 

She will make a great appearance. --But Sir Charles Grandison will not bewith her. What is grandeur to a disturbed heart?

The Earl of G---- and Lady Gertrude are setting out for Hertfordshire. Lord and Lady L---- talk of retiring, for a few weeks, to Colnebrook: theDoctor is preparing for Grandison-hall; your poor Harriet forNorthamptonshire--Bless me, my dear, what a dispersion!--But Lord W----'snuptials will collect some of them together at Windsor. 

***

Emily, the dear weeping girl! is just come. She is with my cousins. Sheexpects my permission for coming up to me. Imagine us weeping over eachother; praying for, blessing the guardian of us both. Your imaginationcannot form a scene too tender. 

Adieu, my Lucy. 

LETTER XXVIII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONSUNDAY, APRIL 16. 

O, what a blank, my dear!--but I need not say what I was going to say. Poor Emily!--But, to mention her grief, is to paint my own. 

Lord W---- went to Windsor yesterday. 

A very odd behaviour of Lady Olivia. Mr. Beauchamp went yesterday, andoffered to attend her to any of the public places, at her pleasure; inpursuance of Sir Charles's reference to him, to do all in his power tomake England agreeable to her: and she thought fit to tell him before heraunt, that she thanked him for his civility; but she should not troublehim during her stay in England. She had gentlemen in her train; and oneof them had been in England before--

He left her in disgust. 

Lady L---- making her a visit in the evening, she told her of Mr. Beauchamp's offer, and of her answer. The gentleman, said she, is apolite and very agreeable man; and this made me treat his kind offer withabruptness: for I can hardly doubt your brother's view in it. I scornhis view: and if I were sure of it, perhaps I should find a way to makehim repent of the indignity. Lady L---- was sure, she said, that neitherher brother, nor Mr. Beauchamp, had any other views than to make Englandas agreeable to her as possible. 

Be this as it may, madam, said she, I have no service for Mr. Beauchamp:but if your Ladyship, your sister, and your two lords, will allow me tocultivate your friendship, you will do me honour. Dr. Bartlett's companywill be very agreeable to me likewise, as often as he will give it me. To Miss Jervois I lay some little claim. I would have had her for mycompanion in Italy; but your cruel brother--No more, however, of him. Your English beauty too, I admire her: but, poor young creature, I admireher the more, because I can pity her. I should think myself very happyto be better acquainted with her. 

Lady L---- made her a very polite answer for herself and her sister, andtheir lords: but told her, that I was very soon to set out for my ownabode in Northamptonshire; and that Dr. Bartlett had some commissions, which would oblige him, in a day or two, to go to Sir Charles's seat inthe country. She herself offered to attend her to Windsor, and to everyother place, at her command. 

Lady L---- took notice of her wrist being bound round with a broad blackribband, and asked, If it were hurt? A kind of sprain, said she. Butyou little imagine how it came; and must not ask. 

This made Lady L---- curious. And Olivia requesting that Emily might beallowed to breakfast with her as this morning; she has bid the dear girlendeavour to know how it came, if it fell in her way: for Oliviareddened, and looked up, with a kind of consciousness, to Lady L----, when she told her that she must not ask questions about it. 

Lady G---- is very earnest with me to give into the town diversions for amonth to come: but I have now no desire in my heart so strong, as tothrow myself at the feet of my grandmamma and aunt; and to be embraced bymy Lucy and Nancy, and all my Northamptonshire friends. 

I am only afraid of my uncle. He will rally his Harriet; yet only, Iknow, in hopes to divert her, and us all: but my jesting days are over:my situation will not bear it. Yet if it will divert himself, let himrally. 

I shall be so much importuned to stay longer than I ought, or will stay, that I may as well fix a peremptory day at once. Will you, my everindulgent friends, allow me to set out for Selby-house on Fridaynext? Not on a Sunday, as Lady Betty Williams advises, for fear of theodious waggons. But I have been in a different school. Sir CharlesGrandison, I find, makes it a tacit rule with him, Never to begin ajourney on a Sunday; nor, except when in pursuit of works of mercy ornecessity, to travel in time of divine service. And this rule heobserved last Sunday, though he reached us here in the evening. O mygrandmamma! How much is he, what you all are, and ever have been!--Buthe is now pursuing a work of mercy. God succeed to him the end of hispursuit!

But why tacit? you will ask. Is Sir Charles Grandison ashamed to make anopen appearance in behalf of his Christian duties? He is not. Forinstance; I have never seen him sit down at his own table, in the absenceof Dr. Bartlett, or some other clergyman, but he himself says grace; andthat with such an easy dignity, as commands every one's reverence; andwhich is succeeded by a cheerfulness that looks as if he were the betterpleased for having shewn a thankful heart. 

Dr. Bartlett has also told me, that he begins and ends every day, eitherin his chamber, or in his study, in a manner worthy of one who is inearnest in his Christian profession. But he never frights gay companywith grave maxims. I remember, one day, Mr. Grandison asked him, in hisabsurd way, Why he did not preach to his company now and then? Faith, Sir Charles, said he, if you did, you would reform many a poor ignorantsinner of us; since you could do it with more weight, and more certaintyof attention, than any parson in Christendom. 

It would be an affront, said Sir Charles, to the understanding, as wellas education, of a man who took rank above a peasant, in such a countryas this, to seem to question whether he knew his general duties, or not, and the necessity of practising what he knew of them. If he should be ata loss, he may once a week be reminded, and his heart kept warm. Let youand me, cousin Everard, shew our conviction by our practice; and notinvade the clergyman's province. 

I remember that Mr. Grandison shewed his conviction by his blushes; andby repeating the three little words, You and me! Sir Charles. 

***

SUNDAY EVENING. 

O my dear friends! I have a strange, a shocking piece of intelligence togive you! Emily has just been with me in tears: she begged to speak withme in private. When we were alone, she threw her arms about my neck: Ah, madam! said she, I am come to tell you, that there is a person in theworld that I hate, and must and will hate, as long as I live. It is LadyOlivia. --Take me down with you into Northamptonshire, and never let mesee her more. 

I was surprised. 

O madam! I have found out, that she would, on Thursday last, have killedmy guardian. 

I was astonished, Lucy. 

They retired together, you know, madam: my guardian came from her, hisface in a glow; and he sent in his sister to her, and went not in himselftill afterwards. She would have had him put off his journey. She wasenraged because he would not; and they were high together; and, at last, she pulled out of her stays, in fury, a poniard, and vowed to plunge itinto his heart. He should never, she said, see his Clementina more. Hewent to her. Her heart failed her. Well it might, you know, madam. Heseized her hand. He took it from her. She struggled, and in strugglingher wrist was hurt; that's the meaning of the broad black ribband!--Wicked creature! to have such a thought in her heart!--He only said, whenhe had got it from her, Unhappy, violent woman! I return not thisinstrument of mischief! You will have no use for it in England--Andwould not let her have it again. 

I shuddered. O my dear, said I, he has been a sufferer, we are told, bygood women; but this is not a good woman. But can it be true? Whoinformed you of it?

Lady Maffei herself. She thought that Sir Charles must have spoken ofit: and when she found he had not, she was sorry she had, and begged Iwould not tell any body: but I could not keep it from you. And she says, that Lady Olivia is grieved on the remembrance of it; and arraignsherself and her wicked passion; and the more, for his noble forgivenessof her on the spot, and recommending her afterwards to the civilities ofhis sisters, and their lords. But I hate her, for all that. 

Poor unhappy Olivia! said I. But what, my Emily, are we women, whoshould be the meekest and tenderest of the whole animal creation, when wegive way to passion! But if she is so penitent, let not the shockingattempt be known to his sisters, or their lords. I may take the libertyof mentioning it, in strict confidence, [observe that, Lucy, ] to thosefrom whom I keep not any secret: but let it not be divulged to any of therelations of Sir Charles. Their detestation of her, which must follow, would not be concealed; and the unhappy creature, made desperate, might--Who knows what she might do?

The dear girl ran on upon what might have been the consequence, and whata loss the world would have had, if the horrid fact had been perpetrated. Lady Maffei told her, however, that had not her heart relented, she mighthave done him mischief; for he was too rash in approaching her. She felldown on her knees to him, as soon as he had wrested the poniard from her. I forgive, and pity you, madam, said he, with an air that had, as Oliviaand her aunt have recollected since, both majesty and compassion in it:but, against her entreaty, he would withdraw: yet, at her request, sentin Lady L---- to her; and, going into his study, told not even Dr. Bartlett of it, though he went to him there immediately. 

From the consciousness of this violence, perhaps, the lady was moretemperate afterwards, even to the very time of his departure. 

***

Lord bless me, what shall I do? Lady D---- has sent a card to let meknow, that she will wait upon Mrs. Reeves and me to-marrow to breakfast. She comes, no doubt, to tell me, that Sir Charles having no thoughts ofHarriet Byron, Lord D---- may have hopes of succeeding with her: and, perhaps, her ladyship will plead Sir Charles's recommendation andinterest in Lord D----'s favour. But should this plea be made, goodHeaven give me patience! I am afraid I shall be uncivil to thisexcellent woman. 

LETTER XXIX

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONMONDAY, APRIL 17. 

The countess is just gone. 

Mr. Reeves was engaged before to breakfast with Lady Betty Williams; andwe were only Mrs. Reeves, Lady D----, and I. 

My heart ached at her entrance; and every moment still more, as we wereat breakfast. Her looks, I thought, had such particular kindness andmeaning in them, as seemed to express, 'You have no hopes, Miss Byron, any where else; and I will have you to be mine. '

But my suspense was over the moment the tea-table was removed. I seeyour confusion, my dear, said the countess: [Mrs. Reeves, you must notleave us;] and I have sat in pain for you, as I saw it increase. By thisI know that Sir Charles Grandison has been as good as his word. Indeed Idoubted not but he would. I don't wonder, my dear, that you love him. He is the finest man in his manners, as well as person, that I ever saw. A woman of virtue and honour cannot but love him. But I need not praisehim to you; nor to you, neither, Mrs. Reeves; I see that. Now you mustknow, proceeded she, that there is an alliance proposed for my son, ofwhich I think very well; but still should have thought better, had Inever seen you, my dear. I have talked to my lord about it: you know Iam very desirous to have him married. His answer was; I never can thinkof any proposal of this nature, while I have any hope that I can makemyself acceptable to Miss Byron. 

What think you, my lord, said I, if I should directly apply to SirCharles Grandison, to know his intentions; and whether he has any hopesof obtaining her favour? He is said to be the most unreserved of men. He knows our characters to be as unexceptionable as his own; and that ouralliance cannot be thought a discredit to the first family in thekingdom. It is a free question, I own; as I am unacquainted with him byperson: but he is such a man, that methinks I can take pleasure inaddressing myself to him on any subject. 

My lord smiled at the freedom of my motion; but, not disapproving it, Idirectly went to Sir Charles; and, after due compliments, told him mybusiness. 

The countess stopt. She is very penetrating. She looked at us both. 

Well, madam, said my cousin, with an air of curiosity--Pray, yourladyship--

I could not speak for very impatience--

I never heard in my life, said the countess, such a fine character of anymortal, as he gave you. He told me of his engagements to go abroad asthe very next day. He highly extolled the lady for whose sake, principally, he was obliged to go abroad; and he spoke as highly of abrother of hers, whom he loved as if he were his own brother; andmentioned very affectionately the young lady's whole family. 

'God only knows, ' said he, 'what may be my destiny!--As generosity, asjustice, or rather as Providence, leads, I will follow. '

After he had generously opened his heart, proceeded the countess, I askedhim, If he had any hope, should the foreign lady recover her health, ofher being his?

'I can promise myself nothing, ' said he. 'I go over without one selfishhope. If the lady recover her health, and her brother can be amended inhis, by the assistance I shall carry over with me, I shall have joyinexpressible. To Providence I leave the rest. The result cannot be inmy own power. '

Then, sir, proceeded the countess, you cannot in honour be under anyengagements to Miss Byron?

I arose from my seat. Whither, my dear?--I have done, if I oppress you. I moved my chair behind hers, but so close to hers, that I leaned on theback of it, my face hid, and my eyes running over. She stood up. Sitdown again, madam, said I, and proceed--Pray proceed. You have excitedmy curiosity. Only let me sit here, unheeded, behind you. 

Pray, madam, said Mrs. Reeves, (burning also with curiosity, as she hassince owned, ) go on; and indulge my cousin in her present seat. Whatanswer did Sir Charles return?

My dear love, said the countess, (sitting down, as I had requested, ) letme first be answered one question. I would not do mischief. 

You cannot do mischief, madam, replied I. What is your ladyship'squestion?

Has Sir Charles Grandison ever directly made his addresses to you, mydear?

Never, madam. 

It is not for want of love, I dare aver, that he has not. But thus heanswered my question: 'I should have thought myself the unworthiest ofmen, knowing the difficulties of my own situation, how great soever werethe temptation from Miss Byron's merit if I had sought to engage heraffections. '

[O, Lucy! How nobly is his whole conduct towards me justified!]

'She has, madam, ' (proceeded the countess, in his words, ) 'a prudencethat I never knew equalled in a woman so young. With a frankness ofmind, to which hardly ever young lady before her had pretensions, she hassuch a command of her affections, that no man, I dare say, will ever havea share in them, till he has courted her favour by assiduities whichshall convince her that he has no heart but for her. '

O my Lucy! What an honour to me would these sentiments be, if I deservedthem! And can Sir Charles Grandison think I do?--I hope so. But if hedoes, how much am I indebted to his favourable, his generous opinion!Who knows but I have reason to rejoice, rather than to regret, as I usedto do, his frequent absences from Colnebrook?

The countess proceeded. 

Then, sir, you will not take it amiss, if my son, by his assiduities, canprevail upon Miss Byron to think that he has merit, and that his heart iswholly devoted to her. 

'Amiss, madam!--No!--In justice, in honour, I cannot. May Miss Byron be, as she deserves to be, one of the happiest women on earth in hernuptials. I have heard a great character of Lord D----. He has a verylarge estate. He may boast of his mother--God forbid, that I, a mandivided in myself, not knowing what I can do, hardly sometimes what Iought to do, should seek to involve in my own uncertainties the friend Irevere; the woman I so greatly admire: her beauty so attracting; soproper therefore for her to engage a generous protector in the marriedstate. '

Generous man! thought I. O how my tears ran down my cheeks, as I hid myface behind the countess's chair!

But will you allow me, sir, proceeded the countess, to ask you, were youfreed from all your uncertainties--

'Permit me, madam, ' interrupted he, 'to spare you the question you weregoing to put. As I know not what will be the result of my journeyabroad, I should think myself a very selfish man, and a verydishonourable one to two ladies of equal delicacy and worthiness, if Isought to involve, as I hinted before, in my own uncertainties, a younglady whose prudence and great qualities must make herself and any manhappy, whom she shall favour with her hand. 

'To be still more explicit, ' proceeded he, With what face could I look upto a woman of honour and delicacy, such a one as the lady before whom Inow stand, if I could own a wish, that, while my honour has laid me underobligation to one lady, if she shall be permitted to accept of me, Ishould presume to hope, that another, no less worthy, would hold herfavour for me suspended, till she saw what would be the issue of thefirst obligation? No, madam; I could sooner die, than offer suchindignity to both! I am fettered, added he; but Miss Byron is free: andso is the lady abroad. My attendance on her at this time, isindispensable; but I make not any conditions for myself--My reward willbe in the consciousness of having discharged the obligations that I thinkmyself under, as a man of honour. '

The countess's voice changed in repeating this speech of his: and shestopt to praise him; and then went on. 

You are THE man, indeed, sir!--But then give me leave to ask you, as Ithink it very likely that you will be married before your return toEngland, Whether, now that you have been so good as to speak favourablyof my son, and that you call Miss Byron sister, you will oblige him witha recommendation to that sister?

'The Countess of D---- shews, by this request, her value for a young ladywho deserves it; and the more, for its being, I think, (excuse me, madam)a pretty extraordinary one. But what a presumption would it be in me, tosuppose that I had SUCH an interest with Miss Byron, when she hasrelations as worthy of her, as she is of them?'

You may guess, my dear, said the countess, that I should not have putthis question, but as a trial of his heart. However, I asked his pardon;and told him, that I would not believe he gave it me, except he wouldpromise to mention to Miss Byron, that I had made him a visit on thissubject. [Methinks, Lucy, I should have been glad that he had not let meknow that he was so forgiving!]

And now, my dear, said the lady, let me turn about. She did; and put onearm round my neck, and with my own handkerchief wiped my eyes, and kissedmy cheek; and when she saw me a little recovered, she addressed me asfollows:

Now, my good young creature, [O that you would let me call you daughterin my way! for I think I must always call you so, whether you do, or not]let me ask you, as if I were your real mother, 'Have you any expectationthat Sir Charles Grandison will be yours?'

Dear madam, is not this as hard a question to be put to me, as that whichyou put to him?

Yes, my dear--full as hard. And I am as ready to ask your pardon, as Iwas his, if you are really displeased with me for putting it. Are you, Miss Byron? Excuse me, Mrs. Reeves, for thus urging your lovely cousin:I am at least entitled to the excuse Sir Charles Grandison made for me, that it is a demonstration of my value for her. 

I have declared, madam, returned I, and it is from my heart, that I thinkhe ought to be the husband of the lady abroad: and though I prefer him toall the men I ever saw, yet I have resolved, if possible, to conquer theparticular regard I have for him. He has in a very noble manner offeredme his friendship, so long as it may be accepted without interfering withany other attachments on my part: and I will be satisfied with that. 

A friendship so pure, replied the countess, as that of such a man, isconsistent with any other attachments. My Lord D---- will, with hiswhole soul, contribute all in his power to strengthen it: he admires SirCharles Grandison: he would think it a double honour to be acquaintedwith him through you. Dearest Miss Byron, take another worthy young maninto your friendship, but with a tenderer name: I shall then claim afourth place in it for myself. O my dear! What a quadruple knot willyou tie!

Your ladyship does me too much honour, was all I could just then reply. 

I must have an answer, my dear: I will not take up with a compliment. 

This, then, madam, is my answer--I hope I am an honest creature: I havenot a heart to give. 

Then you have expectations, my dear. --Well, I will call you mine, if Ican. Never did I think that I could have made the proposal, that I amgoing to make you: but in my eyes, as well as in my lord's, you are anincomparable young woman. --This is it. --We will not think of the allianceproposed to us (it is yet but a proposal, and to which we have notreturned any answer) till we see what turn the affair Sir Charles is goneupon, takes. You once said, you could prefer my son to any of the menthat had hitherto applied to you for your favour. Your affections to SirCharles were engaged before you knew us. Will you allow my son thispreference, which will be the first preference, if Sir Charles engageshimself abroad?

Your ladyship surprises me: shall I not improve by the example you havejust now set before me? Who was it that said (and a man too) 'With whatface could I look up to a woman of honour and delicacy, such a one as thelady before whom I now stand, if I could own a wish, that, while' myheart leaned to one person, I should think of keeping another in suspensetill I saw whether I could or could not be the other's? 'No, madam, Iwould sooner die, ' as Sir Charles said, 'than offer such an indignity toboth. ' But I know, madam, that you only made this proposal, as you didanother to Sir Charles Grandison, as a trial of my heart. 

Upon my word, my dear, I should, I think, be glad to be entitled to suchan excuse: but I was really in earnest; and now take a little shame tomyself. 

What charming ingenuousness in this lady!

She clasped her arms about me, and kissed my cheek again. I have but oneplea, said she, to make for myself; I could not have fallen into such anerror, (the example so recently given to the contrary, ) had I not wishedyou to be, before any woman in the world, Countess of D----. Noblecreature! No title can give you dignity. May your own wishes begranted!

My cousin's eyes ran over with pleasure. 

The countess asked, When I returned to Northamptonshire? I told her myintention. She charged me to see her first. But can tell you, said she, my lord shall not be present when you come: not once more will I trusthim in your company; and if he should steal a visit, unknown to me, letnot your cousin see him, Mrs. Reeves. He does indeed admire you, love. 

I acknowledged, with a grateful heart, her goodness to me. She engagedme to correspond with her when I got home. Her commands were an honourdone me, that I could not refuse myself. Her son, she smilingly told me, should no more see my letters, than my person. 

At her going away--I will tell you one thing, said she: I never before, in a business which my heart was set upon, was so effectually silenced bya precedent produced by myself in the same conversation. I came with anassurance of success. When our hearts are engaged in a hope, we are aptto think every step we take for the promoting it, reasonable: Ourpassions, my dear, will evermore run away with our judgment. But, now Ithink of it, I must, when I say our, make two exceptions; one for you, and one for Sir Charles Grandison. 

But, Lucy, tell me--May I, do you think, explain the meaning of the wordSELFISH used by Sir Charles in the conclusion of the library conferenceat Colnebrook, (and which puzzled me then to make out, ) by hisdisclaiming of selfishness in the conversation with the countess aboverecited? If I may, what an opening of his heart does that word give inmy favour, were he at liberty? Does it not look, my dear, as if hishonour checked him, when his love would have prompted him to wish me topreserve my heart disengaged till his return from abroad? Nor let it besaid, that it was dishonourable in him to have such a thought, as it waschecked and overcome; and as it was succeeded by such an emotion, that hewas obliged to depart abruptly from me. --Let me repeat the words--You maynot have my letter at hand which relates that affecting address to me;and it is impossible for me, while I have memory, to forget them. He hadjust concluded his brief history of Clementina--'And now, madam, what canI say?--Honour forbids me!--Yet honour bids me--Yet I cannot be unjust, ungenerous, selfish!'--If I may flatter myself, Lucy, that he did love mewhen he said this, and that he had a conflict in his noble heart betweenthe love on one side so hopeless, (for I could not forgive him, if he didnot love, as well as pity, Clementina, ) and on the other not so hopeless, were there to have been no bar between--Shall we not pity him for thearduous struggle? Shall we not see that honour carried it, even infavour of the hopeless against the hopeful, and applaud him the more forbeing able to overcome? How shall we call virtue by its name, if it benot tried; and if it hath no contest with inclination?

