This is the point to which I have long directed all my wishes. God grant that our dear Clementina's malady may be no drawback upon your felicities, and you must both then be happy.

I was sensible of a little abatement, on the Bishop's saying to his mother, not knowing I heard him, Ah, madam! the poor Count of Belvedere-How will he be affected!-But he will go to Madrid, and I hope make himself happy there with some Spanish lady.-The poor Count of Belvedere! returned the Marchioness, with a sigh-But he will not know how to blame

us.

To-morrow morning I am to drink chocolate with Lady Clementina. We shall be left together, perhaps, or only with her mother or Camilla.

What, my dear Dr Bartlett, would I give to be assured, that the most excellent of Englishwomen could think herself happy with the Earl of D, the only man of all her admirers who is, in any manner, worthy of calling so bright a jewel his! Should Miss Byron be unhappy, and through my means, the remembrance of my own caution and self-restraint could not appease the grief of my heart.

But so prudent a woman as she is, and as the Countess of D-is-What are these suggestions of tenderness? Are they not suggestions of vanity and presumption? They are-They must be so. I will banish them from my thoughts as such. Ever-amiable Miss Byron! friend of my soul! forgive me for them!-Yet if the noble Clementina is to be mine, my heart will be greatly gratified, if, before she receive my vows, I could know that Miss Byron had given her hand, in compliance with the entreaties of all her friends, to the deserving Earl of D

Having an opportunity, I dispatch this, and my two former. In you I include remembrances to all my beloved friends.—Adieu, my dear Dr Bartlett." In the highest of our pleasures, the sighing heart will remind us of imperfection." It is fit it should be so.-Adieu, my dear friend!

CHARLES GRANDISON.

CONTINUATION OF LADY G'S LETTER TO LADY L. NO. CLXXI.

[Begun p. 485, and dated July 24.]

ing with Clementina? What was the opportu nity that he had to send away these letters, which he must be assured would keep us in strange suspense! Hang the opportunity that so officiously offered !-But, perhaps, in the tenderness of his nature, he thought that this dispatch was necessary, to prepare us for what was to follow, lest, were he to acquaint us with the event as decided, our emotion would be too great to be supported.-We sisters, to go over to attend Lady CLEMENTINA GRANDISON, a twelvemonth hence !-Ah, the poor Harriet! and will she give us leave? But, it surely must not, cannot be! And yet-Hush, hush, hush, Charlotte! And proceed to facts.

Dr Bartlett, when these letters were brought him post from London, was with us at table. We had but just dined. He arose, and retired to his own apartment with them. We were all impatient to know the contents. When I thought he had withdrawn long enough to read dispatches of a mile long, and yet found that he returned not, my impatience was heightened; and the dear Harriet said, Bad news, I fear! I hope Sir Charles is well! I hope Lady Clementina is not relapsed! The good Jeronymo! I fear for him.

I then stept up to the Doctor's room. He was sitting with his back towards the door, in a pensive mood; and when, hearing somebody enter, he turned about, I saw he had been deeply affected

My dear Dr Bartlett!-For God's sake!How is my brother?

Don't be affrighted, madam! All are well in Italy-In a way to be well. But, alas! [Tears started afresh] I am grieved for Miss Byron!

How, how, Doctor! is my brother married? It cannot, it shall not be !-Is my brother married?

O no, not married, by these letters! But all is concluded upon! Sweet, sweet Miss Byron ! Now, indeed, will her magnanimity be put to the test!-Yet Lady Clementina is a most excellent woman!-You, madam, may read these letters; Miss Byron, I believe, must not. You will see, by the concluding part of the last, how greatly embarrassed my patron must be between his honour to one lady, and his tenderness for the other: whichsoever shall be his, how much will the other be to be pitied!

Do you, madam, take the letters. You have tenderness; your prudence cannot be doubted I will attend you by and by. His eyes were ready to run over.

I went down. I met my lord at the stairs

foot. How, how, madam, does Sir Charles?— O my lord! we are all undone. My brother, by this time, is the husband of Lady Clementina.

He was struck, as with a thunderbolt: God forbid! were all the words he could speak, and turned as pale as death.

I love him for his sincere love to my Harriet. I wrung his hand-The letters do not say it. But everybody is consenting, and if it be not already so, it soon will. Step, my lord, to Mrs Selby, and tell her, that I wish to see her in the flower-garden.

