"To take eternal leave? Not to vouchsafe to see him, would be scorn, Which the fair soul of gentle CLEMENTINA Could never harbour." Accordingly, on his arrival, not unsent to, but almost unexpected, down she came to tea; and with such a grace !-Indeed, my dear and venerable Mrs Shirley, she will be a good girl. All will come right. She was a little solemn, indeed, in her serenity; but she plainly put herself forward to speak. She seemed to pity the Count's confusion, (who, poor soul! knew not how to speak to her,) and relieved it by inquiring after his health, as he had not been well. She addressed herself to him once or twice on indifferent subjects; and pleased everybody by her behaviour to him. Nay, they talked toge ther a good while at the window, he, and she, and Mrs Beaumont, very freely about England and Italy; comparing, in a few instances, these gardens with those of the Marquis at Bologna. No very interesting conversation indeed; but the good Count thought himself in paradise. Yet he fears he shall to-morrow be allowed to take a long, long leave of her. He goes to France and Italy; not to Spain. I like him for that; it would only be distressing himself farther, he says, were he to amuse a worthy family, who have invited him thither with a view that can never be answered, while Clementina and prate of what we can, and what we can-not what we ought, and what we ought-not, to do: But none of us stay-till-we-are-asked mortals know what we shall, or can, do, till we are tried by the power of determining being put into our hands. Was it possible for me to have loved that sorry wretch Anderson, so well as I really love my honest Lord G? It was not. But though I name that creature myself, never do you presume to do it. I blush even to this hour at fooking back to certain giddinesses that debased my character-But let me quit a subject so disagreeable. Lady Clementina has had a bad night, it seems.-Came not down to breakfast. The poor enamoretto was in despair. I tried to hearten him up a little: but my brother will not let anybody flatter him with a hope that too probably may end in disappointment. Yonder [I am writing at my window, you must know is the fair inflexible musing in the garden. I have a good mind to call to her; for I see by her motions and downcast looks, that reverie is no favourable sign for the Count-No need of my calling to her; my brother has this minute joined her. As soon as he came in sight, she went to him.-Now, dear brother, put in a word for the poor man. Well, but, Lucy, this poor lord of yours must come among us. He shall not carry you to Ireland this year. Let all who would be good husbands and good wives, come to GrandisonHall, and learn: and, pray, let them come while I am here. Yet I have something to say against our Harriet too. She is so taken up with her heroic friendship, that Clementina is now almost the only subject of her pen. What godlike instances of my brother's goodness does she leave untold, though she admires him for them, as much as ever! Every rising, every setting sun, are witnesses of his divine philanthropy. I suppose she looks upon his praises now, to be her own. Well she may. Never were hearts so united, so formed, for one another. But Harriet used to praise herself formerly; Did she not, uncle Selby? Believe me, I will praise my honest man whenever he gives me cause. For instance; yesterday, I was well enough pleased with what he said to my brother. You, Sir Charles, ought not to give yourself up to a private life. Your country has a claim upon such a character as yours. Without doubt, said I-Shall we, my lord, make my brother an ambassador, or a justice of peace? Lord G— rubbed his forehead; but seeing me smile, his countenance brightened up. Don't you know, Charlotte, said my brother, that nothing but the engagements our noble guests have given me, would have prevented me from acting in the usual character you have last named? O that you had, brother! What admirable causes would then have been brought before us, en dernier ressort! How delightfully would your time have been taken up with the appeals of scolding wives, forsaken damsels, and witches presumptive! Lady G must be herself, whatever be the subject, replied Sir Charles. You and I love her, my lord, for her charming vivacity. But think you, my sister, that a day spent in doing good, be the objects of it ever so low, is not more pleasing to reflect upon, than a day of the most elegant indulgence? Would persons of sense and distinction, (myself out of the question,) more frequently than they do, undertake the task, it would be lighter to every one, and would keep the great power vested in this class of magistrates, and which is every year increasing, out of mean and mercenary hands. And, surely, men of consideration in the world owe it to their tenants, neighbours, and to those of their fellowcreatures, to whose industry they are obliged for their affluence, to employ in their service those advantages of rank and education, which make it, perhaps, easy for them to clear up and adjust, in half an hour, matters that would be of endless perplexity and entanglement to the parties concerned. Mind this, uncle Selby; for I think you are too fond of your own ways, and your own hours, to do your duty as an active justice, though of the quorum. But I should have told you, Lucy, how this conversation began. I got the occasion for it out of Dr Bartlett afterwards. You must know, that I visit him now and then as Harriet used to do, to learn some of my brother's good deeds, that otherwise would not come to our knowledge; by which I understand, that