If I am a vain self-flatterer, tell me, chide me, Lucy; but allow me, however, at the same time, this praise, if I can make good my claim toit, that my conquest of my passion is at least as glorious for me, as hisis for him, were he to love me ever so well; since I can most sincerely, however painfully, subscribe to the preference which honour, love, compassion, unitedly, give to CLEMENTINA. 

LETTER XXX

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONMONDAY NIGHT. 

My cousins and I, by invitation, supped with Lady G---- this evening. Lord and Lady L---- were there; Lady Olivia also, and Lady Maffei. 

I have set them all into a consternation, as they expressed themselves, by my declaration of leaving London on my return home early on Fridaymorning next. I knew, that were I to pass the whole summer here, I mustbe peremptory at last. The two sisters vow, that I shall not go so soon. They say, that I have seen so few of the town diversions--Towndiversions, Lucy!--I have had diversion enough, of one sort!--But in yourarms, my dear friends, I shall have consolation--And I want it. 

I have great regrets, and shall have hourly more, as the day approaches, on the leaving of such dear and obliging friends: but I am determined. 

My cousin's coach will convey me to Dunstable; and there, I know, I shallmeet with my indulgent uncle, or your brother. I would not have itpublicly known, because of the officious gentlemen in the neighbourhood. 

Dr. Bartlett intended to set out for Grandison-hall to-morrow: but fromthe natural kindness of his heart he has suspended his journey toThursday next. No consideration, therefore, shall detain me, if I amwell. 

My cousins are grieved: they did not expect that I would be a word and ablow, as they phrase it. 

Lady Olivia expressed herself concerned, that she, in particular, was tolose me. She had proposed great pleasure, she said, in the parties sheshould make in my company. But, after what Emily told me, she appears tome as a Medusa; and were I to be thought by her a formidable rival, Imight have as much reason to be afraid of the potion, as the man sheloves of the poniard. Emily has kept the secret from every body but me. And I rely on the inviolable secrecy of all you, my friends. 

Lord and Lady L---- had designed to go to Colnebrook to-morrow, or at myday, having hopes of getting me with them: but now, they say, they willstay in town till they can see whether I am to be prevailed upon, or willbe obdurate. 

Lady Olivia inquired after the distance of Northamptonshire. She willmake the tour of England, she says, and visit me there. I was obliged tosay I should take her visit as an honour. 

Wicked politeness! Of how many falsehoods dost thou make the people, whoare called polite, guilty!

But there is one man in the world, who is remarkable for his truth, yetis unquestionably polite. He censures not others for complying withfashions established by custom; but he gives not in to them. He neverperverts the meaning of words. He never, for instance, suffers hisservants to deny him, when he is at home. If he is busy, he just findstime to say he is, to unexpected visiters; and if they will stay, heturns them over to his sisters, to Dr. Bartlett, to Emily, till he canattend them. But then he has always done so. Every one knows that helives to his own heart, and they expect it of him; and when they can havehis company, they have double joy in the ease and cheerfulness thatattend his leisure: they then have him wholly. And he can be the morepolite, as the company then is all his business. 

Sir Charles might the better do so, as he came over so few months ago, after so long an absence; and his reputation for politeness was so wellestablished, that people rather looked for rules from him, than aconformity to theirs. 

His denials of complimenting Lady Olivia (though she was but just arrivedin his native country, where she never was before) with the suspending ofhis departure for one week, or but for one day--Who but he could havegiven them? But he was convinced, that it was right to hasten away, forthe sake of Clementina and his Jeronymo; and that it would have beenwrong to shew Olivia, even for her own sake, that in such a competitionshe had consequence with him; and all her entreaties, all her menaces, the detested poniard in her hand, could not shake his steady soul, andmake him delay his well-settled purpose. 

LETTER XXXI

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONTUESDAY MORNING, APRIL 18. 

This naughty Lady G----! She is excessively to blame. Lord L---- is outof patience with her. So is Lady L----. Emily says, she loves herdearly; but she does not love her ways. Lord G----, as Emily tells me, talks of coming to me; the cause of quarrel supposed to be not great: buttrifles, insisted upon, make frequently the widest breaches. Whatever itbe, it is between themselves: and neither cares to tell: but Lord andLady L---- are angry with her, for the ludicrous manner in which shetreats him. 

The misunderstanding happened after my cousin and I left them last night. I was not in spirits, and declined staying to cards. Lady Olivia and heraunt went away at the same time. Whist was the game. Lord and LadyL----, Dr. Bartlett and Emily, were cast in. In the midst of their play, Lady G---- came hurrying down stairs to them, warbling an air. LordG---- followed her, much disturbed. Madam, I must tell you, said he--WhyMUST, my lord? I don't bid you. 

Sit still, child, said she to Emily; and took her seat behind her--Whowins? Who loses?

Lord G---- walked about the room--Lord and Lady L---- were unwilling totake notice, hoping it would go off; for there had been a fewlivelinesses on her side at dinner-time, though all was serene at supper. 

Dr. Bartlett offered her his cards. She refused them--No, doctor, saidshe, I will play my own cards: I shall have enough to do to play themwell. 

As you manage it, so you will, madam, said Lord G----. 

Don't expose yourself, my lord: we are before company. Lady L----, youhave nothing but trumps in your hand. 

Let me say a word or two to you, madam, said Lord G---- to her. 

I am all obedience, my lord. 

She arose. He would have taken her hand: she put it behind her. 

Not your hand, madam?

I can't spare it. 

He flung from her, and went out of the room. 

Lord bless me, said she, returning to the card-table with a gayunconcern, what strange passionate creatures are these men!

Charlotte, said Lady L----, I wonder at you. 

Then I give you joy--

What do you mean, sister?--

We women love wonder, and the wonderful!

Surely, Lady G----, said Lord L----, you are wrong. 

I give your lordship joy, too. 

On what?

That my sister is always right. 

Indeed, madam, were I Lord G----, I should have no patience. 

A good hint for you, Lady L----. I hope you will take this for awarning, and be good. 

When I behave as you do, Charlotte--

I understand you, Lady L----, you need not speak out--Every one in theirway. 

You would not behave thus, were my brother--

Perhaps not. 

Dear Charlotte, you are excessively wrong. 

So I think, returned she. 

Why then do you not--

Mend, Lady L----? All in good time. 

Her woman came in with a message, expressing her lord's desire to seeher. --The deuce is in these men! They will neither be satisfied with us, nor without us. But I am all obedience: no vow will I break--And out shewent. 

Lord G---- not returning presently, and Lord and Lady L----'s chariotbeing come, they both took this opportunity, in order to shew theirdispleasure, to go away without taking leave of their sister. Dr. Bartlett retired to his apartment. And when Lady G---- came down, shewas surprised, and a little vexed, to find only Emily there. Lord G----came in at another door--Upon my word, my Lord, this is strange behaviourin you: you fright away, with your husband-like airs, all one's company. 

Good God!--I am astonished at you, madam. 

What signifies your astonishment?--when you have scared every body out ofthe house. 

I, madam!

You, sir! Yes, you!--Did you not lord it over me in my dressing-room?--To be easy and quiet, did I not fly to our company in the drawing-room?Did you not follow me there--with looks--very pretty looks for anew-married man, I assure you! Then did you not want to take me aside--Would not anybody have supposed it was to express your sorrow for yourodd behaviour? Was I not all obedience?--Did you not, with very mannishairs, slight me for my compliance, and fly out of the room? All thecompany could witness the calmness with which I returned to them, thatthey might not be grieved for me; nor think our misunderstanding a deepone. Well, then, when your stomach came down, as I supposed, you sentfor me out: no doubt, thought I, to express his concern now. --I was allobedience again. 

And did I not beseech you, madam--

Beseech me, my lord!--Yes--But with such looks!--I married, sir, let metell you, a man with another face--See, see, Emily--He is gone again. --

My lord flew out of the room in a rage. --O these men, my dear! said sheto Emily. 

I know, said Emily, what I could have answered, if I dared: but it is illmeddling, as I have heard say, between man and wife. 

Emily says, the quarrel was not made up; but was carried higher still inthe morning. 

She had but just finished her tale, when the following billet was broughtme, from Lady G----:

***

TUESDAY MORNING. 

Harriet, If you love me, if you pity me, come hither this instant: I have greatneed of your counsel. I am resolved to be unmarried; and thereforesubscribe myself by the beloved name of

CHARLOTTE GRANDISON. 

***

I instantly dispatched the following:

I Know no such person as Charlotte Grandison. I love Lady G----, but canpity only her lord. I will not come near you. I have no counsel to giveyou, but that you will not jest away your own happiness. 

HARRIET BYRON. 

***

In half an hour after, came a servant from Lady G---- with the followingletter:

So, then, I have made a blessed hand of wedlock. My brother gone: my manexcessive unruly: Lord and Lady L---- on his side, without inquiring intomerits, or demerits: lectured by Dr. Bartlett's grave face: Emilystanding aloof; her finger in her eye: and now my Harriet renouncing me:and all in one week!

What can I do?--War seems to be declared: and will you not turnmediatrix?--You won't, you say. Let it alone. Nevertheless, I will laythe whole matter before you. 

It was last night, the week from the wedding-day not completed, that LordG---- thought fit to break into my retirement without my leave--By theway, he was a little impertinent at dinner-time; but that I passedover--

What boldness is this? said I--Pray, Sir, begone--Why leave you yourcompany below?

I come, my dearest life! to make a request to you. 

The man began with civility enough, had he had a little less of hisodious rapture; for he flung his arms about me, Jenny in presence. Ahusband's fondness is enough to ruin these girls. Don't you think, Harriet, that there is an immorality in it, before them?

I refuse your request, be it what it will. How dare you invade me in myretirement?--You may believe, that I intended not to stay long above, mysister below. Does the ceremony, so lately past, authorize want ofbreeding?

Want of breeding, madam!--And he did so stare!

Leave me, this instant!--I looked good-natured, I suppose, in my anger;for he declared he would not; and again throwing his arms about me as Isat, joined his sharp face to mine, and presumed to kiss me; Jenny stillin the room. 

Now, Harriet, you never will desert me in a point of delicacy, I am sure. You cannot defend these odious freedoms in a matrimony so young, unlessyou would be willing to be served so yourself. 

You may suppose, that then I let loose my indignation upon him. And hestole out, daring to mutter, and be displeased. The word devil was inhis mouth. 

Did he call me devil, Jenny?

No, indeed, madam, said the wench--And, Harriet, see the ill example ofsuch a free behaviour before her: she presumed to prate in favour of theman's fit of fondness; yet, at other times, is a prude of a girl. 

Before my anger was gone down, in again [It is truth, Harriet, ] came thebold wretch. I will not, said he, as you are not particularly employed, leave you--Upon my soul, madam, you don't use me well. But if you willoblige me with your company tomorrow morning--

No where, Sir--

Only to breakfast with Miss Byron, my dear--As a mark of yourobligingness, I request it. 

His dear!--Now I hate a hypocrite, of all things. I knew that he had adesign to make a shew of his bride, as his property, at another place;and seeing me angry, thought he would name a visit agreeable to me, andwhich at the same time would give him a merit with you, and preserve tohimself the consequence of being obliged by his obedient wife, at theword of authority. 

From this foolish beginning arose our mighty quarrel. What vexed me was, the art of the man, and the evident design he had to get you of his side. He, in the course of it, threatened me with appealing to you. --To intendto ruin me in the love of my dearest friend! Who, that valued thatfriend, could forgive it? You may believe, that if he had not proposedit, and after such accumulated offences, it was the very visit that Ishould have been delighted with. 

Indeed, Sir--Upon my word, my lord--I do assure you, sir, --with amoderate degree of haughtiness--was what the quarrel arose to, on myside--And, at last, to a declaration of rebellion--I won't. 

On his side, Upon my soul, madam--Let me perish, if--and then hesitating--You use me ill, madam. I have not deserved--And give me leave to say--I insist upon being obliged, madam. 

There was no bearing of this, Harriet. --It was a cool evening; but I tookup my fan--Hey-day! said I, what language is this?--You insist upon it, my lord!--I think I am married; am I not?--And I took my watch, half anhour after ten on Monday night--the--what day of the month is this?--Please the lord, I will note down this beginning moment of yourauthoritative demeanour. 

My dear Lady G----, [The wretch called me by his own name, perhapsfarther to insult me, ] if I could bear this treatment, it is impossiblefor me to love you as I do. 

So it is in love to me, that you are to put on already all the husband!--Jenny! [Do you see, my lord, affecting a whisper, how you dash the poorwench? How like a fool she looks at our folly!] Remember, Jenny, thatto-morrow morning you carry my wedding-suits to Mrs. Arnold; and tellher, she has forgot the hanging-sleeves to the gowns. Let her put themon out of hand. 

I was proceeding--But he rudely, gravely, and even with an air of scorn, [There was no bearing that, you know, ] admonished me. A little less wit, madam, and a little more discretion, would perhaps better become you. 

This was too true to be forgiven. You'll say it, Harriet, if I don't. And to come from a man that was not overburdened with either--But I hadtoo great a command of myself to say so. My dependence, my lord, [This Idid say, ] is upon your judgment: that will always be a balance to my wit;and, with the assistance of your reproving love, will in time teach mediscretion. 

Now, my dear, was not this a high compliment to him? Ought he not tohave taken it as such? Especially as I looked grave, and dropt him avery fine courtesy. But either his conscience or his ill-nature, (perhaps you'll say both, ) made him take it as a reflection, [True as youare alive, Harriet!] He bit his lip. Jenny, begone, said he--Jenny, don't go, said I--Jenny knew not which to obey. Upon my word, Harriet, Ibegan to think the man would have cuffed me. --And while he was in hisairs of mock-majesty, I stept to the door, and whipt down to my company. 

As married people are not to expose themselves to their friends, (who Ionce heard you sagely remark, would remember disagreeable things, whenthe honest pair had forgotten them, ) I was determined to be prudent. You would have been charmed with me, my dear, for my discretion. I willcheat by-standers, thought I; I will make my Lord and Lady L----, Dr. Bartlett, and Emily, whom I had before set in at cards, think we areegregiously happy--And down I sat, intending, with a lamb-likepeaceableness, to make observations on the play. But soon after, inwhipt my indiscreet lord, his colour heightened, his features working:and though I cautioned him not to expose himself, yet he assumed airsthat were the occasion, as you shall hear, of frightening away mycompany. He withdrew, in consequence of those airs; and, after a littlewhile, (repenting, as I hoped, ) he sent for me out. Some wives wouldhave played the queen Vashti on their tyrant, and refused to go: but I, all obedience, (my vow, so recently made, in my head, ) obeyed, at thevery first word: yet you must think that I (meek as I am naturally) couldnot help recriminating. He was too lordly to be expostulated with. --There was, 'I tell you, madam, ' and 'I won't be told, sir;' and when Ibroke from the passionate creature, and hoped to find my company, behold!they were all gone! None but Emily left. And thus might poor Lady L----be sent home, weeping, perhaps, for such an early marriage-tyrannyexerted on her meek sister. 

Well, and don't you think that we looked like a couple of fools at eachother, when we saw ourselves left alone, as I may say, to fight it out?I did expostulate with him as mildly as I could: he would have made it upwith me afterwards; but, no! there was no doing that, as a girl of yournice notions may believe, after he had, by his violent airs, exposed usboth before so many witnesses. In decency, therefore, I was obliged tokeep it up: and now our misunderstanding blazes, and is at such acomfortable height, that if we meet by accident, we run away from eachother by design. We have already made two breakfast-tables: yet I ammeek; he is sullen: I make courtesies; he returns not bows. --Sullencreature, and a rustic!--I go to my harpsichord; melody enrages him. Heis worse than Saul; for Saul could be gloomily pleased with the musiceven of the man he hated. 

I would have got you to come to us: that I thought was tending to acompliance; for it would have been condescending too much, as he is sovery perverse, if I had accompanied him to you. He has a great mind toappeal to you; but I have half rallied him out of his purpose. I sent toyou. What an answer did you return me!--Cruel Harriet! to deny yourrequested mediation in a difference that has arisen between man and wife. --But let the fire glow. If it spares the house, and only blazes in thechimney, I can bear it. 

Cross creature, adieu! If you know not such a woman as Grandison, Heavengrant that I may; and that my wishes may be answered as to the person;and then I will not know a Byron. 

See, Lucy, how high this dear flighty creature bribes! But I will not beinfluenced, by her bribery, to take her part. 

LETTER XXXII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONTUESDAY NIGHT. 

I am just returned from St. James's-square. 

But, first, I should tell you, that I had a visit from Lady Olivia andLady Maffei. Our conversation was in Italian and French. Lady Oliviaand I had a quarter of an hour's discourse in private: you may guess atour subject. She is not without that tenderness of heart which is theindispensable characteristic of a woman. She lamented the violence ofher temper, in a manner so affecting, that I cannot help pitying her, though at the instant I had in my head a certain attempt, that makes meshudder whenever I think of it. She regrets my going to Northamptonshireso soon. I have promised to return her visit to-morrow in the afternoon. 

She sets out on Friday next for Oxford. She wished I could accompanyher. She resolves to see all that is worth seeing in the westerncircuit, as I may call it. She observes, she says, that Sir CharlesGrandison's sisters, and their lords, are very particularly engaged atpresent; and are in expectation of a call to Windsor, to attend LordW----'s nuptials: she will therefore, having attendants enough, and twomen of consideration in her train, one of whom is not unacquainted withEngland, take cursory tours over the kingdom; having a taste fortravelling, and finding it a great relief to her spirits: and when LadyL---- and Lady G---- are more disengaged, will review the seats andplaces which she shall think worthy of a second visit, in their company. 

She professed to like the people here, and the face of the country; andtalked favourably of the religion of it: but, poor woman! she likes allthose the better, I doubt not, for the sake of one Englishman. Love, Lucy, gilds every object which bears a relation to the person beloved. 

Lady Maffei was very free in blaming her niece for this excursion. Shetook her chiding patiently; but yet, like a person that thought it toomuch in her power to gratify the person blaming her, to pay much regardto what she said. 

I took a chair to Lady G----'s. Emily ran to meet me in the hall. Shethrew her arms about me: I rejoice you are come, said she. Did you notmeet the house in the square?--What means my Emily?--Why, it has beenflung out of the windows, as the saying is. Ah madam! we are all topieces. One so careless, the other so passionate!--But, hush! Herecomes Lady G----. 

Take, Lucy, in the dialogue-way, particulars. 

LADY G. Then you are come, at last, Harriet. You wrote, that youwould not come near me. 

HAR. I did; but I could not stay away. Ah, Lady G----, you willdestroy your own happiness!

LADY G. So you wrote. Not one word, on the subject you hint at, thatyou have ever said or written before. I hate repetitions, child. 

HAR. Then I must be silent upon it. 

LADY G. Not of necessity. You can say new things upon old subjects. --But hush! Here comes the man. --She ran to her harpsichord--Is this it, Harriet? and touched the keys--repeating

 "Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon she sooth'd---- ----"

ENTER LORD G. 

LORD G. Miss Byron, I am your most obedient servant. The sight of yourejoices my soul. --Madam (to his lady), you have not been long enoughtogether to begin a tune. I know what this is for--

LADY G. Harmony! harmony! is a charming thing! But I, poor I! know notany but what this simple instrument affords me. 

LORD G. [Lifting up his hands. ] Harmony, madam! God is my witness--But I will lay every thing before Miss Byron. 

LADY G. You need not, my lord: she knows as much as she can know, already; except the fine colourings be added to the woeful tale, thatyour unbridled spirit can give it. --Have you my long letter about you, Harriet?

LORD G. And could you, madam, have the heart to write--

LADY G. Why, my lord, do you mince the matter? For heart, saycourage. You may speak as plain in Miss Byron's presence, as you didbefore she came: I know what you mean. 

LORD G. Let it be courage, then. 

HAR. Fie, fie, Lord G----! Fie, fie, Lady G----! What lengths do yourun! If I understand the matter right, you have both, like children, been at play, till you have fallen out. 

LORD G. If, Miss Byron, you know the truth, and can blame me--

HAR. I blame you only, my lord, for being in a passion. You see, mylady is serene: she keeps her temper: she looks as if she wanted to befriends with you. 

LORD G. O that cursed serenity!--When my soul is torn by awhirlwind--

LADY G. A good tragedy rant!--But, Harriet, you are mistaken: My LordG---- is a very passionate man. So humble, so--what shall I call it?before marriage--Did not the man see what a creature I was?--To bear withme, when he had no obligation to me; and not now, when he has thehighest--A miserable sinking!--O Harriet, Harriet! Never, never marry!

HAR. Dear Lady G----, you know in your own heart you are wrong--Indeedyou are wrong--

LORD G. God for ever reward you, madam!--I will tell you how itbegan--

LADY G. 'Began!' She knows that already, I tell you, my lord. Butwhat has passed within these four hours, she knows not: you may entertainher with that, if you please. --It was just about the time this day is aweek, that we were altogether, mighty comfortably, at St. George's, Hanover-square--

LORD G. Every tittle of what you promised there, madam--

LADY G. And I, my lord, could be your echo in this, were I not resolvedto keep my temper, as you cannot but say I have done, all along. 

LORD G. You could not, madam, if you did not despise me. 

LADY G. You are wrong, my lord, to think so: but you don't believeyourself: if you did, the pride of your heart ought not to permit you toown it. 

LORD G. Miss Byron, give me leave--

LADY G. Lord bless me! that people are so fond of exposing themselves!Had you taken my advice, when you pursued me out of my dressing-room intocompany--My lord, said I, as mildly as I now speak, Don't exposeyourself. But he was not at all the wiser for my advice. 

LORD G. Miss Byron, you see--But I had not come down but to make mycompliments to you. He bowed, and was about to withdraw. 

I took him by the sleeve--My lord, you must not go. Lady G----, if yourown heart justifies you for your part in this misunderstanding, say so; Ichallenge you to say so. --She was silent. 

HAR. If otherwise, own your fault, promise amendment--ask pardon. 

LADY G. Hey-day!