Miss Byron and Nancy, said he, are gone to walk in the garden. She was so apprehensive, on your staying above, and the Doctor not coming down, that she was forced to walk into the air. I left Mr Selby, his lady, Emily, and Lucy, in the dining-parlour, to find you, and let you know how everybody was affected. Tears dropt on his cheeks.

I gave him my hand in love. I was pleased with him. I called him my dear lord.

. I think our sweet friend once said, that fear made us loving. Ill news will oblige us to look around us for consolation.

I found the persons named, just rising from their seats to walk into the garden. O my dear Mrs Selby! said I, everything is agreed upon in Italy.

They were all dumb but Emily. Her sorrow was audible; she wrung her hands; she was ready to faint: her Anne was called to take care of her, and she retired.

I then told Mr and Mrs Selby what were the contents of the last letter of the three. Mr Selby broke out into passionate grief-I know not what the honour is, said he, that could oblige Sir Charles, treated as he had been by the proud Italians, to go over at the first invitation. One might have guessed that it would have come to this. Oh! the poor Harriet ! flower of the world! She deserved not to be made a second woman to the stateliest minx in Italy; but this is my comfort, she is superior to them both. Upon my soul, madam, she is. The man, were he a king, that could prefer another woman to our Harriet, does not deserve her.

He then arose from his seat, and walked up and down the room in anger; and afterwards sitting down, My dear Mrs Selby, said he, we shall now see what the so-often-pleaded-for dignity of your sex, in the noblest-minded, will enable you to do. But, O the dear soul! She will find a difference between theory and practice!

Lucy wept. Her grief was silent. Mrs Selby dried her eyes several times. My dear Lady G——, said she, at last, how shall we break this to Harriet? You must do it, and she will apply to me for comfort. Pray, Mr Selby, be patient. You must not reflect upon Sir Charles Grandi

son.

Indeed you should not, sir, said I. He is to

be pitied. I will read you the concluding part of his last letter.

I did.

But Mr Selby would not be pacified. He tried to blame my brother.

After all, my dear, these lords of the creation are more violent, more unreasonable, and, of consequence, more silly and perverse, more babies, if you please, than we women, when they are disappointed in anything they set their hearts upon. But in every case, I believe, one extreme borders on another. What a fool has Otway made of Castalio, raving against the whole sex, by a common-place invective, on a mere temporary disappointment, when the fault, and all the dreadful consequences that attended it, were owing to his own baseness of heart, in being ashamed to acquaint his brother that he meant honourable love to the unhappy orphan, who was entitled to inviolable protection! Whenever I saw this play, I pitied the impetuous Polydore more than I did the blubbering great boy Castalio, though I thought both brothers deserved to be hanged.

As we were meditating how to break this matter to our lovely friend, Mrs Shirley came to Selby-House in her chariot. We immediately acquainted her with it. No surprises affect her steady soul. This can't be helped, said she. Our dear girl herself expects it. May I read the letter that contains the affecting tidings?

She took it. She run it over slightly, to enable herself to speak to the contents.-Excellent man!-How happy should we have been, blessed with the enjoyment of our wishes! But you, Mrs Selby, and I, have always pitied Lady Clementina. His generous regard for our child is too apparent for his own tranquillity. God comfort him, and our Harriet! O the dear creature! Her fading cheeks have shewn the struggles of her heart in such an expectation--Where is my child?

I was running out to see for her, and met her, just ascending the steps that lead from the garden into the house. Your grandmamma, my love, said I

I hear she is come, answered she. I am hastening to pay my duty to her.

But how do you, Harriet?

A little better for the air. I sent up to Dr Bartlett, and he has let me know that Sir Charles is well, and everybody better; and I am easy.

She hurried in to her grandmother, rejoicing, as she always does, to see her. She kneeled; received her tender blessing. And what brings my grandmamma to her girl?

The day is fine; the air, and the sight of my Harriet, I thought, would do me good. You have letters, I find, from Italy, my love?

I, madam, have not; Dr Bartlett has: but I am not to know the contents, I suppose. Something, I doubt not, that will be thought unwelcome to me, by their not being communicated.

But as long as everybody there is well, I can have patience. Time will reveal all things.