HAR. And my lord will ask yours, for mistaking you--For being tooeasily provoked--

LORD G. Too easily, madam--

HAR. What generous man would not smile at the foibles of a woman whoseheart is only gay with prosperity and lively youth; but has not the leastmalice in it? Has not she made choice of your lordship in preference ofany other man? She rallies every one; she can't help it: she is toblame. --Indeed, Lady G----, you are. Your brother felt your edge; heonce smarted by it, and was angry with you. --But afterwards, observingthat it was her way, my lord; that it was a kind of constitutional gaietyof heart, and exercised on those she loved best; he forgave, rallied heragain, and turned her own weapons upon her; and every one in company wasdelighted with the spirit of both. --You love her, my lord. 

LORD G. Never man more loved a woman. I am not an ill-natured man--

LADY G. But a captious, a passionate one, Lord G----. Who'd havethought it?

LORD G. Never was there, my dear Miss Byron, such astrangely-aggravating creature! She could not be so, if she did notdespise me. 

LADY G. Fiddle-faddle, silly man! And so you said before. If youthought so, you take the way, (don't you?) to mend the matter, by dancingand capering about, and putting yourself into all manner of disagreeableattitudes; and even sometimes being ready to foam at the mouth?--I toldhim, Miss Byron, There he stands, let him deny it, if he can; that Imarried a man with another face. Would not any other man have taken thisfor a compliment to his natural undistorted face, and instantly havepulled off the ugly mask of passion, and shewn his own?--

LORD G. You see, you see, the air, Miss Byron!--How ludicrously doesshe now, even now--

LADY G. See, Miss Byron!--How captious!--Lord G---- ought to have atermagant wife: one who could return rage for rage. Meekness is mycrime. --I cannot be put out of temper. --Meekness was never beforeattributed to woman as a fault. 

LORD G. Good God!--Meekness!--Good God!

LADY G. But, Harriet, do you judge on which side the grievance lies. --Lord G---- presents me with a face for his, that I never saw him wearbefore marriage: He has cheated me, therefore. I shew him the same facethat I ever wore, and treat him pretty much in the same manner (or I ammistaken) that I ever did: and what reason can he give, that will notdemonstrate him to be the most ungrateful of men, for the airs he giveshimself? Airs that he would not have presumed to put on eight days ago. Who then, Harriet, has reason to complain of grievance; my lord, or I?

LORD G. You see, Miss Byron--Can there be any arguing with a woman whoknows herself to be in jest, in all she says?

HAR. Why then, my lord, make a jest of it. What will not bear anargument, will not be worth one's anger. 

LORD G. I leave it to Miss Byron, Lady G----, to decide between us, asshe pleases. 

LADY G. You'd better leave it to me, sir. 

HAR. Do, my lord. 

LORD G. Well, madam!--And what is your decree?

LADY G. You, Miss Byron, had best be Lady Chancellor, after all. Ishould not bear to have my decree disputed, after it is pronounced. 

HAR. If I must, my decree is this:--You, Lady G---- shall own yourselfin fault; and promise amendment. My lord shall forgive you; and promisethat he will, for the future, endeavour to distinguish between your goodand your ill-nature: that he will sit down to jest with your jest, andnever be disturbed at what you say, when he sees it accompanied with thatarchness of eye and lip which you put on to your brother, and to everyone whom you best love, when you are disposed to be teazingly facetious. 

LADY G. Why, Harriet, you have given Lord G---- a clue to find me out, and spoil all my sport. 

HAR. What say you, my lord?

LORD G. Will Lady G---- own herself in fault, as you propose?

LADY G. Odious recrimination!--I leave you together. I never was infault in my life. Am I not a woman? If my lord will ask pardon for hisfroppishness, as we say of children--

She stopt, and pretended to be going--

HAR. That my lord shall not do, Charlotte. You have carried the jesttoo far already. My lord shall preserve his dignity for his wife's sake. My lord, you will not permit Lady G---- to leave us, however?

He took her hand, and pressed it with his lips: for God's sake, madam, let us be happy: it is in your power to make us both so: it ever shall bein your power. If I have been in fault, impute it to my love. I cannotbear your contempt; and I never will deserve it. 

LADY G. Why could not this have been said some hours ago?--Why, slighting my early caution, would you expose yourself?

I took her aside. Be generous, Lady G----. Let not your husband be theonly person to whom you are not so. 

LADY G. [Whispering. ] Our quarrel has not run half its length. If wemake up here, we shall make up clumsily. One of the silliest things inthe world is, a quarrel that ends not, as a coachman after a journeycomes in, with a spirit. We shall certainly renew it. 

HAR. Take the caution you gave to my lord: don't expose yourself. Andanother; that you cannot more effectually do so, than by exposing yourhusband. I am more than half-ashamed of you. You are not the CharlotteI once thought you were. Let me see, if you have any regard to my goodopinion of you, that you can own an error with some grace. 

LADY G. I am a meek, humble, docile creature. She turned to me, andmade me a rustic courtesy, her hands before her: I'll try for it: tellme, if I am right. Then stepping towards my lord, who was with his backto us looking out at the window--and he turning about to her bowing--Mylord, said she, Miss Byron has been telling me more than I knew before ofmy duty. She proposes herself one day to make a won-der-ful obedientwife. It would have been well for you, perhaps, had I had her example towalk by. She seems to say, that, now I am married, I must be grave, sage, and passive: that smiles will hardly become me: that I must be primand formal, and reverence my husband. --If you think this behaviour willbecome a married woman, and expect it from me, pray, my lord, put meright by your frowns, whenever I shall be wrong. For the future, if Iever find myself disposed to be very light-hearted, I will ask your leavebefore I give way to it. And now, what is next to be done? humorouslycourtesying, her hands before her. 

He clasped her in his arms: dear provoking creature! This, this is nextto be done--I ask you but to love me half as much as I love you, and Ishall be the happiest man on earth. 

My lord, said I, you ruin all by this condescension on a speech and airso ungracious. If this is all you get by it, never, never, my lord, fallout again. O Charlotte! If you are not generous, you come off much, much too easily. 

Well now, my lord, said she, holding out her hand, as if threatening me, let you and me, man and wife like, join against the interposer in ourquarrels. --Harriet, I will not forgive you, for this last part of yourlecture. 

And thus was this idle quarrel made up. All that vexes me on theoccasion is, that it was not made up with dignity on my lord's part. His honest heart so overflowed with joy at his lips, that the naughtycreature, by her arch leers, every now and then, shewed, that she wassensible of her consequence to his happiness. But, Lucy, don't let hersink too low in your esteem: she has many fine qualities. 

They prevailed on me to stay supper. Emily rejoiced in thereconciliation: her heart was, as I may say, visible in her joy. Can Ilove her better than I do? If I could, she would, every time I see her, give me reason for it. 

LETTER XXXIII

MISS BYRON. --IN CONTINUATIONWEDNESDAY NOON, APRIL 19. 

It would puzzle you to guess at a visitor I had this morning. --Honest Mr. Fowler. I was very glad to see him. He brought me a Letter from hisworthy uncle. Good Sir Rowland! I had a joy that I thought I should nothave had while I stayed in London, on its being put into my hand, thoughthe contents gave me sensible pain. I enclose it. It is dated fromCaermarthen. Be pleased to read it here. 

***

CAERMARTHEN, APRIL 11. 

How shall I, in fit manner, inscribe my letter to the loveliest of women!I don't mean because of your loveliness; but whether as daughter or not, as you did me the honour to call yourself. Really, and truly, I mustsay, that I had rather call you by another name, though a little moreremote as to consanguinity. Lord have mercy upon me, how have I talkedof you! How many of our fine Caermarthen girls have I filled with envyof your peerless perfections!

Here am I settled to my heart's content, could I but obtain--You knowwhom I mean. --A town of gentry: A fine country round us--A fine estate ofour own. Esteemed, nay, for that matter, beloved, by all our neighboursand tenants. Who so happy as Rowland Meredith, if his poor boy could behappy!--Ah, madam!--And can't it be so? I am afraid of asking. Yet Iunderstand, that, notwithstanding all the jack-a-dandies that have beenfluttering about you, you are what you were when I lest town. Somewhispers have gone out of a fine gentleman, indeed, who had a greatkindness for you; but yet that something was in the way between you. TheLord bless and prosper my dear daughter, as I must then call you, and notniece, if you have any kindness for him. And if as how you have, itwould be wonderfully gracious if you would but give half a hint of it tomy nephew, or if so be you will not to him, to me, your father you know, under your own precious hand. The Lord be good unto me! But I shallnever see the she that will strike my fancy, as you have done. But whata dreadful thing would it be, if you, who are so much courted and admiredby many fine gallants, should at last be taken with a man who could notbe yours! God forbid that such a disastrous thing should happen! Iprofess to you, madam, that a tear or two have strayed down my cheeks atthe thoughts of it. For why? Because you played no tricks with any man:you never were a coquette, as they call them. You dealt plainly, sincerely, and tenderly too, to all men; of which my nephew and I canbear witness. 

Well, but what now is the end of my writing?--Lord love you, cannot, cannot you at last give comfort to two honest hearts? Honester you neverknew! And yet, if you could, I dare say you would. Well, then, and ifyou can't, we must sit down as contented as we can; that's all we havefor it. --But, poor young man! Look at him, if you read this before him. Strangely altered! Poor young man!--And if as how you cannot, why then, God bless my daughter; that's all. And I do assure you, that you haveour prayers every Lord's day, from the bottom of our hearts. 

And now, if you will keep a secret, I will tell it you; and yet, when Ibegan, I did not intend it: the poor youth must not know it. It is donein the singleness of our hearts; and if you think we mean to gain yourlove for us by it, I do assure you, that you wrong us. --My nephewdeclares, that he never will marry, if it be not somebody: and he hasmade his will, and so have I his uncle; and, let me tell you, that if ashow I cannot have a niece, my daughter shall be the better for havingknown, and treated as kindly, as power was lent her, Her true friend, loving father, and obedient servant, ROWLAND MEREDITH. 

Love and service to Mr. And Mrs. Reeves, and all friends who inquire after me. Farewell. God bless you! Amen. 

***

Have you, could you, Lucy, read this letter with dry eyes? Generous, worthy, honest men! I read but half way before Mr. Fowler--Glad I was, that I read no further. I should not have been able to have kept hisuncle's secret, if I had; had it been but to disclaim the acceptance ofthe generous purpose. The carrying it into effect would exceedinglydistress me, besides the pain the demise of the honest man would give me;and the more, as I bespoke the fatherly relation from him myself. Ifsuch a thing were to be, Sir Charles Grandison's generosity to the Danbysshould be my example. 

Do you know, Mr. Fowler, said I, the contents of the letter you have putinto my hand?

No farther than that my uncle told me, it contained professions offatherly love; and with wishes only--But without so much as expressinghis hopes. 

Sir Rowland is a good man, said I: I have not read above half his letter. There seems to be too much of the father in it, for me to read further, before my brother. God bless my brother Fowler, and reward the fatherlylove of Sir Rowland to his daughter Byron! I must write to him. 

Mr. Fowler, poor man! profoundly sighed; bowed; with such a look ofrespectful acquiescence--Bless me, my dear, how am I to be distressed onall sides! by good men too; as Sir Charles could say by good women. 

Is there nothing less than giving myself to either, that I can do to shewMr. Orme and Mr. Fowler my true value for them?

Poor Mr. Fowler!--Indeed he looks to be, as Sir Rowland hints, not well. --Such a modest, such a humble, such a silent lover!--He cost me tears atparting: I could not hide them. He heaped praises and blessings upon me, and hurried away at last, to hide his emotion, with a sentenceunfinished. --God preserve you, dear and worthy sir! was all I could tryto say. The last words stuck in my throat, till he was out of hearing;and then I prayed for blessings upon him and his uncle: and repeatedthem, with fresh tears, on reading the rest of the affecting letter. 

Mr. Fowler told Mr. Reeves, before I saw him, that he is to go toCaermarthen for the benefit of his native air, in a week. He let himknow where he lodged in town. He had been riding for his health anddiversion about the country, ever since his uncle went; and has not beenyet at Caermarthen. 

I wish Mr. Fowler had once, if but once, called me sister: it would havebeen such a kind acquiescence, as would have given me some littlepleasure on recollection. Methinks I don't know how to have done writingof Sir Rowland and Mr. Fowler. 

I sat down, however, while the uncle and nephew filled my thoughts, andwrote to the former. I have enclosed the copy of my letter. 

Adieu, my Lucy. 

LETTER XXXIV

MISS BYRON, TO SIR ROWLAND MEREDITHWEDNESDAY, APRIL 19. 

It was with great pleasure that I received, this day, the kindest Letterthat ever was written by a real father to his dearest child. I wasresolved that I would not go to rest till I had acknowledged the favour. 

How sweet is the name of father to a young person who, out of nearone-and-twenty years of life, has for more than half the time beenbereaved of hers; and who was also one of the best of men!

You gave me an additional pleasure in causing this remembrance of yourpromised paternal goodness to be given me by Mr. Fowler in person. TillI knew you and him, I had no father, no brother. 

How good you are in your apprehensions that there may be a man on whomyour daughter has cast her eye, and who cannot look upon her with thesame distinction--O that I had been near you when you wrote thatsweetly-compassionating, that indulgent passage! I would have wiped thetears from your eyes myself, and reverenced you as my true father. 

You demand of me, as my father, a hint, or half a hint, as you call it, to be given to my brother Fowler; or if not to him, to you. To him, whomI call father, I mean all the duty of a child. I call him not fathernominally only: I will, irksome as the subject is, own, without reserve, the truth to you--[In tenderness to my brother, how could I to him?]--There is a man whom, and whom only, I could love as a good wife ought tolove her husband. He is the best of men. O my good Sir RowlandMeredith! if you knew him, you would love him yourself, and own him foryour son. I will not conceal his name from my father: Sir CharlesGrandison is the man. Inquire about him. His character will rise uponyou from every mouth. He engaged first all your daughter's gratitude, byrescuing her from a great danger and oppression; for he is as brave as heis good: and how could she help suffering a tenderness to spring up fromher gratitude, of which she was never before sensible to any man in theworld? There is something in the way, my good sir; but not that proceedsfrom his slights or contempts. Your daughter could not live, if it wereso. A glorious creature is in the way! who has suffered for him, whodoes suffer for him: he ought to be hers, and only hers; and if she canbe recovered from a fearful malady that has seized her mind, he probablywill. My daily prayers are, that God will restore her!

But yet, my dear sir, my friend, my father! my esteem for this noblest ofmen is of such a nature, that I cannot give my hand to any other: myfather Meredith would not wish me to give a hand without a heart. 

This, sir, is the case. Let it, I beseech you, rest within your ownbreast, and my brother Fowler's. How few minds are there delicate andcandid enough to see circumstances of this kind in the light they oughtto appear in! And pray for me, my good Sir Rowland; not that the way maybe smoothed to what once would have crowned my wishes as to this life;but that Sir Charles Grandison may be happy with the lady that is, andought to be, dearest to his heart; and that your daughter may be enabledto rejoice in their felicity. What, my good sir, is this span of life, that a passenger through it should seek to overturn the interests ofothers to establish her own? And can the single life be a grievance?Can it be destitute of the noblest tendernesses? No, sir. You that havelived to an advanced age, in a fair fame, surrounded with comforts, andas tender to a worthy nephew, as the most indulgent father could be tothe worthiest of sons, can testify for me, that it is not. 

But now, sir, one word--I disclaim, but yet in all thankfulness, theacceptance of the favour signified to be intended me in the latter partof the paternal letter before me. Our acquaintance began with a hope, onyour side, that I could not encourage. As I could not, shall I accept ofthe benefit from you, to which I could only have been entitled (and thatas I had behaved) had I been able to oblige you?--No, sir! I will not, in this case, be benefited, when I cannot benefit. Put me not therefore, I beseech you, sir, if such an event (deplored by me, as it would be!)should happen, upon the necessity of inquiring after your other relationsand friends. Sir Rowland Meredith my father, and Mr. Fowler my brother, are all to me of the family they distinguish by their relation, that Iknow at present. Let me not be made known to the rest by a distinctionthat would be unjust to them, and to yourself, as it must deprive you ofthe grace of obliging those who have more than a stranger's claim; andmust, in the event, lay them under the appearance of an obligation tothat stranger for doing them common justice. 

I use the word stranger with reference to those of your family andfriends to whom I must really appear in that light. But, laying theseconsiderations aside, in which I am determined not to interfere withthem, I am, with the tenderest regard, dear and good sir, Your ever-dutiful and affectionate daughter, HARRIET BYRON. 

LETTER XXXV

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBYWEDNESDAY, APRIL 19. 

I shall dispatch this by your Gibson early in the morning. It was kindin you to bid him call, in his way down; for now I shall be almost sureof meeting (if not my uncle) your brother, and who knows, but my Lucyherself, at Dunstable? Where, barring accidents, I shall be on Fridaynight. 

You will see some of the worthiest people in the world, my dear, if youcome, all prepared to love you: but let not any body be put toinconvenience to meet me at Dunstable. My noble friends here willproceed with me to Stratford, or even to Northampton, they say; but theywill see me safe in the protection of somebody I love, and whom they mustlove for my sake. 

I don't wonder that Sir Charles Grandison loves Mr. Beauchamp: he is avery worthy and sensible man. He, as every body else, idolizes SirCharles. It is some pleasure to me, Lucy, that I stand high in hisesteem. To be respected by the worthy, is one of the greatest felicitiesin this life; since it is to be ranked as one of them. Sir Harry and hislady are come to town. All, it seems, is harmony in that family. Theycannot bear Mr. Beauchamp's absence from them for three days together. All the neighbouring gentlemen are in love with him. His manners are sogentle; his temper so even; so desirous to oblige; so genteel in hisperson; so pleasing in his address; he must undoubtedly make a good womanvery happy. 

But Emily, poor girl! sees only Sir Charles Grandison with eyes of love. Mr. Beauchamp is, however, greatly pleased with Emily. He told Lady G----that he thought her a fine young creature; and that her mind was stillmore amiable than her person. But his behaviour to her is extremelyprudent. He says finer things of her, than to her: yet surely I ammistaken if he meditates not in her his future wife. 

Mr. Beauchamp will be one of my escort. 

Emily, at her own request, is to go to Colnebrook with Lady L---- after Iam gone. 

Mr. Reeves will ride. Lord L---- and Lord G---- will also oblige me withtheir company on horseback. 

Mrs. Reeves is forbidden to venture; but Lady L---- and Lady G---- willnot be denied coming with me. 

I shall take leave of Lady Olivia and Lady Maffei to-morrow morning; whenthey will set out for their projected tour. To-morrow we and the wholeGrandison family are to dine together at Lord L----'s, for the last time. It will be a mournful dining-time, on that account. 

Lady Betty Williams, her daughter, and Miss Clements, supped with us thisnight, and took leave of me in the tenderest manner. They greatly regretmy going down so soon, as they call it. 

As to the public diversions, which they wish me to stay and give into, tobe sure I should have been glad to have been better qualified to haveentertained you with the performances of this or that actor, this or thatmusician, and the like: but, frightened by the vile plot upon me at amasquerade, I was thrown out of that course of diversion, and indeed intomore affecting, more interesting engagements; into the knowledge of afamily that had no need to look out of itself for entertainments: and, besides, are not all the company we see, as visiters or guests, full ofthese things? I have seen the principal performers, in every way, oftenenough to give me a notion of their performances, though I have nottroubled you with such common things as revolve every season. 

You know I am far from slighting the innocent pleasures in which othersdelight--It would have been happier for me, perhaps, had I had moreleisure to attend those amusements, than I have found. Yet I am notsure, neither: for methinks, with all the pangs that my suspenses havecost me, I would not but have known Sir Charles Grandison, his sisters, his Emily, and Dr. Bartlett. 

I could only have wished to have been spared Sir Hargrave Pollexfen'svile attempt: then, if I had come acquainted with this family, it wouldhave been as I came acquainted with others: my gratitude had not beenengaged so deeply. 

Well--But what signify if's?--What has been, has; what must be, must. Only love me, my dear friends, as you used to love me. If I was a goodgirl when I left you, I hope I am not a bad one now, that I am returningto you. My morals, I bless God, are unhurt: my heart is not corrupted bythe vanities of the great town: I have a little more experience than Ihad: and if I have severely paid for it, it is not at the price of myreputation. And I hope, if nobody has benefited by me, since I have beenin town, that no one has suffered by me. Poor Mr. Fowler!--I could nothelp it, you know. Had I, by little snares, follies, coquetries, soughtto draw him on, and entangle him, his future welfare would, with reason, be more the subject of my solicitude, than it is now necessary it shouldbe; though, indeed, I cannot help making it a good deal so. 

***

THURSDAY MORNING. 

Dr. Bartlett has just now taken leave of me, in my own dressing-room. The parting scene between us was tender. 

I have not given you my opinion of Miss Williams. Had I seen her at myfirst coming to town, I should have taken as much notice of her, in myletters to you, as I did of the two Miss Brambers, Miss Darlington, MissCantillon, Miss Allestree, and others of my own sex; and of Mr. Somner, Mr. Barnet, Mr. Walden, of the other; who took my first notice, as theyfell early in my way, and with whom it is possible, as well as with thetown-diversions, I had been more intimate, had not Sir Hargrave's vileattempt carried me out of their acquaintance into a much higher; which ofnecessity, as well as choice, entirely engrossed my attention. But nowhow insipid would any new characters appear to you, if they were but of alike cast with those I have mentioned, were I to make such the subjectsof my pen, and had I time before me; which I cannot have, to write again, before I embrace you all, my dear, my ever dear and indulgent friends!

I will only say, that Miss Williams is a genteel girl; but will hardly bemore than one of the better sort of modern women of condition; and thatshe is to be classed so high, will be owing more to Miss Clements'slessons, than, I am afraid, to her mother's example. 

Is it, Lucy, that I have more experience and discernment now, or lesscharity and good-nature, than when I first came to town? for then Ithought well, in the main, of Lady Betty Williams. But though she is agood-natured, obliging woman; she is so immersed in the love of publicdiversions! so fond of routs, drums, hurricanes, --Bless me, my dear! howlearned should I have been in all the gaieties of the modern life; what afine lady, possibly; had I not been carried into more rational (howeverto me they have been more painful) scenes; and had I followed the lead ofthis lady, as she (kindly, as to her intention) had designed I should!

In the afternoon Mr. Beauchamp is to introduce Sir Harry and LadyBeauchamp, on their first visit to the two sisters. 

I had almost forgot to tell you, that my cousins and I are to attend thegood Countess of D---- for one half hour, after we have taken leave ofLady Olivia and her aunt. 

And now, my Lucy, do I shut up my correspondence with you from London. My heart beats high with the hope of being as indulgently received by allyou, my dearest friends, as I used to be after a shorter absence: for Iam, and ever will be, The grateful, dutiful, and affectionateHARRIET BYRON. 

LETTER XXXVI

MISS BYRON, TO LADY G----SELBY-HOUSE, MONDAY, APRIL 24. 

Though the kind friends with whom I parted at Dunstable were pleased, oneand all, to allow that the correspondence which is to pass between mydear Lady G---- and their Harriet, should answer the just expectations ofeach upon her, in the writing way; and though (at your motion, remember, not at mine) they promised to be contented with hearing read to them suchparts of my letters as you should think proper to communicate; yet cannotI dispense with my duty to Lady L----, my Emily, my cousin Reeves, andDr. Bartlett. Accordingly, I write to them by this post; and I chargeyou, my dear, with my sincere and thankful compliments to your lord, andto Mr. Beauchamp, for their favours. 

What an agreeable night, in the main, was Friday night! Had we not beento separate next morning, it would have been an agreeable one indeed!

Is not my aunt Selby an excellent woman? But you all admired her. Sheadmires you all. I will tell you, another time, what she said of you, mydear, in particular. 

My cousin Lucy, too--is she not an amiable creature? Indeed you all weredelighted with her. But I take pleasure in recollecting yourapprobations of one I so dearly love. She is as prudent as Lady L----and now our Nancy is so well recovered, as cheerful as Lady G----. Yousaid you would provide a good husband for her: don't forget. The man, whoever he be, cannot be too good for my Lucy. Nancy is such anothergood girl: but so I told you. 

Well, and pray, did you ever meet with so pleasant a man as my uncleSelby? What should we have done, when we talked of your brother, when wetalked of our parting, had it not been for him? You looked upon me everynow and then, when he returned your smartness upon him, as if you thoughtI had let him know some of your perversenesses to Lord G----. And do youthink I did not? Indeed I did. Can you imagine that your frank-heartedHarriet, who hides not from her friends her own faults, should concealyours?--But what a particular character is yours! Every body blames you, that knows of your over-livelinesses; yet every body loves you--I think, for your very faults. Had it not been so, do you imagine I could everhave loved you, after you had led Lady L---- to join with you, on acertain teasing occasion?--My uncle dotes upon you!

But don't tell Emily that my cousin James Selby is in love with her. That he may not, on the score of the dear girl's fortune, be thoughtpresumptuous, let me tell you, that he is almost of age; and, when he is, comes into possession of a handsome estate. He has many good qualities. I have, in short, a very great value for him; but not enough, though heis my relation, to wish him my still more beloved Emily. Dear creature!Methinks I still feel her parting tears on my cheek!

You charge me to be as minute, in the letters I write to you, as I usedto be to my friends here: and you promise to be as circumstantial inyours. I will set you the example: do you be sure to follow it. 

We baited at Stoney Stratford. I was afraid how it would be: there werethe two bold creatures, Mr. Greville, and Mr. Fenwick, ready to receiveus. A handsome collation, as at our setting out, so now, bespoke bythem, was set on the table. How they came by their intelligence, nobodyknows: we were all concerned to see them. They seemed half-mad for joy. My cousin James had alighted to hand us out; but Mr. Greville was soearnest to offer his hand, that though my cousin was equally ready, Ithought I could not deny to his solicitude for the poor favour, such amark of civility. Besides, if I had, it would have been distinguishinghim for more than a common neighbour, you know. Mr. Fenwick took theother hand, when I had stept out of the coach, and then (with so muchpride, as made me ashamed of myself) they hurried me between them, through the inn yard, and into the room they had engaged for us; blessingthemselves, all the way, for my coming down Harriet Byron. 

I looked about, as if for the dear friends I had parted with atDunstable. This is not, thought I, so delightful an inn as they madethat--Now they, thought I, are pursuing their road to London, as we areours to Northampton. But ah! where, where is Sir Charles Grandison atthis time? And I sighed! But don't read this, and such strokes as this, to any body but Lord and Lady L----. You won't, you say--Thank you, Charlotte. --I will call you Charlotte, when I think of it, as youcommanded me. The joy we had at Dunstable, was easy, serene, deep, full, as I may say; it was the joy of sensible people: but the joy here wasmade by the two gentlemen, mad, loud, and even noisy. They hardly wereable to contain themselves; and my uncle, and cousin James, were forcedto be loud, to be heard. 

Mr. Orme, good Mr. Orme, when we came near his park, was on the highwayside, perhaps near the very spot where he stood to see me pass to Londonso many weeks ago--Poor man!--When I first saw him, (which was before thecoach came near, for I looked out only, as thinking I would mark theplace where I last beheld him, ) he looked with so disconsolate an air, and so fixed, that I compassionately said to myself, Surely the worthyman has not been there ever since!

I twitched the string just in time: the coach stopt. Mr. Orme, said I, how do you? Well, I hope?--How does Miss Orme?

I had my hand on the coach-door. He snatched it. It was not anunwilling hand. He pressed it with his lips. God be praised, said he, (with a countenance, O how altered for the better!) for permitting meonce more to behold that face--that angelic face, he said. 

God bless you, Mr. Orme! said I: I am glad to see you. Adieu. 

The coach drove on. Poor Mr. Orme! said my aunt. 

Mr. Orme, Lucy, said I, don't look so ill as you wrote he was. 

His joy to see you, said she--But Mr. Orme is in a declining way. 

Mr. Greville, on the coach stopping, rode back just as it was going onagain--And with a loud laugh--How the d----l came Orme to know of yourcoming, madam!--Poor fellow! It was very kind of you to stop your coachto speak to the statue. And he laughed again. --Nonsensical! At what?

My grandmamma Shirley, dearest of parents! her youth, as she was pleasedto say, renewed by the expectation of so soon seeing her darling child, came (as my aunt told us, you know) on Thursday night to Selby-house, tocharge her and Lucy with her blessing to me; and resolving to stay thereto receive me. Our beloved Nancy was also to be there; so were two othercousins, Kitty and Patty Holles, good young creatures; who, in myabsence, had attended my grandmamma at every convenient opportunity, andwhom I also found here. 

When we came within sight of this house, Now, Harriet, said Lucy, I seethe same kind of emotions beginning to arise in your face and bosom, asLady G---- told us you shewed when you first saw your aunt at Dunstable. My grandmamma! said I, I am in sight of the dear house that holds her: Ihope she is here. But I will not surprise her with my joy to see her. Lie still, throbbing impatient heart. 

But when the coach set us down at the inner gate, there, in theoutward-hall, sat my blessed grandmamma. The moment I beheld her, myintended caution forsook me: I sprang by my aunt, and, before thefoot-step could be put down, flew, as it were, out of the coach, andthrew myself at her feet, wrapping my arms about her: Bless, bless, saidI, your Harriet! I could not, at the moment, say another word. 

Great God! said the pious parent, her hands and eyes lifted up, GreatGod! I thank thee! Then folding her arms about my neck, she kissed myforehead, my cheek, my lips--God bless my love! Pride of my life! themost precious of a hundred daughters! How does my child--my Harriet--Omy love!--After such dangers, such trials, such harassings--Once more, God be praised that I clasp to my fond heart, my Harriet!

Separate them, separate them, said my facetious uncle, (yet he had tearsin his eyes, ) before they grow together!--Madam, to my grandmamma, she isour Harriet, as well as yours: let us welcome the saucy girl, on herre-entrance into these doors!--Saucy, I suppose, I shall soon find her. 

My grandmamma withdrew her fond arms: Take her, take her, said she, eachin turn: but I think I never can part with her again. 

My uncle saluted me, and bid me very kindly welcome home--so did everyone. 

How can I return the obligations which the love of all my friends laysupon me? To be good, to be grateful, is not enough; since that one oughtto be for one's own sake. Yet how can I be even grateful to them withhalf a heart? Ah, Lady G----, you bid me be free in my confessions. Youpromise to look my letters over before you read them to any body; and tomark passages proper to be kept to yourself--Pray do. 

Mr. Greville and Mr. Fenwick were here separately, an hour ago: I thankedthem for their civility on the road, and not ungraciously, as Mr. Greville told my uncle, as to him. He was not, he said, without hopes, yet; since I knew not how to be ungrateful. Mr. Greville builds, as healways did, a merit on his civility; and by that means sinks, in thenarrower lover, the claim he might otherwise make to the title of thegenerous neighbour. 

***

Miss Orme has just been here. She could not help throwing in a word forher brother. 

You will guess, my dear Lady G----, at the subject of our conversationshere, and what they will be, morning, noon, and night, for a week tocome. My grandmamma is better in health than I have known her for a yearor two past. The health of people in years can mend but slowly; and theyare slow to acknowledge it in their own favour. My grandmamma, however, allows that she is better within these few days past; but attributes theamendment to her Harriet's return. 

How do they all bless, revere, extol, your noble brother!--How do theywish--And how do they regret--you know what--Yet how ready are they toapplaud your Harriet, if she can hold her magnanimity, in preferring thehappiness of Clementina to her own!--My grandmamma and aunt are ofopinion, that I should; and they praise me for the generosity of myeffort, whether the superior merits of the man will or will not allow meto succeed in it. But my uncle, my Lucy, and my Nancy, from theirunbounded love of me, think a little, and but a little, narrower; and, believing it will go hard with me, say, It is hard. My uncle, inparticular, says, The very pretension is flight and nonsense: but, however, if the girl, added he, can parade away her passion for an objectso worthy, with all my heart: it will be but just, that the romancingelevations, which so often drive headstrong girls into difficulties, should now and then help a more discreet one out of them. 

Adieu, my beloved Lady G----! Repeated compliments, love, thanks, to myLord and Lady L----, to my Emily, to Dr. Bartlett, to Mr. Beauchamp, andparticularly to my Lord G----. Dear, dear Charlotte, be good! Let mebeseech you be good! If you are not, you will have every one of myfriends who met you at Dunstable, and, from their report, my grandmammaand Nancy, against you; for they find but one fault in my lord: it is, that he seems too fond of a lady, who, by her archness of looks, andhalf-saucy turns upon him, even before them, evidently shewed--Shall Isay what? But I stand up for you, my dear. Your gratitude, yourgenerosity, your honour, I say, (and why should I not add your duty?)will certainly make you one of the most obliging of wives, to the mostaffectionate of husbands. 

My uncle says he hopes so: but though he adores you for a friend, and thecompanion of a lively hour; yet he does not know but his dame Selby isstill the woman whom a man should prefer for a wife: and she, said he, isfull as saucy as a wife need to be; though I think, Harriet, that she hasnot been the less dutiful of late for your absence. 

Once more, adieu, my dear Lady G----, and continue to love your

HARRIET BYRON. 

LETTER XXXVII

LADY G----, TO MISS BYRONTHURSDAY, APRIL 27. 

Every one of the Dunstable party say, that you are a grateful and goodgirl. Beauchamp can talk of nobody else of our sex: I believe in myconscience he is in love with you. I think all the unprovided-for youngwomen, wherever you come, must hate you. Was you never by surprisecarried into the chamber of a friend labouring with the smallpox, in theinfectious stage of it?--O, but I think you once said you had had thatdistemper. But your mind, Harriet, were your face to be ruined, wouldmake you admirers. The fellows who could think of preferring even such aface to such a heart, may be turned over to the class of insignificants. 

Is not your aunt Selby, you ask, an excellent woman?--She is. I admireher. But I am very angry with you for deferring to another time, acquainting me with what she said of me. When we are taken with anybody, we love they should be taken with us. Teasing Harriet! You knowwhat an immoderate quantity of curiosity I have. Never serve me soagain!

I am in love with your cousin Lucy. Were either Fenwick or Greville goodenough--But they are not. I think she shall have Mr. Orme. Nancy, yousay, is such another good girl. I don't doubt it. Is she not yourcousin, and Lucy's sister? But I cannot undertake for every good girlwho wants a husband. I wish I had seen Lucy a fortnight ago: then Nancymight have had Mr. Orme, and Lucy should have had Lord G----. He admiresher greatly. And do you think that a man who at that time professed forme so much love and service, and all that, would have scrupled to obligeme, had I (as I easily should) proved to him, that he would have been amuch happier man than he could hope to be with somebody else?

Your uncle is a pleasant man: but tell him I say, that the man would beout of his wits, that did not make the preference he does in favour ofhis dame Selby, as he calls her. Tell him also, if you please, in returnfor his plain dealing, that I say, he studies too much for hispleasantries: he is continually hunting for occasions to be smart. Ihave heard my father say, that this was the fault of some wits of hisacquaintance, whom he ranked among the witlings for it. If you think itwill mortify him more, you may tell him, (for I am very revengeful when Ithink myself affronted, ) that were I at liberty, which, God help me, I amnot! I would sooner choose for a husband the man I have, (poor soul, as Inow and then think him, ) than such a teasing creature as himself, wereboth in my power, and both of an age. And I should have this good reasonfor my preference: your uncle and I should have been too much alike, andso been jealous of each other's wit; whereas I can make my honest LordG---- look about him, and admire me strangely, whenever I please. 

But I am, it seems, a person of a particular character. Every one, yousay, loves me, yet blames me. Odd characters, my dear, are needful tomake even characters shine. You good girls would not be valued as youare, if there were not bad ones. Have you not heard it said, that allhuman excellence is but comparative? Pray allow of the contrast. You, Iam sure, ought. You are an ungrateful creature, if, whenever you thinkof my over-livelinesses, as you call 'em, you don't drop a courtesy, andsay, you are obliged to me. 

But still the attack made upon you in your dressing-room at Colnebrook, by my sister and me, sticks in your stomach--And why so? We were willingto shew you, that we were not the silly people you must have thought us, had we not been able to distinguish light from darkness. You, who everwere, I believe, one of the frankest-hearted girls in Britain, andadmired for the ease and dignity given you by that frankness, weregrowing awkward, nay dishonest. Your gratitude! your gratitude! was thedust you wanted to throw into our eyes, that we might not see that youwere governed by a stronger motive. You called us your friends, yoursisters, but treated us not as either; and this man, and that, andt'other, you could refuse; and why? No reason given for it; and we wereto be popt off with your gratitude, truly!--We were to believe just whatyou said, and no more; nay, not so much as you said. But we were not soimplicit. Nor would you, in our case, have been so. 

But 'you, perhaps, would not have violently broken in upon a poor thing, who thought we were blind, because she was not willing we should see. '--May be not: but then, in that case, we were honester than you would havebeen; that's all. Here, said I, Lady L----, is this poor girl awkwardlystruggling to conceal what every body sees; and, seeing, applauds herfor, the man considered: [Yes, Harriet, the man considered; be pleased totake that in:] let us, in pity, relieve her. She is thought to be frank, open-hearted, communicative; nay, she passes herself upon us in thosecharacters: she sees we keep nothing from her. She has been acquaintedwith your love before wedlock; with my folly, in relation to Anderson:she has carried her head above a score or two of men not contemptible. She sits enthroned among us, while we make but common figures at herfootstool: she calls us sisters, friends, and twenty pretty names. Letus acquaint her, that we see into her heart; and why Lord D---- andothers are so indifferent with her. If she is ingenuous, let us spareher; if not, leave me to punish her--Yet we will keep up her punctilio asto our brother; we will leave him to make his own discoveries. She mayconfide in his politeness; and the result will be happier for her;because she will then be under no restraint to us, and her native freedomof heart may again take its course. 

Agreed, agreed, said Lady L----. And arm-in-arm, we entered yourdressing-room, dismissed the maid, and began the attack--And, O Harriet!how you hesitated, paraded, fooled on with us, before you came toconfession! Indeed you deserved not the mercy we shewed you--So, child, you had better to have let this part of your story sleep in peace. 

You bid me not tell Emily, that your cousin is in love with her: but Ithink I will. Girls begin very early to look out for admirers. It isbetter, in order to stay her stomach, to find out one for her, than thatshe should find out one for herself; especially when the man is amongourselves, as I may say, and both are in our own management, and atdistance from each other. Emily is a good girl; but she hassusceptibilities already: and though I would not encourage her, as yet, to look out of herself for happiness; yet I would give her consequencewith herself, and at the same time let her see, that there could be nomention made of any thing that related to her, but what she should beacquainted with. Dear girl! I love her as well as you; and I pity hertoo: for she, as well as somebody else, will have difficulties to contendwith, which she will not know easily how to get over; though she can, ina flame so young, generously prefer the interest of a more excellentwoman to her own. --There, Harriet, is a grave paragraph: you'll like mefor it. 

You are a very reflecting girl, in mentioning to me, so particularly, your behaviour to your Grevilles, Fenwicks, and Ormes. What is that butsaying, See, Charlotte! I am a much more complacent creature to themen, no one of which I intend to have, than you are to your husband!

What a pious woman, indeed, must be your grandmamma, that she couldsuspend her joy, her long-absent darling at her feet, till she had firstthanked God for restoring her to her arms! But, in this instance, we seethe force of habitual piety. Though not so good as I should be myself, Irevere those who are so; and that I hope you will own is no bad sign. 

Well, but now for ourselves, and those about us. 

Lady Olivia has written a letter from Windsor to Lady L----. It is inFrench; extremely polite. She promises to write to me from Oxford. 

Lady Anne S---- made me a visit this morning. She was more concernedthan I wished to see her, on my confirming the report she had heard of mybrother's being gone abroad. I rallied her a little too freely, as itwas before Lord G---- and Lord L----. I never was better rebuked than byher; for she took out her pencil, and on the cover of a letter wrotethese lines from Shakespeare, and slid them into my hand:

 "And will you rend our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend? It is not friendly; 'tis not maidenly: Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury. "

I never, my dear, told you how freely this lady and I had talked of love:but, freely as we had talked, I was not aware that the matter lay so deepin her heart. I knew not how to tell her that my brother had said, itcould not be. I could have wept over her when I read this paper; and Iowned myself by a whisper justly rebuked. She charged me not to let anyman see this; particularly not either of those present: and do you, Harriet, keep what I have written of Lady Anne to yourself. 

My aunt Eleanor has written a congratulatory letter to me from York. SirCharles, it seems, had acquainted her with Lord G----'s day, [Not my day, Harriet! that is not the phrase, I hope!] as soon as he knew it himself;and she writes, supposing that I was actually offered on it. Women arevictims on these occasions: I hope you'll allow me that. My brother hasmade it a point of duty to acquaint his father's sister with every matterof consequence to the family; and now, she says, that both her nieces areso well disposed of, she will come to town very quickly to see her newrelations and us; and desires we will make room for her. And yet sheowns, that my brother has informed her of his being obliged to go abroad;and she supposes him gone. As he is the beloved of her heart, I wondershe thinks of making this visit now he is absent: but we shall all beglad to see my aunt Nell. She is a good creature, though an old maid. Ihope the old lady has not utterly lost either her invention, or memory;and then, between both, I shall be entertained with a great number oflove-stories of the last age; and perhaps of some dangers and escapes;which may serve for warnings for Emily. Alas! alas! they will come toolate for your Charlotte!

I have written already the longest letter that I ever wrote in my life:yet it is prating; and to you, to whom I love to prate. I have not neardone. 

You bid me be good; and you threaten me, if I am not, with the illopinion of all your friends: but I have such an unaccountable bias forroguery, or what shall I call it? that I believe it is impossible for meto take your advice. I have been examining myself. What a deuse is thematter with me, that I cannot see my honest man in the same advantageouslight in which he appears to everybody else? Yet I do not, in my heart, dislike him. On the contrary, I know not, were I to look about me, farand wide, the man I would have wished to have called mine, rather thanhim. But he is so important about trifles; so nimble, yet so slow: he isso sensible of his own intention to please, and has so many antic motionsin his obligingness; that I cannot forbear laughing at the very time thatI ought perhaps to reward him with a gracious approbation. 

I must fool on a little while longer, I believe: permit me, Harriet, soto do, as occasions arise. 

***

An instance, an instance in point, Harriet. Let me laugh as I write. Idid at the time. --What do you laugh at, Charlotte?--Why this poor man, or, as I should rather say, this lord and master of mine, has just leftme. He has been making me both a compliment, and a present. And what doyou think the compliment is? Why, if I please, he will give away to avirtuoso friend, his collection of moths and butterflies: I once, heremembered, rallied him upon them. And by what study, thought I, wiltthou, honest man, supply their place? If thou hast a talent this way, pursue it; since perhaps thou wilt not shine in any other. And the bestany thing, you know, Harriet, carries with it the appearance ofexcellence. Nay, he would also part with his collection of shells, if Ihad no objection. 

To whom, my lord?--He had not resolved. --Why then, only as Emily is toolittle of a child, or you might give them to her. 'Too little of achild, madam!' and a great deal of bustle and importance took possessionof his features--Let me tell you, madam--I won't let you, my lord; and Ilaughed. 

Well, madam, I hope here is something coming up that you will not disdainto accept of yourself. 

Up came groaning under the weight, or rather under the care, two servantswith baskets: a fine set of old Japan china with brown edges, believe me. They sat down their baskets, and withdrew. 

Would you not have been delighted, Harriet, to see my lord busyinghimself with taking out, and putting in the windows, one at a time, thecups, plates, jars, and saucers, rejoicing and parading over them, andshewing his connoisseurship to his motionless admiring wife, incommending this and the other piece as a beauty? And, when he had done, taking the liberty, as he phrased it, half fearful, half resolute, tosalute his bride for his reward; and then pacing backwards several steps, with such a strut and a crow--I see him yet!--Indulge me, Harriet!--Iburst into a hearty laugh; I could not help it: and he, reddening, lookedround himself, and round himself, to see if anything was amiss in hisgarb. The man, the man! honest friend, I could have said, (but had toomuch reverence for my husband, ) is the oddity! Nothing amiss in thegarb. I quickly recollected myself, however, and put him in a goodhumour, by proper marks of my gracious acceptance. On reflection, Icould not bear myself for vexing the honest man when he had meant tooblige me. 