Dr Bartlett, who admires the old lady, and is as much admired by her, came down, and paid his respects to her. Mrs Shirley had returned me the letters. I slid them into the Doctor's hand, unperceived by Miss Byron.

I am told, said she, that my Emily is not well; I will just ask how she does-And was going from us.- -No, don't, my love, said her aunt, taking her hand; Emily shall come down

to us.

I see, said she, by the compassionate looks of every one, that something is the matter. If it be anything that most concerns me to know, don't, through a mistaken tenderness, let me be the last to whom it is communicated. But I guess-with a forced smile.

What does my Harriet guess? said her aunt. Dr Bartlett, replied she, has acquainted me, that Sir Charles Grandison is well; and that his friends are on the recovery. Is it not then easy to guess, by every one's silence on the contents of the letters brought to Dr Bartlett, that Sir Charles is either married, or near being so?What say you, my good Dr Bartlett?

He was silent, but tears were in his eyes. She turned round, and saw us with our handkerchiefs at ours. Her uncle, rising from his seat, stood with his back to us, at one of the windows.

me.

Well, my dear friends, you are all grieved for It is kind, and I can thank you for your concern for me, because the man is Sir Charles Grandison.—And so, Doctor, laying her hands upon his, he is actually married? God Almighty, piously bending one knee, make him and his Clementina happy!-Well, my dearest dear friends, and what is there in this, more than I expected?

Her aunt embraced her.

Her uncle ran to her, and clasped his arms about her. Now, now, said he, have you overcome me, my niece! for the future, I never will dispute with you on some of the arguments I have heretofore held against your sex. Were all women like you

Her grandmother, as she sat, held out her open arms: My own Harriet! child of my heart! let me fold you to it!-She ran to her, and clasped her knees, as the old lady threw her arms about her neck-Pray for me, however, my grandmamma-that I may act up to my judgment, and as your child, and my Aunt Selby's!-It is a trial-I own it-But permit me to withdraw for a few moments.

She arose, and was hastening out of the room; but her aunt took her hand: My dearest love! said she, Sir Charles Grandison is not married -But

Why, why, interrupted she, if it must be so, is it not so?

At that moment came in Emily. She had been trying to suppress her concern, and fancied, it seems, that she had recovered her presence of mind; but the moment she saw her beloved Miss Byron, her fortitude forsook her. She gushed into tears, and, sobbing, would have quitted the room; but Miss Byron, stepping after her, caught her arm; My Emily, my love, my friend, my sister! fly me not: let me give you an example, my dear!-I am not ashamed to own myself affected; but I have fortitude, I hope!-Sir Charles Grandison, when he could not be happy from his own affairs, made himself a partaker in the happiness of others; and shall not you and I, after so great an example, rejoice in his ?

I am, I am-grieved, replied the sobbing girl, for my Miss Byron. I don't love Italian ladies! Were you, madam, turning to her, Lady Grandison, I should be the happiest creature in the world.

But, Dr Bartlett, said I, may we not, now that Miss Byron knows the worst, communicate to her the contents of these letters?

I hope you will, sir, said Mrs Shirley. You see that my Harriet is a noble girl.

I rely upon your judgments, ladies, answered the Doctor, and put the letters into Mrs Shirley's hands.

I have read them, said I. We will leave Mrs Shirley, Mrs Selby, and Miss Byron, together. We, Lucy, Nancy, Emily, will take a walk in the garden. Shall we have your company, Dr Bartlett? I saw he was desirous to withdraw. Lucy desired to stay behind. Harriet looked as if she wished Lucy to stay; and I led the other two into the garden, Dr Bartlett leaving us at the entrance into it; and I told them the contents of the letters as we walked.

They were greatly affected, as I thought they would be, which made me lead them out. Lord G—— joined us in our walk, as well as in our concern; so that the dear Harriet had none but comforters left about her, who enabled her to support her spirits; for Mrs Shirley and Mrs Selby had always applauded the preference their beloved child was so ready to give to Clementina, because of her malady, though, it is evident, against their wishes. There were never three nobler women related to each other than Mrs Shirley, Mrs Selby, and Miss Byron. But Mr Selby is by no means satisfied, that my brother, loving Harriet, as he evidently does, should be so ready to leave her, and go to Italy. His censure arises from his love to my brother and to his niece; but I need not tell you, that, though a man, he has not a soul half so capacious as that of either of the three ladies I have named.