How soon I may relapse again, I know not. --O Harriet! Why did youbeseech me to be good? I think in my heart I have the strongerinclination to be bad for it! You call me perverse: if you think me so, bid me be saucy, bid me be bad; and I may then, like other good wives, take the contrary course for the sake of dear contradiction. 

Shew not, however, (I in turn beseech you) to your grandmamma and aunt, such parts of this letter as would make them despise me. You say, youstand up for me; I have need of your advocateship: never let me want it. And do I not, after all, do a greater credit to my good man, when I canso heartily laugh in the wedded state, than if I were to sit down with myfinger in my eye?

I have taken your advice, and presented my sister with my half of thejewels. I desired her to accept them, as they were my mother's, and forher sake. This gave them a value with her, more than equal with theirworth: but Lord L---- is uneasy, and declares he will not suffer LadyL---- long to lie under the obligation. Were every one of family inSouth Britain and North Britain to be as generous and disinterested asLord L---- and our family, the union of the two parts of the island wouldbe complete. 

***

Lord help this poor obliging man! I wish I don't love him, at last. Hehas taken my hint, and has presented his collection of shells (a veryfine one, he says, it is) to Emily; and they two are actually busied (andwill be for an hour or two, I doubt not) in admiring them; the onestrutting over the beauties, in order to enhance the value of thepresent; the other courtesying ten times in a minute, to shew hergratitude. Poor man! When his virtuoso friend has got his butterfliesand moths, I am afraid he must set up a turner's shop, for employment. If he loved reading, I could, when our visiting hurries are over, set himto read to me the new things that come out, while I knot or work; and, ifhe loved writing, to copy the letters which pass between you and me, andthose for you which I expect with so much impatience from my brother bymeans of Dr. Bartlett. I think he spells pretty well, for a lord. 

I have no more to say, at present, but compliments, without number ormeasure, to all you so deservedly love and honour; as well those I havenot seen, as those I have. 

Only one thing: Reveal to me all the secrets of your heart, and how thatheart is from time to time affected; that I may know whether you arecapable of that greatness of mind in a love-case, that you shew in allothers. We will all allow you to love Sir Charles Grandison. Those whodo, give honour to themselves, if their eyes stop not at person, hishaving so many advantages. For the same reason, I make no apologies, andnever did, for praising my brother, as any other lover of him might do. 

Let me know every thing how and about your fellows, too. Ah! Harriet, you make not the use of power that I would have done in your situation. I was half-sorry when my hurrying brother made me dismiss Sir Walter; andyet, to have but two danglers after one, are poor doings for a fine lady. Poorer still, to have but one!

Here's a letter as long as my arm. Adieu. I was loath to come to thename: but defer it ever so long, I must subscribe, at last, CHARLOTTE G----. 

LETTER XXXVIII

MISS JERVOIS, TO MISS BYRON*MONDAY, MAY 1. 

* The letter to which this is an answer, as well as those written by MissByron to her cousin Reeves, Lady L----, &c. , and theirs in return, areomitted. 

O my dearest, my honoured Miss Byron, how you have shamed your Emily bysending a letter to her; such a sweet letter too! before I have paid myduty to you, in a letter of thanks for all your love to me, and for allyour kind instructions. But I began once, twice, and thrice, and wrote agreat deal each time, but could not please myself: you, madam, are such awriter, and I am such a poor thing at my pen!--But I know you will acceptthe heart. And so my very diffidence shews pride; since it cannot beexpected from me to be a fine writer: and yet this very letter, Iforesee, will be the worse for my diffidence, and not the better: for Idon't like this beginning, neither. --But come, it shall go. Am I notused to your goodness? And do you not bid me prattle to you, in myletters, as I used to do in your dressing-room? O what sweet advice haveyou, and do you return for my silly prate! And so I will begin. 

And was you grieved at parting with your Emily on Saturday morning? I amsure I was very much concerned at parting with you. I could not helpcrying all the way to town; and Lady G---- shed tears as well as I, andso did Lady L---- several times; and said, You were the loveliest, bestyoung lady in the world. And we all praised likewise your aunt, yourcousin Lucy, and young Mr. Selby. How good are all your relations! Theymust be good! And Lord L----, and Lord G----, for men, were as muchconcerned as we, at parting with you. Mr. Reeves was so dull all theway!--Poor Mr. Reeves, he was very dull. And Mr. Beauchamp, he praisedyou to the very skies; and in such a pretty manner too! Next to myguardian, I think Mr. Beauchamp is a very agreeable man. I fancy thesenoble sisters, if the truth were known, don't like him so well as theirbrother does: perhaps that may be the reason, out of jealousy, as I maysay, if there be any thing in my observation. But they are vastly civilto him, nevertheless; yet they never praise him when his back is turned;as they do others, who can't say half the good things that he says. 

Well, but enough of Mr. Beauchamp. My guardian! my gracious, my kind, myindulgent guardian! who, that thinks of him, can praise any body else?

O, madam! Where is he now? God protect and guide my guardian, whereverhe goes! This is my prayer, first and last, and I can't tell how oftenin the day. I look for him in every place I have seen him in; [And praytell me, madam, did not you do so when he had left us?] and when I can'tfind him, I do so sigh!--What a pleasure, yet what a pain, is there insighing, when I think of him! Yet I know I am an innocent girl. Andthis I am sure of, that I wish him to be the husband of but one woman inthe whole world; and that is you. But then my next wish is--You knowwhat--Ah, my Miss Byron! you must let me live with you and my guardian, if you should ever be Lady Grandison. 

But here, madam, are sad doings sometimes, between Lord and Lady G----. I am very angry at her often in my heart; yet I cannot help laughing, now and then, at her out-of-the-way sayings. Is not her character a verynew one? Or are there more such young wives? I could not do as shedoes, were I to be queen of the globe. Every body blames her. She willmake my lord not love her, at last. Don't you think so? And then whatwill she get by her wit?

***

Just this moment she came into my closet--Writing, Emily? said she: Towhom?--I told her. --Don't tell tales out of school, Emily. --I was soafraid that she would have asked to see what I had written: but she didnot. To be sure she is very polite, and knows what belongs to herself, and every body else: To be ungenerous, as you once said, to her husbandonly, that is a very sad thing to think of. 

Well, and I would give any thing to know if you think what I have writtentolerable, before I go any farther: But I will go on in this way, since Icannot do better. Bad is my best; but you shall have quantity, Iwarrant, since you bid me write long letters. 

But I have seen my mother: it was but yesterday. She was in a mercer'sshop in Covent Garden. I was in Lord L----'s chariot; only Anne was withme. Anne saw her first. I alighted, and asked her blessing in the shop:I am sure I did right. She blessed me, and called me dear love. Istayed till she had bought what she wanted, and then I slid down themoney, as if it were her own doing; and glad I was I had so much aboutme: It came but to four guineas. I begged her, speaking low, to forgiveme for so doing: And finding she was to go home as far as Soho, and hadthoughts of having a hackney coach called; I gave Anne money for a coachfor herself, and waited on my mother to her own lodgings; and it beingLord L----'s chariot, she was so good as to dispense with my alighting. 

She blessed my guardian all the way, and blessed me. She said, she wouldnot ask me to come to see her, because it might not be thought proper, asmy guardian was abroad: but she hoped, she might be allowed to come andsee me sometimes. --Was she not very good, madam? But my guardian'sgoodness makes every body good. --O that my mamma had been always thesame! I should have been but too happy!

God bless my guardian, for putting me on enlarging her power to livehandsomely. Only as a coach brings on other charges, and people mustlive accordingly, or be discredited, instead of credited, by it; or Ishould hope the additional two hundred a-year might afford them one. Yetone does not know but Mr. O'Hara may have been in debt before he marriedher; and I fancy he has people who hang upon him. But if it pleases God, I will not, when I am at age, and have a coach of my own, suffer mymother to walk on foot. What a blessing is it, to have a guardian thatwill second every good purpose of one's heart!

Lady Olivia is rambling about; and I suppose she will wait here inEngland till Sir Charles's return: but I am sure he never will have her. A wicked wretch, with her poniards! Yet it is pity! She is a finewoman. But I hate her for her expectation, as well as for her poniard. And a woman to leave her own country, to seek for a husband! I could diebefore I could do so! though to such a man as my guardian. Yet once Ithought I could have liked to have lived with her at Florence. She hassome good qualities, and is very generous, and in the main well esteemedin her own country; every body knew she loved my guardian: but I don'tknow how it is; nobody blamed her for it, vast as the difference infortune then was. But that is the glory of being a virtuous man; to lovehim is a credit, instead of a shame. O madam! Who would not bevirtuous? And that not only for their own, but for their friends sakes, if they loved their friends, and wished them to be well thought of?

Lord W---- is very desirous to hasten his wedding. 

Mr. Beauchamp says, that all the Mansfields (He knows them) bless myguardian every day of their lives; and their enemies tremble. He hascommissions from my guardian to inquire and act in their cause, that notime may be lost to do them service, against his return. 

We have had another visit from Lady Beauchamp, and have returned it. Sheis very much pleased with us: You see I say us. Indeed my two dearladies are very good to me; but I have no merit: it is all for theirbrother's sake. 

Mr. Beauchamp tells us, just now, that his mother-in-law has joined withhis father, at her own motion, to settle 1000£. A year upon him. I amglad of it, with all my heart: Are not you? He is all gratitude upon it. He says, that he will redouble his endeavours to oblige her; and that hisgratitude to her, as well as his duty to his father, will engage hisutmost regard for her. 

Mr. Beauchamp, Sir Harry himself, and my lady, are continually blessingmy guardian: Every body, in short, blesses him. --But, ah! madam, where ishe, at this moment? O that I were a bird! that I might hover over hishead, and sometimes bring tidings to his friends of his motions and gooddeeds. I would often flap my wings, dear Miss Byron, at your chamberwindow, as a signal of his welfare, and then fly back again, and perch asnear him as I could. 

I am very happy, as I said before, in the favour of Lady and Lord L----, and Lady and Lord G----; but I never shall be so happy, as when I had theaddition of your charming company. I miss you and my guardian: O, how Imiss you both! But, dearest Miss Byron, love me not the less, though nowI have put pen to paper, and you see what a poor creature I am in mywriting. Many a one, I believe, may be thought tolerable inconversation; but when they are so silly as to put pen to paper, theyexpose themselves; as I have done, in this long piece of scribble. Butaccept it, nevertheless, for the true love I bear you; and a truer lovenever flamed in any bosom, to any one the most dearly beloved, than doesin mine for you. 

I am afraid I have written arrant nonsense, because I knew not how toexpress half the love that is in the heart of

Your ever-obliged and affectionateEMILY JERVOIS. 

LETTER XXXIX

MISS BYRON, TO LADY G----TUESDAY, MAY 2. 

I have no patience with you, Lady G----. You are ungenerously playful!Thank Heaven, if this be wit, that I have none of it. But what signifiesexpostulating with one who knows herself to be faulty, and will notamend? How many stripes, Charlotte, do you deserve?--But you neverspared any body, not even your brother, when the humour was upon you. Somake haste; and since you will lay in stores for repentance, fill up yourmeasure as fast as you can. 

'Reveal to you the state of my heart!'--Ah, my dear! it is anunmanageable one. 'Greatness of mind!'--I don't know what it is!--Allhis excellencies, his greatness, his goodness, his modesty, hischeerfulness under such afflictions as would weigh down every other heartthat had but half the compassion in it with which his overflows--Must notall other men appear little, and, less than little, nothing, in my eyes?--It is an instance of patience in me, that I can endure any of them whopretend to regard me out of my own family. 

I thought, that when I got down to my dear friends here, I should bebetter enabled, by their prudent counsels, to attain the desirable frameof mind which I had promised myself: but I find myself mistaken. Mygrandmamma and aunt are such admirers of him, take such a share in thedisappointment, that their advice has not the effect I had hoped it wouldhave. Lucy, Nancy, are perpetually calling upon me to tell themsomething of Sir Charles Grandison; and when I begin, I know not how toleave off. My uncle rallies me, laughs at me, sometimes reminds me ofwhat he calls my former brags. I did not brag, my dear: I only hoped, that respecting as I did every man according to his merit, I should neverbe greatly taken with any one, before duty added force to theinclination. Methinks the company of the friends I am with, does notsatisfy me; yet they never were dearer to me than they now are. I wantto have Lord and Lady L----, Lord and Lady G----, Dr. Bartlett, my Emily, with me. To lose you all at once!--is hard!--There seems to be a strangevoid in my heart--And so much, at present, for the state of that heart. 

I always had reason to think myself greatly obliged to my friends andneighbours all around us; but never, till my return, after these fewmonths absence, knew how much. So many kind visitors; such unaffectedexpressions of joy on my return; that had I not a very greatcounterbalance on my heart, would be enough to make me proud. 

My grandmamma went to Shirley-manor on Saturday; on Monday I was with herall day: but she would have it that I should be melancholy if I staidwith her. And she is so self-denyingly careful of her Harriet! Therenever was a more noble heart in woman. But her solitary moments, as myuncle calls them, are her moments of joy. And why? Because she thendivests herself of all that is either painful or pleasurable to her inthis life: for she says, that her cares for her Harriet, and especiallynow, are at least a balance for the delight she takes in her. 

You command me to acquaint you with what passes between me and thegentlemen in my neighbourhood; in your style, my fellows. 

Mr. Fenwick invited himself to breakfast with my aunt Selby yesterdaymorning. I would not avoid him. 

I will not trouble you with the particulars: you know well enough whatmen will say on the subject upon which you will suppose he wanted to talkto me. He was extremely earnest. I besought him to accept my thanks forhis good opinion of me, as all the return I could make him for it; andthis in so very serious a manner, that my heart was fretted, when hedeclared, with warmth, his determined perseverance. 

Mr. Greville made us a tea-visit in the afternoon. My uncle and hejoined to rally us poor women, as usual. I left the defence of the sexto my aunt and Lucy. How poor appears to me every conversation now withthese men!--But hold, saucy Harriet, was not your uncle Selby one of theraillers?--But he does not believe all he says; and therefore cannotwish to be so much regarded, on this topic, as he ought to be by me, onothers. 

After the run of raillery was over, in which Mr. Greville made exceptionsfavourable to the women present, he applied to every one for theirinterest with me, and to me to countenance his address. He set forth hispretensions very pompously, and mentioned a very considerable increase ofhis fortune; which before was a very handsome one. He offered our ownterms. He declared his love for me above all women, and made hishappiness in the next world, as well as in this, depend upon my favour tohim. 

It was easy to answer all he said; and is equally so for you to guess inwhat manner I answered him: And he, finding me determined, began to growvehement, and even affrontive. He hinted to me, that he knew what hadmade me so very resolute. He threw out threatenings against the man, behe whom he would, that should stand in the way of his success with me; atthe same time intimating saucily, as I may say, (for his manner hadinsult in it, ) that it was impossible a certain event could ever takeplace. 

My uncle was angry with him; so was my aunt: Lucy was still more angrythan they: but I, standing up, said, Pray, my dear friends, take nothingamiss that Mr. Greville has said. --He once told me, that he would setspies upon my conduct in town. If, sir, your spies have been just, Ifear nothing they can say. But the hints you have thrown out, shew sucha total want of all delicacy of mind, that you must not wonder if myheart rejects you. Yet I am not angry: I reproach you not: Every one hashis peculiar way. All that is left me to say or to do, is to thank youfor your favourable opinion of me, as I have thanked Mr. Fenwick; and todesire that you will allow me to look upon you as my neighbour, and onlyas 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 wereinvited by my aunt to dinner on Tuesday. They came. Poor man! He isnot well! I am sorry for it. Poor Mr. Orme is not well! He made mesuch honest compliments, as I may say: his heart was too much in hiscivilities to raise them above the civilities that justice and truthmight warrant in favour of a person highly esteemed. Mine was filledwith compassion for him; and that compassion would have shewn itself intokens of tenderness, more than once, had I not restrained myself for hissake. How you, my dear Lady G----, can delight in giving pain to anhonest heart, I cannot imagine. I would make all God Almighty'screatures happy, if I could; and so would your noble brother. Is he notcrossing dangerous seas, and ascending, through almost perpetual snows, those dreadful Alps which I have heard described with such terror, forthe generous end of relieving distress?

I made Mr. Orme sit next me. I was assiduous to help him, and to do himall the little offices which I thought would light up pleasure in hismodest countenance; and he was quite another man. It gave delight to hissister, and to all my friends, to see him smile, and look happy. 

I think, my dear Lady G----, that when Mr. Orme looks pleasant, and atease, he resembles a little the good-natured Lord G----. O that youwould take half the pains to oblige him, that I do to relieve Mr. Orme!--Half the pains, did I say? That you would not take pains to dis-obligehim; and he would be, of course, obliged. Don't be afraid, my dear, that, in such a world as this, things will not happen to make you uneasywithout your studying for them. 

Excuse my seriousness: I am indeed too serious, at times. 

But when Mr. Orme requested a few minutes' audience of me, as he calledit, and I walked with him into the cedar parlour, which you have heard memention, and with which I hope you will be one day acquainted; he paid, poor man! for his too transient pleasure. Why would he urge a denialthat he could not but know I must give?

His sister and I had afterwards a conference. She pleaded too stronglyher brother's health, and even his life; both which, she would have it, depended on my favour to him. I was greatly affected; and at lastbesought her, if she valued my friendship as I did hers, never more tomention to me a subject which gave me a pain too sensible for my peace. 

She requested me to assure her, that neither Mr. Greville, nor Mr. Fenwick, might be the man. They both took upon them, she said, toridicule her brother for the profound respect, even to reverence, that hebore me; which, if he knew, might be attended with consequences: for thather brother, mild and gentle as was his passion for me, had courage toresent any indignities that might be cast upon him by spirits boisterousas were those of the two gentlemen she had named. She never, therefore, told her brother of their scoffs. But it would go to her heart, ifeither of them should succeed, or have reason but for a distant hope. 

I made her heart easy, on that score. 

I have just now heard, that Sir Hargrave Pollexfen is come from abroadalready. What can be the meaning of it? He is so low-minded, somalicious a man, and I have suffered so much from him--What can be themeaning of his sudden return? I am told, that he is actually in London. Pray, my dear Lady G----, inform yourself about him; and whether hethinks of coming into these parts. 

Mr. Greville, when he met us at Stoney-Stratford, threw out menacesagainst Sir Hargrave, on my account; and said, It was well he was goneabroad. I told him then, that he had no business, even were Sir Hargravepresent, to engage himself in my quarrels. 

Mr. Greville is an impetuous man; a man of rough manners; and makes manypeople afraid of him. He has, I believe, indeed, had his spies about me;for he seems to know every thing that has befallen me in my absence fromSelby House. 

He has dared also to threaten somebody else. Insolent wretch! But hehinted to me yesterday, that he was exceedingly pleased with the news, that a certain gentleman was gone abroad, in order to prosecute a formeramour, was the light wretch's as light expression. If my indignant eyescould have killed him, he would have fallen dead at my feet. 

Let the constant and true respects of all my friends to you and yours, and to my beloved Emily, be always, for the future, considered as veryaffectionately expressed, whether the variety of other subjects leavesroom for a particular expression of them, or not, by, my dearest LadyG----, Your faithful, and ever-obligedHARRIET BYRON. 

LETTER XL

LADY G----, TO MISS BYRONSATURDAY, MAY 6. 

I thank you, Harriet, for yours. What must your fellows think of you?In this gross age, your delicacy must astonish them. There used to bemore of it formerly. But how should men know any thing of it, when womenhave forgot it? Lord be thanked, we females, since we have been admittedinto so constant a share of the public diversions, want not courage. Wecan give the men stare for stare wherever we meet them. The next age, nay, the rising generation, must surely be all heroes and heroines. Butwhither has this word delicacy carried me? Me, who, it seems, havefaults to be corrected for of another sort; and who want not the couragefor which I congratulate others?

But to other subjects. I could write a vast deal of stuff about my lordand self, and Lord and Lady L----, who assume parts which I know not howto allow them: and sometimes they threaten me with my brother'sresentments, sometimes with my Harriet's; so that I must really haveleading-strings fastened to my shoulders. O, my dear, a fond husband isa surfeiting thing; and yet I believe most women love to be made monkeysof. 

***

But all other subjects must now give way. We have heard of, though notfrom, my brother. A particular friend of Mr. Lowther was here with aletter from that gentleman, acquainting us, that Sir Charles and he werearrived at Paris. 

Mr. Beauchamp was with us when Mr. Lowther's friend came. He borrowedthe letter on account of the extraordinary adventure mentioned in it. 

Make your heart easy, in the first place, about Sir Hargrave. He isindeed in town; but very ill. He was frightened into England, andintends not ever again to quit it. In all probability, he owes it to mybrother that he exists. 

Mr. Beauchamp went directly to Cavendish-square, and informed himselfthere of other particulars relating to the affair, from the very servantwho was present, and acting in it; and from those particulars, and Mr. Lowther's letter, wrote one for Dr. Bartlett. Mr. Beauchamp obliged mewith the perusal of what he wrote; whence I have extracted the followingaccount: for his letter is long and circumstantial; and I did not ask hisleave to take a copy, as he seemed desirous to hasten it to the doctor. 

On Wednesday, the 19-30 of April, in the evening, as my brother waspursuing his journey to Paris, and was within two miles of that capital, a servant-man rode up, in visible terror, to his post-chaise, in whichwere Mr. Lowther and himself, and besought them to hear his dreadfultale. The gentlemen stopt, and he told them, that his master, who was anEnglishman, and his friend of the same nation, had been but a littlewhile before attacked, and forced out of the road in their post-chaise, as he doubted not, to be murdered, by no less than seven armed horsemen;and he pointed to a hill, at distance, called Mont Matre, behind whichthey were, at that moment, perpetrating their bloody purpose. He hadjust before, he said, addressed himself to two other gentlemen, and theirretinue, who drove on the faster for it. 

The servant's great coat was open; and Sir Charles observing his livery, asked him, If he were not a servant of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen? and wasanswered in the affirmative. 

There are, it seems, trees planted on each side the road from St. Denisto Paris, but which, as France is an open and uninclosed country, wouldnot, but for the hill, have hindered the seeing a great way off, thescuffling of so many men on horseback. There is also a ditch on eitherhand; but places left for owners to come at their grounds, with theircarts, and other carriages. Sir Charles ordered the post boy to drive toone of those passages; saying, He could not forgive himself, if he didnot endeavour to save Sir Hargrave, and his friend, whose name the mantold him was Merceda. 

His own servants were three in number, besides one of Mr. Lowther. Mybrother made Mr. Lowther's servant dismount; and, getting himself on hishorse, ordered the others to follow him. He begged Mr. Lowther tocontinue in the chaise, bidding the dismounted servant stay, and attendhis master, and galloped away towards the hill. His ears were soonpierced with the cries of the poor wretches; and presently he saw two menon horseback holding the horses of four others, who had under them thetwo gentlemen, struggling, groaning, and crying out for mercy. 

Sir Charles, who was a good way a-head of his servants, calling out tospare the gentlemen, and bending his course to relieve the prostratesufferers, two of the four quitted their prey, and mounting, joined theother two horsemen, and advanced to meet him, with a shew of supportingthe two men on foot in their violence; who continued laying on thewretches, with the but-ends of their whips, unmercifully. 

As the assailants offered not to fly, and as they had more than timeenough to execute their purpose, had it been robbery and murder; SirCharles concluded it was likely that these men were actuated by a privaterevenge. He was confirmed in this surmise, when the four men onhorseback, though each had his pistol ready drawn, as Sir Charles alsohad his, demanded a conference; warning Sir Charles how he provoked hisfate by his rashness; and declaring, that he was a dead man if he fired. 

Forbear, then, said Sir Charles, all further violences to the gentlemen, and I will hear what you have to say. 

He then put his pistol into his holster; and one of his servants beingcome up, and the two others at hand, (to whom he called out, not to firetill they had his orders, ) he gave him his horse's reins; bidding himhave an eye on the holsters of both, and leapt down; and, drawing hissword, made towards the two men who were so cruelly exercising theirwhips; and who, on his approach, retired to some little distance, drawingtheir hangers. 

The four men on horseback joined the two on foot, just as they werequitting the objects of their fury; and one of them said, Forbear, forthe present, further violence, brother; the gentleman shall be told thecause of all this. --Murder, sir, said he, is not intended; nor are werobbers: the men whom you are solicitous to save from our vengeance, arevillains. 

Be the cause what it will, answered Sir Charles, you are in a countrynoted for doing speedy justice, upon proper application to themagistrates. In the same instant he raised first one groaning man, thenthe other. Their heads were all over bloody, and they were so muchbruised, that they could not extend their arms to reach their wigs andhats, which lay near them; nor put them on without Sir Charles's help. 

The men on foot by this time had mounted their horses, and all six stoodupon their defence; but one of them was so furious, crying out, that hisvengeance should be yet more complete, that two of the others couldhardly restrain him. 

Sir Charles asked Sir Hargrave and Mr. Merceda, Whether they had reasonto look upon themselves as injured men, or injurers? One of theassailants answered, That they both knew themselves to be villains. 

Either from consciousness, or terror, perhaps from both, they could notspeak for themselves, but by groans; nor could either of them stand orsit upright. 

Just then came up, in the chaise, Mr. Lowther and his servant, each apistol in his hand. He quitted the chaise, when he came near thesuffering men; and Sir Charles desired him instantly to examine whetherthe gentlemen were dangerously hurt, or not. 

The most enraged of the assailants, having slipt by the two who wereearnest to restrain him, would again have attacked Mr. Merceda; offeringa stroke at him with his hanger: but Sir Charles (his drawn sword stillin his hand) caught hold of his bridle; and, turning his horse's headaside, diverted a stroke, which, in all probability, would otherwise havebeen a finishing one. 

They all came about Sir Charles, bidding him, at his peril, use his swordupon their friend: and Sir Charles's servants were coming up to theirmaster's support, had there been occasion. At that instant Mr. Lowther, assisted by his own servant, was examining the wounds and bruises of thetwo terrified men, who had yet no reason to think themselves safe fromfurther violence. 

Sir Charles repeatedly commanded his servants not to fire, nor approachnearer, without his orders. The persons, said he, to the assailants, whom you have so cruelly used, are Englishmen of condition. I willprotect them. Be the provocation what it will, you must know that yourattempt upon them is a criminal one; and if my friend last come up, whois a very skilful surgeon, shall pronounce them in danger, you shall findit so. 

Still he held the horse of the furious one; and three of them who seemedto be principals, were beginning to express some resentment at hiscavalier treatment, when Mr. Lowther gave his opinion, that there was noapparent danger of death: and then Sir Charles, quitting the man'sbridle, and putting himself between the assailants and sufferers, said, That as they had not either offered to fly, or to be guilty of violenceto himself, his friend, or servants; he was afraid they had some reasonto think themselves ill used by the gentlemen. But, however, as theycould not suppose they were at liberty, in a civilized country, to taketheir revenge on the persons of those who were entitled to the protectionof that country; he should expect, that they would hold themselves to bepersonally answerable for their conduct at a proper tribunal. 

The villains, one of the men said, knew who they were, and what theprovocation was; which had merited a worse treatment than they hadhitherto met with. You, sir, proceeded he, seem to be a man of honour, and temper: we are men of honour, as well as you. Our design, as we toldyou, was not to kill the miscreants; but to give them reason to remembertheir villainy as long as they lived; and to put it out of their powerever to be guilty of the like. They have made a vile attempt, continuedhe, on a lady's honour at Abbeville; and, finding themselves detected, and in danger, took roundabout ways, and shifted from one vehicle toanother, to escape the vengeance of her friends. The gentleman, whosehorse you held, and who has reason to be in a passion, is the husband ofthe lady. [A Spanish husband, surely, Harriet; not a French one, according to our notions. ] That gentleman, and that, are her brothers. We have been in pursuit of them two days; for they gave out, (in order, no doubt, to put us on a wrong scent, ) that they were to go to Antwerp. 

And it seems, my dear, that Sir Hargrave and his colleague had actuallysent some of their servants that way; which was the reason that they werethemselves attended but by one. 

The gentleman told Sir Charles that there was a third villain in theirplot. They had hopes, he said, that he would not escape the closepursuit of a manufacturer at Abbeville, whose daughter, a lovely youngcreature, he had seduced, under promises of marriage. Their government, he observed, were great countenancers of the manufacturers at Abbeville;and he would have reason, if he were laid hold of, to think himselfhappy, if he came off with being obliged to perform his promises. 

This third wretch must be Mr. Bagenhall. The Lord grant, say I, that hemay be laid hold of; and obliged to make a ruined girl an honest woman, as they phrase it in LANCASHIRE. Don't you wish so, my dear? And let meadd, that had the relations of the injured lady completed their intendedvengeance on those two libertines; (a very proper punishment, I ween, forall libertines;) it might have helped them to pass the rest of theirlives with great tranquillity; and honest girls might, for anycontrivances of theirs, have passed to and from masquerades withoutmolestation. 

Sir Hargrave and his companion intended, it seems, at first, to make someresistance; four only, of the seven, stopping the chaise: but when theother three came up, and they saw who they were, and knew their ownguilt, their courage failed them. 

The seventh man was set over the post-boy, whom he had led about half amile from the spot they had chosen as a convenient one for their purpose. 

Sir Hargrave's servant was secured by them at their first attack; butafter they had disarmed him and his masters, he found an opportunity toslip from them, and made the best of his way to the road, in hopes ofprocuring assistance for them. 

While Sir Charles was busy in helping the bruised wretches on their feet, the seventh man came up to the others, followed by Sir Hargrave's chaise. The assailants had retired to some distance, and, after a consultationtogether, they all advanced towards Sir Charles; who, bidding hisservants be on their guard, leapt on his horse, with that agility andpresence of mind, for which, Mr. Beauchamp says, he excels most men; andleading towards them, Do you advance, gentlemen, said he, as friends, orotherwise?--Mr. Lowther took a pistol in each hand, and held himselfready to support him; and the servants disposed themselves to obey theirmaster's orders. 

Our enmity, answered one of them, is only to these two inhospitablevillains: murder, as we told you, was not our design. They know where weare to be found; and that they are the vilest of men, and have not beenpunished equal to their demerits. Let them on their knees ask thisgentleman's pardon; pointing to the husband of the insulted lady. Weinsist upon this satisfaction; and upon their promise, that they nevermore will come within two leagues of Abbeville; and we will leave them toyour protection. I fancy, Harriet, that these women-frightening heroesneeded not to have been urged to make this promise. 

Sir Charles, turning towards them, said, If you have done wrong, gentlemen, you ought not to scruple asking pardon. If you knowyourselves to be innocent, though I should be loath to risk the lives ofmy friend and servants, yet shall not my countrymen make so undue asubmission. 

The wretches kneeled; and the seven men, civilly saluting Sir Charles andMr. Lowther, rode off; to the joy of the two delinquents, who kneeledagain to their deliverer, and poured forth blessings upon the man whoselife, so lately, one of them sought; and whose preservation he had now somuch reason to rejoice in, for the sake of his own safety. 

My brother himself could not but be well pleased that he was not obligedto come to extremities, which might have ended fatally on both sides. 

By this time Sir Hargrave's post-chaise was come up. He and hiscolleague were with difficulty lifted into it. My brother and Mr. Lowther went into theirs; and being but a small distance from Paris, theyproceeded thither in company; the poor wretches blessing them all theway; and at Paris found their other servants waiting for them. 

Sir Charles and Mr. Lowther saw them in bed in the lodgings that had beentaken for them. They were so stiff with the bastinado they had met with, that they were unable to help themselves. Mr. Merceda had been moreseverely (I cannot call it more cruelly) treated than the other; for he, it seems, was the greatest malefactor in the attempt made upon the lady:and he had, besides, two or three gashes, which, but for his struggles, would have been but one. 

As you, my dear, always turn pale when the word masquerade is mentioned;so, I warrant, will ABBEVILLE be a word of terror to these wretches, aslong as they live. 

Their enemies, it seems, carried off their arms; perhaps, in the truespirit of French chivalry, with a view to lay them, as so many trophies, at the feet of the insulted lady. 

Mr. Lowther writes, that my brother and he are lodged in the hotel of aman of quality, a dear friend of the late Mr. Danby, and one of the threewhom he has remembered in his will; and that Sir Charles is extremelybusy in relation to the executorship; and, having not a moment to spare, desired Mr. Lowther to engage his friend, to whom he wrote, to let usknow as much; and that he was hastening every thing for his journeyonwards. 

Mr. Beauchamp's narrative of this affair is, as I told you, verycircumstantial. I thought to have shortened it more than I have done. Iwish I have not made my abstract confused, in several material places:but I have not time to clear it up. Adieu, my dear. 

CHARLOTTE G----. 

LETTER XLI

LADY G----, TO MISS BYRONSUNDAY, MAY 7. 

I believe I shall become as arrant a scribbler as somebody else. I beginto like writing. A great compliment to you, I assure you. I see one maybring one's mind to any thing. --I thought I must have had recourse, whenyou and my brother left us, and when I was married, to the publicamusements, to fill up my leisure: and as I have seen every thing worthseeing of those, many times over; (masquerades excepted, and them Idespise;) time, you know, in that case, would have passed a littleheavily, after having shewn myself, and, by seeing who and who weretogether, laid in a little store of the right sort of conversation forthe tea-table. For you know, Harriet, that among us modern fine people, the company, and not the entertainment, is the principal part of theraree-show. Pretty enough! to make the entertainment, and pay for ittoo, to the honest fellows, who have nothing to do, but to projectschemes to get us together. 

I don't know what to do with this man. I little thought that I was to beconsidered as such a doll, such a toy, as he would make me. I want todrive him out of the house without me, were it but to purvey for me newsand scandal. What are your fine gentlemen fit for else? You know, that, with all my faults, I have a domestic and managing turn. A man shouldencourage that in a wife, and not be perpetually teasing her for hercompany abroad, unless he did it with a view to keep her at home. Oursex don't love to be prescribed to, even in the things from which theyare not naturally averse: and for this very reason, perhaps, because itbecomes us to submit to prescription. Human nature, Harriet, is aperverse thing. I believe, if my good man wished me to stay at home, Ishould torture my brain, as other good wives do, for inventions to goabroad. 

It was but yesterday, that in order to give him a hint, I pinned my apronto his coat, without considering who was likely to be a sufferer by it;and he, getting up, in his usual nimble way, gave it a rent, and thenlooked behind him with so much apprehension--Hands folded, eyes goggling, bag in motion from shoulder to shoulder. I was vexed too much to makethe use of the trick which I had designed, and huffed him. He madeexcuses, and looked pitifully; bringing in his soul, to testify that heknew not how it could be. How it could be! Wretch! When you are alwayssquatting upon one's clothes, in defiance of hoop, or distance. 

He went out directly, and brought me in two aprons, either of which wasworth twenty of that he so carelessly rent. Who could be angry with him?--I was, indeed, thinking to chide him for this--As if I were not to betrusted to buy my own clothes; but he looked at me with so good-naturedan eye, that I relented, and accepted, with a bow of graciousness, hispresent; only calling him an odd creature--And that he is, you know, mydear. 

We live very whimsically, in the main: not above four quarrels, however, and as many more chidings, in a day. What does the man stay at home forthen so much, when I am at home?--Married people, by frequent absences, may have a chance for a little happiness. How many debatings, if notdirect quarrels, are saved by the good man's and his meek wife's seeingeach other but once or twice a week! In what can men and women, who aremuch together, employ themselves, but in proving and defending, quarrelling and making up? Especially if they both chance to marry forlove (which, thank Heaven, is not altogether my case); for then bothhonest souls, having promised more happiness to each other than they canpossibly meet with, have nothing to do but reproach each other, at leasttacitly, for their disappointment--A great deal of free-masonry in love, my dear, believe me! The secret, like that, when found out, is hardlyworth the knowing. 

Well, but what silly rattle is this, Charlotte! methinks you say, and puton one of your wisest looks. 

No matter, Harriet! There may be some wisdom in much folly. Every onespeaks not out so plainly as I do. But when the novelty of anacquisition or change of condition is over, be the change or theacquisition what it will, the principal pleasure is over, and othernovelties are hunted after, to keep the pool of life from stagnating. 

This is a serious truth, my dear, and I expect you to praise me for it. You are very sparing of your praise to poor me; and yet I had rather haveyour good word, than any woman's in the world: or man's either, I wasgoing to say; but I should then have forgot my brother. As for LordG----, were I to accustom him to obligingness, I should destroy my ownconsequence: for then it would be no novelty; and he would be huntingafter a new folly. --Very true, Harriet. 

Well, but we have had a good serious falling-out; and it still subsists. It began on Friday night; present, Lord and Lady L----, and Emily. I wasvery angry with him for bringing it on before them. The man has nodiscretion, my dear; none at all. And what about? Why, we have not madeour appearance at court, forsooth. 

A very confident thing, this same appearance, I think! A compliment madeto fine clothes and jewels, at the expense of modesty. 

Lord G---- pleads decorum--Decorum against modesty, my dear!--But if bydecorum is meant fashion, I have in a hundred instances found decorumbeat modesty out of the house. And as my brother, who would have beenour principal honour on such an occasion, is gone abroad; and as ours isan elderly novelty, as I may say, [Our fineries were not ready, you know, before my brother went, ] I was fervent against it. 

'I was the only woman of condition, in England, who would be against it. '

I told my lord, that was a reflection on my sex: but Lord and Lady L----, who had been spoken to, I believe, by Lady Gertrude, were both on hisside--[I shall have this man utterly ruined for a husband among you]--When there were three to one, it would have looked cowardly to yield, youknow. I was brave. But it being proposed for Sunday, and that being ata little distance, it was not doubted but I would comply. So the nightpassed off, with prayings, hopings, and a little mutteration. [Allow methat word, or find me a better. ] The entreaty was renewed in themorning; but, no!--'I was ashamed of him, ' he said. I asked him if hereally thought so?--'He should think so, if I refused him. ' Heavenforbid, my lord, that I, who contend for the liberty of acting, shouldhinder you from the liberty of thinking! Only one piece of advice, honest friend, said I: don't imagine the worst against yourself: andanother, if you have a mind to carry a point with me, don't bring on thecause before any body else: for that would be to doubt either my duty, oryour own reasonableness. 

As sure as you are alive, Harriet, the man made an exception againstbeing called honest friend; as if, as I told him, either of the wordswere incompatible with quality. So, once, he was as froppish as a child, on my calling him the man; a higher distinction, I think, than if I hadcalled him a king, or a prince. THE MAN!--Strange creature! To except toa distinction that implies, that he is the man of men!--You see what acaptious mortal I have been forced to call my lord. But lord and masterdo not always go together; though they do too often, for the happiness ofmany a meek soul of our sex. 

Well, this debate seemed suspended, by my telling him, that if I werepresented at court, I would not have either the Earl or Lady Gertrude gowith us, the very people who were most desirous to be there--But I mightnot think of that, at the time, you know--I would not be thought veryperverse; only a little whimsical, or so. And I wanted not an excellentreason for excluding them--'Are their consents to our past affairdoubted, my lord, said I, that you think it necessary for them to appearto justify us?'

He could say nothing to this, you know. And I should never forgive thehusband, as I told him, on another occasion, who would pretend to argue, when he had nothing to say. 

Then (for the baby will be always craving something) he wanted me to goabroad with him--I forget whither--But to some place that he supposed(poor man!) I should like to visit. I told him, I dared to say, hewished to be thought a modern husband, and a fashionable man; and hewould get a bad name, if he could never stir out without his wife. Neither could he answer that, you know. 

Well, we went on, mutter, mutter, grumble, grumble, the thunder rollingat a distance; a little impatience now and then, however, portending, that it would come nearer. But, as yet, it was only, Pray, my dear, oblige me; and, Pray, my lord, excuse me; till this morning, when he hadthe assurance to be pretty peremptory; hinting, that the lord in waitinghad been spoken to. A fine time of it would a wife have, if she were notat liberty to dress herself as she pleases. Were I to choose again, I doassure you, my dear, it should not be a man, who by his taste for mothsand butterflies, shells, china, and such-like trifles, would give mewarning, that he would presume to dress his baby, and when he had done, would perhaps admire his own fancy more than her person. I believe, myHarriet, I shall make you afraid of matrimony: but I will pursue mysubject, for all that--

When the insolent saw that I did not dress, as he would have had me; hedrew out his face, glouting, to half the length of my arm; but wassilent. Soon after Lady L---- sending to know whether her lord and shewere to attend us to the drawing-room, and I returning for answer, that Ishould be glad of their company at dinner; he was in violent wrath. True, as you are alive! and dressing himself in a great hurry, left thehouse, without saying, By your leave, With your leave, or whether hewould return to dinner, or not. Very pretty doings, Harriet!

Lord and Lady L---- came to dinner, however. I thought they were verykind, and, till they opened their lips, was going to thank them: forthen, it was all elder sister, and insolent brother-in-law, I do assureyou. Upon my word, Harriet, they took upon them. Lady L---- told me, Imight be the happiest creature in the world, if--and there was so good asto stop. 

One of the happiest only, Lady L----! Who can be happier than you?

But I, said she, should neither be so, nor deserve to be so, if--Good ofher again, to stop at if. 

We cannot be all of one mind, replied I. I shall be wiser, in time. 

Where was poor Lord G---- gone?

Poor Lord G---- is gone to seek his fortune, I believe. 

What did I mean?

I told them the airs he had given himself; and that he was gone withoutleave, or notice of return. 

He had served me right, ab-solutely right, Lord L---- said. 

I believed so myself. Lord G---- was a very good sort of man, and oughtnot to bear with me so much as he had done: but it would be kind in them, not to tell him what I had owned. 

The earl lifted up one hand; the countess both. They had not come todine with me, they said, after the answer I had returned, but as theywere afraid something was wrong between us. 

Mediators are not to be of one side only, I said: and as they had been sokindly free in blaming me, I hoped they would be as free with him, whenthey saw him. 

And then it was, For God's sake, Charlotte; and, Let me entreat you, LadyG----. And let me, too, beseech you, madam, said Emily, with tearsstealing down her cheeks. 

You are both very good: you are a sweet girl, Emily. I have atoo-playful heart. It will give me some pain, and some pleasure; but ifI had not more pleasure than pain from my play, I should not be so silly. 

My lord not coming in, and the dinner being ready, I ordered it to beserved. --Won't you wait a little longer for Lord G----? No. I hope heis safe, and well. He is his own master, as well as mine; (I sighed, Ibelieve!) and, no doubt, has a paramount pleasure in pursuing his ownchoice. 

They raved. I begged that they would let us eat our dinner with comfort. My lord, I hoped, would come in with a keen appetite, and Nelthorpeshould get a supper for him that he liked. 

When we had dined, and retired into the adjoining drawing-room, I hadanother schooling-bout: Emily was even saucy. But I took it all: yet, inmy heart, was vexed at Lord G----'s perverseness. 

At last, in came the honest man. He does not read this, and so cannottake exceptions, and I hope you will not, at the word honest. 

So lordly! so stiff! so solemn!--Upon my word!--Had it not been Sunday, Iwould have gone to my harpsichord directly. He bowed to Lord and LadyL----, and to Emily, very obligingly; to me he nodded. --I nodded again;but, like a good-natured fool, smiled. He stalked to the chimney; turnedhis back towards it, buttoned up his mouth, held up his glowing face, asif he were disposed to crow; yet had not won the battle. --One hand in hisbosom; the other under the skirt of his waistcoat, and his posture firmerthan his mind. --Yet was my heart so devoid of malice, that I thought hisattitude very genteel; and, had we not been man and wife, agreeable. 

We hoped to have found your lordship at home, said Lord L----, or weshould not have dined here. 

If Lord G---- is as polite a husband as a man, said I, he will not thankyour lordship for this compliment to his wife. 

Lord G---- swelled, and reared himself up. His complexion, which wasbefore in a glow, was heightened. 

Poor man! thought I. --But why should my tender heart pity obstinatepeople?--Yet I could not help being dutiful. --Have you dined, my lord?said I, with a sweet smile, and very courteous. 