At our return from our little walk, it was lovely to see Harriet take her Emily aside to comfort her, and to plead with her in favour of my brother's obligations, as afterwards she did

When she and I were alone, she took grateful notice of the concluding part of the third letter; where she is mentioned with so much tenderness, and in a manner so truly worthy of the character of the politest of men, as well respecting herself as her sex, charging himself with vanity and presumption, but to suppose to himself, that Miss Byron wanted his compassion, or had the tender regard for him, that he avows for her. She pleased herself, that he had not seen the very great esteem she had for him, as you and I had done: And how could he, you know? said she; for he and I were not often together; and I was under obligation enough to him to make him attribute my regard to gratitude: but it is plain, proceeded she, that he loves the poor Harriet Don't you think so? and perhaps would have given her a preference to all other women, had he not been circumstanced as he was. Well, God bless him! added she; he was my first love; and I never will have any other-Don't blame me for this declaration, my dear Lady G. My grandmamma, as well as you, once chid me for saying so, and called me romancer -But is not the man Sir Charles Grandison ? But, alas! with all these appearances, it is easy to see, that this amiable creature's solitary hours are heavy ones. She has got a habit of sighing. She rises with swelled eyes: sleep forsakes her her appetite fails: and she is very sensible of all this; as she shews by the pains she takes to conceal the alteration.

--

:

And must Harriet Byron, blessed with beauty so unequalled; health so blooming; a temper so even; passions so governable; generous and grateful, even to heroism; superior to every woman in frankness of heart, in true delicacy, and in an understanding and judgment beyond her years-Must she be offered up, as a victim on the altar of hopeless love!-I deprecate such a fate; I cannot allow the other sex such a triumph, though the man be my brother. It is, however, none; on the contrary, it is apparently a grief to his noble and truly manly heart, that so excellent a creature cannot be the sole mistress of it.

Mr Deane came hither this morning. He is a valuable man. He opened his heart to me about an hour ago. He always, he says, designed Miss Byron for the heiress of the principal part of his possessions; and he let me know his circumstances, which are great. It is, I am convinced, true policy to be good. Young and old, rich and poor, dote upon Miss Byron. You remember what her uncle says in his ludicrous letter to her, covertly praising her, by pretending to find fault with her, that he is more noted for being the uncle of Miss Byron, than she is for being his niece, though of so long standing in the county: and I assure you, he is

VOL. VIII.

much respected too. But such beauty, such affability, a character so benevolent, so frank, so pious, yet so cheerful and unaffected, as hers is, must command the veneration and love of every one.

Mr Deane is extremely apprehensive of her declining health. He believes her in a consumption; and has brought a physician of his intimate acquaintance to visit her: but she and we all are convinced, that medicine will not reach her case: and she affected to be startled at his supposing she was in so bad a way, on purpose, as she owned, to avoid his kind impor tunity to take advice in a malady that nothing but time and patience can cure.

A charming correspondence is carried on between Harriet and the Countess of DHarriet is all frankness in it; so is Lady DOne day I hope to procure you a sight of their letters. I am allowed to enclose a copy of the Countess's last. You will see the force of the reasoning on Harriet's declaration, that she will never think of a second lover. Her grandmother is entirely with the Countess. So am Ithough the first was Sir Charles Grandison.

What will become of Lady Olivia, if the alliance between my brother and the Bologna family take effect?-She has her emissaries, who I suppose will soon apprize her of it. How will, she flame out! I suppose you, who correspond with her, will soon be troubled with her invectives on this subject.

All here wish for you and Lord L—. For my part, I long to see you both, and to be seen by you. You never could see me more to my advantage than now. We have nothing between us but-"What your lordship pleases." My dearest life, you have no choice." "You prevent me, my lord, in all my wishes."

I have told him, in love, of some of his foibles; and he thanks me for my instruction; and is resolved to be all I wish him to be.

I have made discoveries in his favour-More wit, more humour, more good sense, more learning, than I had ever, till now, that I was willing to inquire after those qualities in him, imagined he had. He allows me to have a vast share of good understanding; and so he ought; when I have made such discoveries to his advantage.

In short, we so monstrously improve upon each other, that if we go on thus, we shall hardly know ourselves to be the same man and woman that made such awkward figures in the eyes of all beholders a few months ago at St George's Church; and must be married over again, to be sure of each other; for you must believe, that we would not be the same odd souls we then were, on any account.