He stalked to the window, and never a word answered he. 

Pray, Lady L----, be so good as to ask my Lord G---- if he has dined?Was not this very condescending, on such a behaviour?

Lady L---- asked him; and as gently-voiced as if she were asking the samequestion of her own lord. Lady L---- is a kind-hearted soul, Harriet. She is my sister. 

I have not, madam, to Lady L----, turning rudely from me, and, not verycivilly, from her. Ah! thought I, these men! The more they are courted--Wretches! to find their consequence in a woman's meekness--Yet, I couldnot forbear shewing mine. --Nature, Harriet! Who can resist constitution?

What stiff airs are these! approaching him. --I do assure you, my lord, Ishall not take this behaviour well; and put my hand on his arm. 

I was served right. Would you believe it? The man shook off mycondescending hand, by raising his elbow scornfully. He really did!

Nay, then!--I left him, and retired to my former seat. I was vexed thatit was Sunday: I wanted a little harmony. 

Lord and Lady L---- both blamed me, by their looks; and my lady took myhand, and was leading me towards him. I shewed a little reluctance: and, would you have thought it? out of the drawing-room whipt my nimble lord, as if on purpose to avoid being moved by my concession. 

I took my place again. 

I beg of you, Charlotte, said Lady L----, go to my lord. You have usedhim ill. 

When I think so, I will follow your advice, Lady L----. 

And don't you think so, Lady G----? said Lord L----. 

What! for taking my own option how I would be dressed to-day?--What! fordeferring--That moment in came my bluff lord--Have I not, proceeded I, been forced to dine without him to-day? Did he let me know what accountI could give of his absence? Or when he would return?--And see, now, howangry he looks!

He traversed the room--I went on--Did he not shake off my hand, when Ilaid it, smiling, on his arm? Would he answer me a question, which Ikindly put to him, fearing he had not dined, and might be sick for wantof eating? Was I not forced to apply to Lady L---- for an answer to mycareful question, on his scornfully turning from me in silence?--Might wenot, if he had not gone out so abruptly, nobody knows where, have madethe appearance his heart is so set upon?--But now, indeed, it is toolate. 

Oons, madam! said he, and he kimboed his arms, and strutted up to me. Now for a cuff, thought I. I was half afraid of it: but out of the roomagain capered he. 

Lord bless me, said I, what a passionate creature is this!

Lord and Lady L---- both turned from me with indignation. But no wonderif one, that they both did. They are a silly pair; and I believe haveagreed to keep each other in countenance in all they do. 

But Emily affected me. She sat before in one corner of the room, weeping; and just then ran to me, and, wrapping her arms about me, Dear, dear Lady G----, said she, for Heaven's sake, think of what our MissByron said; 'Don't jest away your own happiness. ' I don't say who is infault: but, my dear lady, do you condescend. It looks pretty in a womanto condescend. Forgive me; I will run to my lord, and I will beg ofhim----

Away she ran, without waiting for an answer--and, bringing in thepassionate wretch, hanging on his arm--You must not, my lord, indeed youmust not be so passionate. Why, my lord, you frighted me; indeed youdid. Such a word I never heard from your lordship's mouth--

Ay, my lord, said I, you give yourself pretty airs! Don't you? and usepretty words; that a child shall be terrified at them! But come, come, ask my pardon, for leaving me to dine without you. 

Was not that tender?--Yet out went Lord and Lady L----. To be sure theydid right, if they withdrew in hopes these kind words would have beenreceived as reconciliatory ones; and not in displeasure with me, as I amhalf-afraid they did: for their good-nature (worthy souls!) doessometimes lead them into misapprehensions. I kindly laid my hand on hisarm again. --He was ungracious. --Nay, my lord, don't once more reject mewith disdain--If you do--I then smiled most courteously. Carry not yourabsurdities, my lord, too far: and I took his hand:--[There, Harriet, wascondescension!]--I protest, sir, if you give yourself any more of theseairs, you will not find me so condescending. Come, come, tell me you aresorry, and I will forgive you. 

Sorry! madam; sorry!--I am indeed sorry, for your provoking airs!

Why that's not ill said--But kimboed arms, my lord! are you not sorry forsuch an air? And Oons! are you not sorry for such a word? and for suchlooks too? and for quarreling with your dinner?--I protest, my lord, youmake one of us look like a child who flings away his bread and butterbecause it has not glass windows upon it--

Not for one moment forbear, madam!--

Pr'ythee, pr'ythee--[I profess I had like to have said honest friend]--Nomore of these airs; and, I tell you, I will forgive you. 

But, madam, I cannot, I will not--

Hush, hush; no more in that strain, and so loud, as if we had lost eachother in a wood--If you will let us be friends, say so--In an instant--Ifnot, I am gone--gone this moment--casting off from him, as I may say, intending to mount up stairs. 

Angel, or demon, shall I call you? said he. --Yet I receive your hand, asoffered. But, for God's sake, madam, let us be happy! And he kissed myhand, but not so cordially as it became him to do; and in came Lord andLady L---- with countenances a little ungracious. 

I took my seat next my own man, with an air of officiousness, hoping tooblige him by it; and he was obliged: and another day, not yet quiteagreed upon, this parade is to be made. 

And thus began, proceeded, and ended, this doughty quarrel. And whoknows, but before the day is absolutely resolved upon, we may have half ascore more? Four, five, six days, as it may happen, is a great space oftime for people to agree, who are so much together; and one of whom isplayful, and the other will not be played with. But these kimbo and oonsairs, Harriet, stick a little in my stomach; and the man seems not to bequite come to neither. He is sullen and gloomy, and don't prate away ashe used to do, when we have made up before. 

But I will sing him a song to-morrow: I will please the honest man, if Ican. But he really should not have had for a wife a woman of so sweet atemper as your

CHARLOTTE G----. 

LETTER XLII

LADY G----, TO MISS BYRONMONDAY, MAY 8. 

My lord and I have had another little--Tiff, shall I call it? It camenot up to a quarrel. Married people would have enough to do, if theywere to trouble their friends every time they misunderstood one another. And now a word or two of other people: not always scribbling ofourselves. 

We have just heard, that our cousin Everard has added another fool of oursex to the number of the weak ones who disgrace it: A sorry fellow! Hehas been seen with her, by one whom he would not know, at Cuper'sGardens; dressed like a sea-officer, and skulking like a thief into theprivatest walks of the place. When he is tired of the poor wretch, hewill want to accommodate with us by promises of penitence andreformation, as once or twice before. Rakes are not only odious, butthey are despicable fellows. You will the more clearly see this, when Iassure you, from those who know, that this silly creature our cousin islooked upon, among his brother libertines, and smarts, as a man of firstconsideration!

He has also been seen, in a gayer habit, at a certain gaming-table, nearCovent Garden; where he did not content himself with being an idlespectator. Colonel Winwood, our informant, shook his head, but made noother answer, to some of our inquiries. May he suffer! say I. --A sorryfellow!

Preparations are going on all so-fast at Windsor. We are all invited. God grant that Miss Mansfield may be as happy a Lady W----, as we allconclude she will be! But I never was fond of matches between soberyoung women, and battered old rakes. Much good may do the adventurers, drawn in by gewgaw and title!--Poor things!--But convenience, when that'sthe motive, whatever foolish girls think, will hold out its comforts, while a gratified love quickly evaporates. 

Beauchamp, who is acquainted with the Mansfields, is intrusted by mybrother, in his absence, with the management of the law-affairs. Hehopes, he says, to give a good account of them. The base steward of theuncle Calvert, who lived as a husband with the woman who had been forcedupon his superannuated master in a doting fit, has been brought, by thedeath of one of the children born in Mr. Calvert's life-time, and by theprecarious health of the posthumous one, to make overtures ofaccommodation. A new hearing of the cause between them and the Keelings, is granted; and great things are expected from it in their favour, fromsome new lights thrown in upon that suit. The Keelings are frightenedout of their wits, it seems; and are applying to Sir John Lambton, adisinterested neighbour, to offer himself as a mediator between them. The Mansfields will so soon be related to us, that I make no apology forinteresting you in their affairs. 

Be sure you chide me for my whimsical behaviour to Lord G----. I knowyou will. But don't blame my heart: my head only is wrong. 

***

A little more from fresh informations of this sorry varlet Everard. Iwished him to suffer; but I wished him not to be so very great a suffereras it seems he is. Sharpers have bit his head off, quite close to hisshoulders: they have not left it him to carry under his arm, as thehonest patron of France did his. They lend it him, however, now andthen, to repent with, and curse himself. The creature he attended toCuper's Gardens, instead of a country innocent, as he expected her to be, comes out to be a cast mistress, experienced in all the arts of such, andacting under the secret influences of a man of quality; who, wanting toget rid of her, supports her in a prosecution commenced against him (poordevil!) for performance of covenants. He was extremely mortified, onfinding my brother gone abroad: he intends to apply to him for his pityand help. Sorry fellow! He boasted to us, on our expectation of ourbrother's arrival from abroad, that he would enter his cousin Charlesinto the ways of the town. Now he wants to avail himself against thepractices of the sons of that town by his cousin's character andconsequence. 

A combination of sharpers, it seems, had long set him as a man offortune: but, on his taking refuge with my brother, gave over for atime their designs upon him, till he threw himself again in their way. 

The worthless fellow had been often liberal of his promises of marriageto young creatures of more innocence than this; and thinks it very hardthat he should be prosecuted for a crime which he had so frequentlycommitted with impunity. Can you pity him? I cannot, I assure you. Theman who can betray and ruin an innocent woman, who loves him, ought to beabhorred by men. Would he scruple to betray and ruin them, if he werenot afraid of the law?--Yet there are women, who can forgive suchwretches, and herd with them. 

My aunt Eleanor is arrived: a good, plump, bonny-faced old virgin. Shehas chosen her apartment. At present we are most prodigiously civil toeach other: but already I suspect she likes Lord G---- better than Iwould have her. She will perhaps, if a party should be formed againstyour poor Charlotte, make one of it. 

Will you think it time thrown away, to read a further account of what iscome to hand about the wretches who lately, in the double sense of theword, were overtaken between St. Denis and Paris?

Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, it seems, still keeps his chamber: he is thoughtnot to be out of danger from some inward hurt, which often makes himbring up blood in quantities. He is miserably oppressed by lowness ofspirits; and when he is a little better in that respect, his impatiencemakes his friends apprehensive for his head. But has he intellectsstrong enough to give apprehensions of that nature? Fool and madman weoften join as terms of reproach; but I believe, fools seldom run reallymad. 

Merceda is in a still more dangerous way. Besides his bruises, and afractured skull, he has, it seems, a wound in his thigh, which, in thedelirium he was thrown into by the fracture, was not duly attended to;and which, but for his valiant struggles against the knife which gave thewound, was designed for a still greater mischief. His recovery isdespaired of; and the poor wretch is continually offering up vows ofpenitence and reformation, if his life may be spared. 

Bagenhall was the person who had seduced, by promises of marriage, andfled for it, the manufacturer's daughter of Abbeville. He was overtakenby his pursuers at Douay. The incensed father, and friends of the youngwoman, would not be otherwise pacified than by his performing hispromise; which, with infinite reluctance, he complied with, principallythrough the threats of the brother, who is noted for his fierceness andresolution; and who once made the sorry creature feel an argument whichgreatly terrified him. Bagenhall is at present at Abbeville, living aswell as he can with his new wife, cursing his fate, no doubt, in secret. He is obliged to appear fond of her before her brother and father; thelatter being also a sour man, a Gascon, always boasting of his family, and valuing himself upon a De, affixed by himself to his name, andjealous of indignity offered to it. The fierce brother is resolved toaccompany his sister to England, when Bagenhall goes thither, in order, as he declares, to secure to her good usage, and see her owned andvisited by all Bagenhall's friends and relations. And thus much of thesefine gentlemen. 

How different a man is Beauchamp! But it is injuring him, to think ofthose wretches and him at the same time. He certainly has an eye toEmily, but behaves with great prudence towards her: yet every body butshe sees his regard for her: nobody but her guardian runs in her head;and the more, as she really thinks it is a glory to love him, because ofhis goodness. Every body, she says, has the same admiration of him, thatshe has. 

Mrs. Reeves desires me to acquaint you, that Miss Clements, having, bythe death of her mother and aunt, come into a pretty fortune, isaddressed to by a Yorkshire gentleman of easy circumstances, and ispreparing to leave the town, having other connexions in that county; butthat she intends to write to you before she goes, and to beg you tofavour her with now and then a letter. 

I think Miss Clements is a good sort of young woman: but I imagined shewould have been one of those nuns at large, who need not make vows ofliving and dying aunt Eleanors, or Lady Gertrudes; all three of them goodhonest souls! chaste, pious, and plain. It is a charming situation, whena woman is arrived at such a height of perfection, as to be above givingor receiving temptation. Sweet innocents! They have my reverence, ifnot my love. How would they be affronted, if I were to say pity!--Ithink only of my two good aunts, at the present writing. Miss Clements, you know, is a youngish woman; and I respect her much. One would notjest upon the unsightliness of person, or plainness of feature: but thinkyou she will not be one of those, who twenty years hence may put in aboast of her quondam beauty?

How I run on! I think I ought to be ashamed of myself. 

'Very true, Charlotte. '

And so it is, Harriet. I have done--Adieu!--Lord G---- will be sillyagain, I doubt; but I am prepared. I wish he had half my patience. 

'Be quiet, Lord G----! What a fool you are!'--The man, my dear, underpretence of being friends, run his sharp nose in my eye. No bearing hisfondness: It is worse than insolence. How my eye waters!--I can tellhim--But I will tell him, and not you. --Adieu, once more. 

CHARLOTTE G----

LETTER XLIII

MR. LOWTHER, TO JOHN ARNOLD, ESQ. (HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW) IN LONDON. BOLOGNA, MAY 5-16. 

I will now, my dear brother, give you a circumstantial account of ourshort, but flying journey. The 20th of April, O. S. Early in the morning, we left Paris, and reached Lyons the 24th, at night. 

Resting but a few hours, we set out for Pont Beauvoisin, where we arrivedthe following evening: There we bid adieu to France, and found ourselvesin Savoy, equally noted for its poverty and rocky mountains. Indeed itwas a total change of the scene. We had left behind us a bloomingspring, which enlivened with its verdure the trees and hedges on the roadwe passed, and the meadows already smiled with flowers. The cheerfulinhabitants were busy in adjusting their limits, lopping their trees, pruning their vines, tilling their fields: but when we entered Savoy, nature wore a very different face; and I must own, that my spirits weregreat sufferers by the change. Here we began to view on the nearermountains, covered with ice and snow, notwithstanding the advancedseason, the rigid winter, in frozen majesty, still preserving itsdomains: and arriving at St. Jean Maurienne the night of the 26th, thesnow seemed as if it would dispute with us our passage; and horrible wasthe force of the boisterous winds, which sat full in our faces. 

Overpowered by the fatigues I had undergone in the expedition we hadmade, the unseasonable coldness of the weather, and the fight of one ofthe worst countries under heaven, still clothed in snow, and deformed bycontinual hurricanes; I was here taken ill. Sir Charles was greatlyconcerned for my indisposition, which was increased by a great lowness ofspirits. He attended upon me in person; and never had man a more kindand indulgent friend. Here we stayed two days; and then, my illnessbeing principally owing to fatigue, I found myself enabled to proceed. At two of the clock in the morning of the 28th, we prosecuted ourjourney, in palpable darkness, and dismal weather, though the winds weresomewhat laid, and reaching the foot of Mount Cenis by break of day, arrived at Lanebourg, a poor little village, so environed by highmountains, that for three months in the twelve, it is hardly visited bythe cheering rays of the sun. Every object which here presents itself isexcessively miserable. The people are generally of an olive complexion, with wens under their chins; some so monstrous, especially women, asquite disfigure them. 

Here it is usual to unscrew and take in pieces the chaises, in order tocarry them on mules over the mountain: and to put them together on theother side: For the Savoy side of the mountain is much more difficult topass than the other. But Sir Charles chose not to lose time; andtherefore lest the chaise to the care of the inn-keeper; proceeding, withall expedition, to gain the top of the hill. 

The way we were carried, was as follows:--A kind of horse, as it iscalled with you, with two poles, like those of chairmen, was the vehicle;on which is secured a sort of elbow chair, in which the traveller sits. A man before, another behind, carry this open machine with so muchswiftness, that they are continually running and skipping, like wildgoats, from rock to rock, the four miles of that ascent. If a travellerwere not prepossessed that these mountaineers are the surest-footedcarriers in the universe, he would be in continual apprehensions of beingoverturned. I, who never undertook this journey before, must own, that Icould not be so fearless, on this occasion as Sir Charles was, though hehad very exactly described to me how every thing would be. Then, thoughthe sky was clear when we passed this mountain, yet the cold wind blewquantities of frozen snow in our faces; insomuch that it seemed to mejust as if people were employed, all the time we were passing, to woundus with the sharpest needles. They indeed call the wind that brings thissharp-pointed snow, The Tormenta. 

An adventure, which any-where else might have appeared ridiculous, I wasafraid would have proved fatal to one of our chairmen, as I will callthem. I had flapt down my hat to screen my eyes from the fury of thatdeluge of sharp-pointed frozen-snow; and it was blown off my head, by asudden gust, down the precipices: I gave it for lost, and was about tobind a handkerchief over the woolen-cap, which those people provide totie under the chin; when one of the assistant carriers (for they arealways six in number to every chair, in order to relieve one another)undertook to recover it. I thought it impossible to be done; the passagebeing, as I imagined, only practicable for birds: however, I promised hima crown reward, if he did. Never could the leaps of the most dexterousof rope-dancers be compared to those of this daring fellow: I saw himsometimes jumping from rock to rock, sometimes rolling down a declivityof snow like a ninepin, sometimes running, sometimes hopping, skipping;in short, he descended like lightning to the verge of a torrent, where hefound the hat. He came up almost as quick, and appeared as littlefatigued, as if he had never left us. 

We arrived at the top in two hours, from Lanebourg; and the sun waspretty high above the horizon. Out of a hut, half-buried in snow, camesome mountaineers, with two poor sledges, drawn by mules, to carry usthrough the Plain of Mount Cenis, as it is called, which is about fourItalian miles in length, to the descent of the Italian side of themountain. These sledges are not much different from the chairs, orsedans, or horse, we then quitted; only the two under poles are flat, andnot so long as the others, and turning up a little at the end, to hinderthem from sticking fast in the snow. To the fore-ends of the poles arefixed two round sticks, about two feet and a half long, which serve for asupport and help to the man who guides the mule, who, running on the snowbetween the mule and the sledge, holds the sticks with each hand. 

It was diverting to see the two sledgemen striving to outrun each other. 

Encouraged by Sir Charles's generosity, we very soon arrived at the otherend of the plain. The man who walked, or rather ran, between the sledgeand the mule, made a continual noise; hallooing and beating the stubbornbeast with his fists, which otherwise would be very slow in its motion. 

At the end of this plain we found such another hut as that on theLanebourg side. Here they took off the smoking mules from the sledges, to give them rest. 

And now began the most extraordinary way of travelling that can beimagined. The descent of the mountain from the top of this side, to asmall village called Novalesa, is four Italian miles. When the snow hasfilled up all the inequalities of the mountain, it looks, in many parts, as smooth and equal as a sugar-loaf. It is on the brink of this rapiddescent that they put the sledge. The man who is to guide it, sitsbetween the feet of the traveller, who is seated in the elbow-chair, withhis legs at the outside of the sticks fixed at the fore-ends of the flatpoles, and holds the two sticks with his hands; and when the sledge hasgained the declivity, its own weight carries it down with surprisingcelerity. But as the immense irregular rocks under the snow make nowand then some edges in the declivity, which, if not avoided, wouldoverturn the sledge; the guide, who foresees the danger, by putting hisfoot strongly and dexterously in the snow next to the precipice, turnsthe machine, by help of the above-mentioned sticks, the contrary way, and by way of zig-zag goes to the bottom. Such was the velocity of thismotion, that we dispatched these four miles in less than five minutes;and, when we arrived at Novalesa, hearing that the snow was very deepmost of the way to Susa, and being pleased with our way of travelling, wehad some mules put again to the sledges, and ran all the way to the verygates of that city, which is seven miles distant from Mount Cenis. 

In our way we had a cursory view of the impregnable fortress of Brunetta, the greatest part of which is cut out of the solid rock, and commandsthat important pass. 

We rested all night at Susa; and, having bought a very commodiouspost-chaise, we proceeded to Turin, where we dined; and from thence, theevening of May 2, O. S. Got to Parma by way of Alexandria and Placentia, having purposely avoided the high road through Milan, as it would havecost us a few hours more time. 

Sir Charles observed to me, when we were on the plain or flat top ofMount Cenis, that had not the winter been particularly long and severe, we should have had, instead of this terrible appearance of snow there, flowers starting up, as it were, under our feet, of various kinds, whichare hardly to be met with anywhere else. One of the greatest dangers, hetold me, in passing this mount in winter, arises from a ball of snow, which is blown down from the top by the wind, or falls down by some otheraccident; which, gathering all the way in its descent, becomes instantlyof such a prodigious bigness, that there is hardly any avoiding beingcarried away with it, man and beast, and smothered in it. One of theseballs we saw rolling down; but as it took another course than ours, wehad no apprehension of danger from it. 

At Parma we found expecting us, the bishop of Nocera, and a very reverendfather, Marescotti by name; who expressed the utmost joy at the arrivalof Sir Charles Grandison, and received me, at his recommendation, with apoliteness which seems natural to them. I will not repeat what I havewritten before of this excellent young gentleman; intrepidity, bravery, discretion, as well as generosity, are conspicuous parts of hischaracter. He is studious to avoid danger; but is unappalled in it. Forhumanity, benevolence, providence for others, to his very servants, Inever met with his equal. 

My reception from the noble family to which he has introduced me; thepatient's case, (a very unhappy one!); and a description of this noblecity, and the fine country about it; shall be the subject of my next. Assure all my friends of my health, and good wishes for them; and, mydear Arnold, believe me to be

Ever yours, &c. 

LETTER XLIV

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, TO DR. BARTLETTBOLOGNA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 10-21. 

I told you, my dear and reverend friend, that I should hardly write toyou till I arrived in this city. 

The affair of my executorship obliged me to stay a day longer at Paristhan I intended; but I have put every thing relating to that trust insuch a way, as to answer all my wishes. 

Mr. Lowther wrote to Mr. Arnold, a friend of his in London, theparticulars of the extraordinary affair we were engaged in between St. Denis and Paris; with desire that he would inform my friends of ourarrival at that capital. 

We were obliged to stop two days at St. Jean de Maurienne. Theexpedition we travelled with was too much for Mr. Lowther; and Iexpected, and was not disappointed, from the unusual backwardness of theseason, to find the passage over Mount Cenis less agreeable than itusually is in the beginning of May. 

The bishop of Nocera had offered to meet me any where on his side of themountains. I wrote to him from Lyons, that I hoped to see him at Parma, on or about the very day that I was so fortunate as to reach the palaceof the Count of Belvedere in that city; where I found, that he and FatherMarescotti had arrived the evening before. They, as well as the count, expressed great joy to see me; and when I presented Mr. Lowther to them, with the praises due to his skill, and let them know the consultations Ihad had with eminent physicians of my own country on Lady Clementina'scase, they invoked blessings upon us both, and would not be interruptedin them by my eager questions after the health and state of mind of thetwo dearest persons of their family. --Unhappy! very unhappy! said thebishop. Let us give you some refreshment, before we come to particulars. 

To my repeated inquiries, Jeronymo, poor Jeronymo! said the bishop, isliving, and that is all we can say. --The sight of you will be a cordialto his heart. Clementina is on her journey to Bologna from Naples. Youdesired to find her with us, and not at Naples. She is weak; is obligedto travel slowly. She will rest at Urbino two or three days. Dearcreature! What has she not suffered from the cruelty of her cousinLaurana, as well as from her malady! The general has been, and is, indulgent to her. He is married to a lady of great merit, quality, andfortune. He has, at length, consented that we shall try this lastexperiment, as the hearts of my mother and now lately of my father, aswell as mine, are in it. His lady would not be denied accompanying mysister; and as my brother could not bear being absent from her, hetravels with them. I wish he had stayed at Naples. I hope, however, hewill be as ready, as you will find us all, to acknowledge the favour ofthis visit, and the fatigue and trouble you have given yourself on ouraccount. 

As to my sister's bodily health, proceeded he, it is greatly impaired. We are almost hopeless, with regard to the state of her mind. She speaksnot; she answers not any questions. Camilla is with her. She seemsregardless of any body else. She has been told, that the general ismarried. His lady makes great court to her; but she heeds her not. Weare in hopes, that my mother, on her return to Bologna, will engage herattention. She never yet was so bad as to forget her duty, either toGod, or her parents. Sometimes Camilla thinks she pays some littleattention to your name; but then she instantly starts, as in terror;looks round her with fear; puts her finger to her lips, as if she dreadedher cruel cousin Laurana should be told of her having heard it mentioned. 

The bishop and father both regretted that she had been denied therequested interview. They were now, they said, convinced, that if thathad been granted, and she had been left to Mrs. Beaumont's friendly care, a happy issue might have been hoped for: But now, said the bishop--Thensighed, and was silent. 

I despatched Saunders, early the next morning, to Bologna, to procureconvenient lodgings for me, and Mr. Lowther. 

In the afternoon we set out for that city. The Count of Belvedere foundan opportunity to let me know his unabated passion for Clementina, andthat he had lately made overtures to marry her, notwithstanding hermalady; having been advised, he said, by proper persons, that as it wasnot an hereditary, but an accidental disorder, it might be, in time, curable. He accompanied us about half way in our journey; and, atparting, Remember, chevalier, whispered he, that Clementina is the soulof my hope: I cannot forego that hope. No other woman will I ever callmine. 

I heard him in silence: I admired him for his attachment: I pitied him. He said, he would tell me more of his mind at Bologna. 

We reached Bologna on the 15th, N. S. Saunders had engaged for me thelodgings I had before. 

Our conversation on the road turned chiefly on the case of SignorJeronymo. The bishop and father were highly pleased with the skill, founded on practice, which evidently appeared in all that Mr. Lowthersaid on the subject: and the bishop once intimated, that, be the eventwhat it would, his journey to Italy should be made the most beneficialaffair to him he had ever engaged in. Mr. Lowther replied, that as hewas neither a necessitous nor a mean-spirited man, and had reason to beentirely satisfied with the terms I had already secured to him; he shouldtake it unkindly, if any other reward were offered him. 

Think, my dear Dr. Bartlett, what emotions I must have on entering, oncemore, the gates of the Porretta palace, though Clementina was not there. 

I hastened up to my Jeronymo, who had been apprized of my arrival. Themoment he saw me, Do I once more, said he, behold my friend, myGrandison? Let me embrace the dearest of men. Now, now, have I livedlong enough. He bowed his head upon his pillow, and meditated me; hiscountenance shining with pleasure in defiance of pain. 

The bishop entered: he could not be present at our first interview. 

My lord, said Jeronymo, make it your care that my dear friend be treated, by every soul of our family, with the gratitude and respect which are dueto his goodness. Methinks I am easier and happier, this moment, than Ihave been for the tedious space of time since I last saw him. He namedthat space of time to the day, and to the very hour of the day. 

The marquis and marchioness signifying their pleasure to see me, thebishop led me to them. My reception from the marquis was kind; from hislady it was as that of a mother to a long-absent son. I had ever been, she was pleased to say, a fourth son in her eye; and now, that she hadbeen informed that I had brought over with me a surgeon of experience, and the advice in writing of eminent physicians of my country, theobligations I had laid on their whole family, whatever were the success, were unreturnable. 

I asked leave to introduce Mr. Lowther to them. They received him withgreat politeness, and recommended their Jeronymo to his best skill. Mr. Lowther's honest heart was engaged, by a reception so kind. He never, hetold me afterwards, beheld so much pleasure and pain struggling in thesame countenance, as in that of the lady; so fixed a melancholy, as inthat of the marquis. 

Mr. Lowther is a man of spirit, though a modest man. He is, as on everyproper occasion I found, a man of piety; and has a heart tender as manly. Such a man, heart and hand, is qualified for a profession which is themost useful and certain in the art of healing. He is a man of sense andlearning out of his profession, and happy in his address. 

The two surgeons who now attend Signor Jeronymo, are both of thiscountry. They were sent for. With the approbation, and at the request, of the family, I presented Mr. Lowther to them; but first gave them hischaracter, as a modest man, as a man of skill, and experience; and toldthem, that he had quitted business, and wanted not either fame orfortune. 

They acquainted him with the case, and their methods of proceeding. Mr. Lowther assisted in the dressings that very evening. Jeronymo would haveme to be present. Mr. Lowther suggested an alteration in their method, but in so easy and gentle a manner, as if he doubted not, but such wastheir intention when the state of the wounds would admit of that methodof treatment, that the gentlemen came readily into it. A great deal ofmatter had been collected, by means of the wrong methods pursued; and heproposed, if the patient's strength would bear it, to make an aperturebelow the principal wound, in order to discharge the matter downward; andhe suggested the dressing with hollow tents and bandage, and to dismissthe large tents, with which they had been accustomed to distend thewound, to the extreme anguish of the patient, on pretence of keeping itopen, to assist the discharge. 

Let me now give you, my dear friend, a brief history of my Jeronymo'scase, and of the circumstances which have attended it; by which you willbe able to account for the difficulties of it, and how it has happened, that, in such a space of time, either the cure was not effected, or thatthe patient yielded not to the common destiny. 

In lingering cases, patients or their friends are sometimes too apt toblame their physicians, and to listen to new recommendations. Thesurgeons attending this unhappy case, had been more than once changed. Signor Jeronymo, it seems, was unskilfully treated by the young surgeonof Cremona, who was first engaged: he neglected the most dangerous wound;and, when he attended to it, managed it wrong, for want of experience. He is, therefore, very properly dismissed. 

The unhappy man had at first three wounds: one in his breast, which hadbeen for some time healed; one in his shoulder, which, through his ownimpatience, having been too suddenly healed up, was obliged to be laidopen again: the other, which is the most dangerous, in the hip-joint. 

A surgeon of this place, and another of Padua, were next employed. Thecure not advancing, a surgeon of eminence, from Paris, was sent for. 

Mr. Lowther tells me, that this man's method was by far the mosteligible; but that he undertook too much; since, from the first, therecould not be any hope, from the nature of the wound in the hip-joint, that the patient could ever walk, without sticks or crutches: and of thisopinion were the other two surgeons: but the French gentleman was so verypragmatical, that he would neither draw with them, nor give reasons forwhat he did; regarding them only as his assistants. They could not longbear this usage, and gave up to him in disgust. 

How cruel is punctilio, among men of this science, in cases of difficultyand danger!

The present operators, when the two others had given up, were not, but byleave of the French gentleman, called in. He valuing himself on hispractice in the Royal Hospital of Invalids at Paris, looked upon them astheorists only; and treated them with as little ceremony as he had shewnthe others: so that at last, from their frequent differences, it becamenecessary to part with either him, or them. His pride, when he knew thatthis question was a subject of debate, would not allow him to leave thefamily an option. He made his demand: it was complied with; and hereturned to Paris. 

From what this gentleman threw out at parting, to the disparagement ofthe two others, Signor Jeronymo suspected their skill; and from a hint ofthis suspicion, as soon as I knew I should be welcome myself, I procuredthe favour of Mr. Lowther's attendance. 

All Mr. Lowther's fear is, that Signor Jeronymo has been kept too long inhand by the different managements of the several operators; and that hewill sink under the necessary process, through weakness of habit. But, however, he is of opinion, that it is requisite to confine him to astrict diet, and to deny him wine and fermented liquors, in which he hashitherto been indulged, against the opinion of his own operators, whohave been too complaisant to his appetite. 

An operation somewhat severe was performed on his shoulder yesterdaymorning. The Italian surgeons complimented Mr. Lowther with the lancet. They both praised his dexterity; and Signor Jeronymo, who will beconsulted on every thing that he is to suffer, blessed his gentle hand. 

At Mr. Lowther's request, a physician was yesterday consulted; whoadvised some gentle aperitives, as his strength will bear it; and somebalsamics, to sweeten the blood and juices. 

Mr. Lowther told me just now, that the fault of the gentlemen who havenow the care of him, has not been want of skill, but of critical courage, and a too great solicitude to oblige their patient; which, by their ownaccount, had made them forego several opportunities which had offered toassist nature. In short, sir, said he, your friend knows too much of hisown case to be ruled, and too little to qualify him to direct what is tobe done, especially as symptoms must have been frequently changing. 

Mr. Lowther doubts not, he says, but he shall soon convince Jeronymo thathe merits his confidence, and then he will exact it from him; and, in sodoing, shall not only give weight to his own endeavours to serve him, butrid the other two gentlemen of embarrasments which have often given themdiffidences, when resolution was necessary. 

In the mean time the family here are delighted with Mr. Lowther. Theywill flatter themselves, they say, with hopes of their Jeronymo'srecovery; which, however, Mr. Lowther, for fear of disappointment, doesnot encourage. Jeronymo himself owns, that his spirits are much revived;and we all know the power that the mind has over the body. 

Thus have I given you, my reverend friend, a general notion of Jeronymo'scase, as I understand it from Mr. Lowther's as general representation ofit. 

He has prevailed upon him to accept of an apartment adjoining to that ofhis patient. Jeronymo said, that when he knows he has so skilful afriend near him, he shall go to rest with confidence; and good rest is ofthe highest consequence to him. What a happiness, my dear Dr. Bartlett, will fall to my share, if I may be an humble instrument, in the hand ofProvidence, to heal this brother; and if his recovery shall lead the wayto the restoration of his sister; each so known a lover of the other, that the world is more ready to attribute her malady to his misfortuneand danger, than to any other cause! But how early days are these, onwhich my love and my compassion for persons so meritorious, embolden meto build such forward hopes!

Lady Clementina is now impatiently expected by every one. She is atUrbino. The general and his lady are with her. His haughty spiritcannot bear to think she should see me, or that my attendance on hershould be thought of so much importance to her. 

The marchioness, in a conversation that I have just now had with her, hinted this to me, and besought me to keep my temper, if his high notionof family and female honour should carry him out of his usual politeness. 

I will give you, my dear friend, the particulars of this conversation. 

She began with saying, that she did not, for her part, now think, thather beloved daughter, whom once she believed hardly any private man coulddeserve, was worthy of me, even were she to recover her reason. 

I could not but guess the meaning of so high a compliment. What answercould I return that would not, on one hand, be capable of being thoughtcool; on the other, of being supposed interested; and as if I werelooking forward to a reward that some of the family still think too high?But, while I knew my own motives, I could not be displeased with a ladywho was not at liberty to act, in this point, according to her own will. 

I only said, (and it was with truth, ) That the calamity of the noble ladyhad endeared her to me, more than it was possible the most prosperousfortune could have done. 

I, my good chevalier, may say any thing to you. We are undeterminedabout every thing. We know not what to propose, what to consent to. Your journey, on the first motion, though but from some of us, the dearcreature continuing ill; you in possession of a considerable estate, exercising yourself in doing good in your native country; [You must thinkwe took all opportunities of inquiring after the man once so likely to beone of us;] the first fortune in Italy, Olivia, though she is not aClementina, pursuing you in hopes of calling herself yours; (for toEngland we hear she went, and there you own she is;) What obligationshave you laid upon us!--What can we determine upon? What can we wish?

Providence and you, madam, shall direct my steps. I am in yours and yourlord's power. The same uncertainty, from the same unhappy cause, leavesme not the thought, because not the power, of determination. Therecovery of Lady Clementina and her brother, without a view to my owninterest, fills up, at present, all the wishes of my heart. 

Let me ask, said the lady, (it is for my own private satisfaction, ) Weresuch a happy event, as to Clementina, to take place, could you, wouldyou, think yourself bound by your former offers?

When I made those offers, madam, the situation on your side was the samethat it is now: Lady Clementina was unhappy in her mind. My fortune, itis true, is higher: it is, indeed, as high as I wish it to be. I thendeclared, that if you would give me your Clementina, without insisting onone hard, on one indispensable article, I would renounce her fortune, andtrust to my father's goodness to me for a provision. Shall my accessionto the estate of my ancestors alter me?--No, madam: I never yet made anoffer, that I receded from, the circumstances continuing the same. If, in the article of residence, the marquis, and you, and Clementina, wouldrelax; I would acknowledge myself indebted to your goodness; but withoutconditioning for it. 

I told you, said she, that I put this question only for my own privatesatisfaction: and I told you truth. I never will deceive or mislead you. Whenever I speak to you, it shall be as if, even in your own concerns, Ispoke to a third person; and I shall not doubt but you will have thegenerosity to advise, as such, though against yourself. 

May I be enabled to act worthy of your good opinion! I, madam, look uponmyself as bound; you and yours are free. 

What a pleasure is it, my dear Dr. Bartlett, to the proud heart of yourfriend, that I could say this!--Had I sought, in pursuance of my owninclinations, to engage the affections of the admirable Miss Byron, as Imight with honour have endeavoured to do, had not the woes of this noblefamily, and the unhappy state of mind of their Clementina, so deeplyaffected me; I might have involved myself, and that loveliest of women, in difficulties which would have made such a heart as mine still moreunhappy than it is. 

Let me know, my dear Dr. Bartlett, that Miss Byron is happy. I rejoice, whatever be my own destiny, that I have not involved her in myuncertainties. The Countess of D---- is a worthy woman: the earl, herson, is a good young man: Miss Byron merits such a mother; the countesssuch a daughter. How dear, how important, is her welfare to me!--Youknow your Grandison, my good Dr. Bartlett. Her friendship I presumed toask: I dared not to wish to correspond with her. I rejoice, for hersake, that I trusted not my heart with such a proposal. Whatdifficulties, my dear friend, have I had to encounter with!--God bepraised, that I have nothing, with regard to these two incomparablewomen, to reproach myself with. I am persuaded that our prudence, ifrashly we throw not ourselves into difficulties, and if we will exert it, and make a reliance on the proper assistance, is generally proportionedto our trials. 

I asked the marchioness after Lady Sforza, and her daughter Laurana; andwhether they were at Milan?

You have heard, no doubt, answered she, the cruel treatment that my poorchild met with from her cousin Laurana. Lady Sforza justifies her in it. We are upon extreme bad terms, on that account. They are both at Milan. The general has vowed, that he never will see them more, if he can avoidit. The bishop, only as a Christian, can forgive them. You, chevalier, know the reason why we cannot allow our Clementina to take the veil. 

The particular reasons I have not, madam, been inquisitive about; buthave always understood them to be family ones, grounded on the dyingrequest of one of her grandfathers. 

Our daughter, sir, is entitled to a considerable estate which joins toour own domains. It was purchased for her by her two grandfathers; whovied with each other in demonstrating their love of her by solid effects. One of them (my father) was, in his youth, deeply in love with a younglady of great merit; and she was thought to love him: but, in a fit ofpious bravery, as he used to call it, when everything between themselves, and between the friends on both sides, was concluded on, she threwherself into a convent; and, passing steadily through the probationaryforms, took the veil; but afterwards repented, and took pains to let itbe known that she was unhappy. This gave him a disgust against thesequestered life, though he was, in other respects, a zealous Catholic. And Clementina having always a serious turn; in order to deter her fromembracing it, (both grandfathers being desirous of strengthening theirhouse, as well in the female as male line, ) they inserted a clause ineach of their wills, by which they gave the estate designed for her, incase she took the veil, to Laurana, and her descendants; Laurana to enterinto possession of it on the day that Clementina should be professed. But if Clementina married, Laurana was then to be entitled only to ahandsome legacy, that she might not be entirely disappointed: for thereversion, in case Clementina had no children, was to go to our eldestson; who, however, has been always generously solicitous to have hissister marry. 

Both grandfathers were rich. Our son Giacomo, on my father's death, ashe had willed, entered upon a considerable estate in the kingdom ofNaples, which had for ages been in my family: he is therefore, and willbe, greatly provided for. Our second son has great prospects before him, in the church: but you know he cannot marry. Poor Jeronymo! We had not, before his misfortune, any great hopes of strengthening the family by hismeans: he, alas! (as you well know, who took such laudable pains toreclaim him, before we knew you, ) with great qualities, imbibed freenotions from bad company, and declared himself a despiser of marriage. This the two grandfathers knew, and often deplored; for Jeronymo andClementina were equally their favourites. To him and the bishop theybequeathed great legacies. 

We suspected not, till very lately, that Laurana was deeply in love withthe Count of Belvedere; and that her mother and she had views to driveour sweet child into a convent, that Laurana might enjoy the estate;which they hoped would be an inducement to the count to marry her. CruelLaurana! Cruel Lady Sforza! So much love as they both pretended to ourchild; and, I believe, had, till the temptation, strengthened by power, became too strong for them. Unhappy the day that we put her into theirhands. 

Besides the estate so bequeathed to Clementina, we can do great thingsfor her: few Italian families are so rich as ours. Her brothers forgettheir own interest, when it comes into competition with hers: she is asgenerous as they. Our four children never knew what a contention was, but who should give up an advantage to the other. This child, this sweetchild, was ever the delight of us all, and likewise of our brother theConte della Porretta. What joy would her recovery and nuptials give us!--Dear creature! we have sometimes thought, that she is the fonder of thesequestered life, as it is that which we wish her not to embrace. --Butcan Clementina be perverse? She cannot. Yet that was the life of herchoice, when she had a choice, her grandfathers' wishes notwithstanding. 

Will you now wonder, chevalier, that neither our sons nor we can allowClementina to take the veil? Can we so reward Laurana for her cruelty?Especially now, that we suspect the motives for her barbarity? Could Ihave thought that my sister Sforza--But what will not love and avaricedo, their powers united to compass the same end; the one reigning in thebosom of the mother, the other in that of the daughter? Alas! alas! theyhave, between them, broken the spirit of my Clementina. The very name ofLaurana gives her terror--So far is she sensible. But, O sir, hersensibility appears only when she is harshly treated! To tenderness shehad been too much accustomed, to make her think an indulgent treatmentnew, or unusual. 

I dread, my dear Dr. Bartlett, yet am impatient, to see the unhappy lady. I wish the general were not to accompany her. I am afraid I shall wanttemper, if he forget his. My own heart, when it tells me, that I havenot deserved ill usage, (from my equals and superiors in rank, especially, ) bids me not bear it. I am ashamed to own to you, myreverend friend, that pride of spirit, which, knowing it to be my fault, I ought long ago to have subdued. 

Make my compliments to every one I love. Mr. And Mrs. Reeves are of thenumber. 

Charlotte, I hope, is happy. If she is not, it must be her own fault. Let her know, that I will not allow, when my love to both sisters isequal, that she shall give me cause to say that Lady L---- is my bestsister. 

Lady Olivia gives me uneasiness. I am ashamed, my dear Dr. Bartlett, that a woman of a rank so considerable, and who has some great qualities, should lay herself under obligation to the compassion of a man who canonly pity her. When a woman gets over that delicacy, which is the testor bulwark, as I may say, of modesty--Modesty itself may soon lie at themercy of an enemy. 

Tell my Emily, that she is never out of my mind; and that, among theother excellent examples she has before her, Miss Byron's must never beout of hers. 

Lord L---- and Lord G---- are in full possession of my brotherly love. 

I shall not at present write to my Beauchamp. In writing to you, I writeto him. 

You know all my heart. If in this, or my future letters, any thingshould fall from my pen, that would possibly in your opinion affect orgive uneasiness to any one I love and honour, were it to be communicated;I depend upon your known and unquestionable discretion to keep it toyourself. 

I shall be glad you will enable yourself to inform me of the way SirHargrave and his friends are in. They were very ill at Paris; and, itwas thought, too weak, and too much bruised, to be soon carried over toEngland. Men! Englishmen! thus to disgrace themselves, and theircountry!--I am concerned for them!

I expect large packets by the next mails from my friends. England, whichwas always dear to me, never was half so dear as now, to

Your ever-affectionateGRANDISON. 

END OF VOLUME 4