What raises him with me, is the good opinion everybody here has of him. They also have found him out to be a man of sense, a good-natured man; nay, (would you believe it?) a hand

I

some man ; and all these people having deserved ly the reputation of good sense, penetration, and so forth, I cannot contradict them with credit to myself. When we married folks have made a silly choice, we should in policy, you know, for the credit of our judgment, try to make the best of it. I could name you half a score people who are continually praising, the man his wife, the woman her husband, who, were they at liberty to choose again, would be hanged before they would renew their bargain.

Let me tell you, that Emily will make an excellent wife, and mistress of a family. Miss Byron is one of the best economists, and yet one of the finest ladies, in the county. As soon as she came down, she resumed the family direction, in ease of her aunt; which was her province before she came to London. I thought my-self a tolerable manager: But she has for ever stopt my mouth on this subject. Such a succession of orderliness, if I may so call it! One right thing is an introduction to another; and all is in such a method, that it seems impossible for the meanest servants to mistake their duty. Such harmony, such observance, yet such pleasure in every countenance !-But she is mistress of so much ease, so much dignity, and so much condescension, that she is worshipped by all the servants; and it is observable, hardly ever was heard to direct twice the same thing to be done, or remembered.

The servants have generally time for themselves, an hour or two in a day. Her orders are given over night and as the family live in a genteel manner, they are never surprised, or put out of course, by company. The poor only have the less of the remnants, if visitors or guests come in unexpectedly; and in such case, she says, they shall fare better another day. Emily is taking minutes of all her management: she is resolved to imitate her in everything. Hence it is, that I say the girl will make one of the best wives in England: Yet, how the dear Harriet manages it, I cannot tell; for we hardly ever miss her. But early hours, and method, and ease, without hurry, will do everything.

POSTSCRIPT.

LORD bless me, my dear Lady L! I have been frightened out of my wits. This Lord G-! What do we do by marriage, but double our cares?—He was taken very ill two hours ago: a kind of fit. The first reflection that crossed me, when he was at worst, was thisWhat a wretch was I, to vex this poor man as I have done!-Happy, happy is the wife, in the depth of her affliction, on the loss of a worthy husband; happy the husband, if he must be separated from a good wife; who has no material cause for self-reproach to embitter reflection, as to his or her conduct to the departed. Ah, Caro

line, how little do we know of ourselves, till the hour of trial comes! I find I have more love for Lord G- than I thought I had, or could have, for any man!

How have I exposed myself!-But they none of them upbraid me with my apprehensions for the honest man. He did frighten me!-A wretch!-In his childhood he was troubled with these oddities, it seems!—He is so well, that I had a good mind to quarrel with him for terrifying me as he did. For better and for worse! A cheat!-He should have told me that he had been subject to such an infirmity -And then, from his apprehended fits, though involuntarily, I should have claimed allowance for my real, though wilful ones. In which, however, I cheated not him. He saw me in them many and many a good time, before marriage.

I have this moment yours. I thought what would be the case with Olivia. She has certainly heard of the happy turn at Bologna, as they there must think it; or she would not resolve to leave England so soon, when she had determined to stay here till my brother's return. Unhappy woman!-Harriet pities her!-But she has pity for every one that wants it.

and

Repeatedly all here are earnest to get you your lord with us. Do, come if you can-Were it but one week; and perhaps we will go up together. If you don't come soon, your people will not suffer you to come one while. After all, my dear, these men are, as Aunt Nell would say, odious creatures. You are a good forgiving soul; but that am not I. In a few months time I shall be as grave as a cat, I suppose: but the sorry fellow knows nothing of the matter yet. Adieu, Lady L—.

LETTER CLXXV.

FROM THE COUNTESS OF D TO MISS

BYRON.

[Enclosed in the preceding.]

July 1.

My dear Harriet has allowed me to write to her with the affectionate freedom of a mother. As such, I may go on to urge a subject disagreeable to her: when not only the welfare of both my children is concerned in it, but when her own honour, her own delicacy of sentiment, is peculiarly interested.

Pure and noble as your heart is, it is misleading you, my love; Oh, my Harriet, into what a labyrinth!-Have you kept a copy, my dear, of your last letter to me? It is all amiable, all yourself-But it is Harriet Byron again, in need