notwithstanding he gives his guests so much of his company, and appears so easy and free among us, yet, that every beneficent scheme is going on: not one improvement stands still: he knows not what it is to be one moment idle. Dr Bartlett tells me, that some gentlemen of prime consideration in the county, have been offering my brother their interest against the next election. He modestly acknowledged the grateful sense he had of the honour done him ; but declined it for the present, as having been too little a while returned into his own country, after so long an absence, to be as yet fit for a trust so important. We young men, said he, are apt to be warm: when we have not studied a point thoroughly, we act upon hasty conclusions, and sometimes support, sometimes oppose, on insufficient grounds. I would not be under engagements to any party: neither can I think of contributing to destroy the morals and health of all the country people round me, to make myself what is called an interest. Forgive me, gentlemen: I mean not to slight your favours: but, on such an occasion, I ought to be explicit. But, after the gentlemen were gone, There is a county, Dr Bartlett, said he, of which I should be ambitious to be one of the representatives, had I a natural interest in it; because of the reverence I bear to the good man, to whom in that case I shall have the honour to call myself a colleague. When I can think myself more worthy, than at present I am, of standing in such a civil relation to him, I shall consider him, as another Gamaliel, at whose feet (so long absent as I have been from my native country) I shall be proud to be initiated into the service of the public. It is not difficult to guess who my brotherBut my marmoset is squalling for me; and I must fly to silence it. Now, Lucy, that I have pacified my brat, do I wish you with me at my window. My brother and his Harriet only, are at this instant walking almost under it, engaged in earnest conversation: Seemingly, how pleasing a one! admiration and tenderness mingled in his looks: In her, while he speaks, the most delighted attention: When she answers, love, affiance, modest diffidence, benevolence, compassion; an expression that no pen can describe-Knowing them both so well, and acquainted with their usual behaviour to each other, I can make it all out. She is pleading, I am sure, for Clementina. Charming pleader!-Yet, my dear Mrs Shirley, I fear her reasonings are romantic ones. Our Harriet, you know, was always a little tinctured with heroism; and she goes back in her mind to the time that she thought she could never be the wife of any other man than my brother, (though then hopeless that he could be hers ;) and supposes Clementina in the same situation. When I looked first, I dare say, he was giving her an account of the conversation that passed an hour ago, between him and Clementina. He had his arm round her waist, sometimes pressing her to him as they walked; sometimes standing still; and, on her replies, raising her hand to his lips, with such tender passion-But here she comes. Harriet, if I am a witch, let Lucy know it. Here-read this last paragraph-Have I guessed right at your subject of discourse?-You will tell me, you say, in a letter by itself—Do so. tration. Your happy Harriet has been engaged in the most pleasing conversation. The best of husbands conceals not from her one emotion of his excellent heart. He is greatly distressed for Clementina. It would be unworthy of his character, if he were not: yet he seems to think she may be happy with the Count of Belvedere: that is the point we have been debating. As Sir Charles would have been the man of her choice, but for an invincible obstacle, is it not owing partly to his delicate modesty, that he thinks she may be so? What think you, Lucy? Lady G says, I make Clementina's case my own. Be it so; because so it ought to be. Could I have been happy with Lord D- - ? Call it romantic, if you please, Lady G— I think it impossible that I could, even though I could not form to myself, that Sir Charles Grandison himself would make the tender, the indulgent husband he makes to the happiest of wo men. Sir Charles gave me the particulars of the conversation that passed between him and Lady Clementina in the garden. He observed, that she is not a stranger to the Count's resolution, never to marry while she remains unmarried; and that it is the intention of that nobleman to return to Italy, and not go to Spain at all. Perhaps she had her information either from Camilla or Laura; who both heard him declare as much. If she has condescended to hear them talk on a subject which everybody else has studiously avoided, she may also have heard from them many other particulars greatly to the Count's honour; for they are his admirers and well-wishers. Sir Charles believes she will take a gracious leave of the Count before he sets out. THE solemn, the parting interview, was to have been in my drawing-room this afternoon; but Lady Clementina has given the Count an unexpected and joyful reprieve. She dined in company. We were all charmed with her free and easy deportment, as well to the Count as to everybody else. His was not so easy. He, intending to bespeak the favour of half an hour's audience of her, in order to take leave of her, when she arose from table, was in visible agitations. How the poor man trembled! With what awe, with what reverence, as he sat, did he glance towards her! How did everybody pity him, and by their eyes beseech her pity for him! yet, in the same moment, our eyes fell under hers, as she looked upon each person; we all seemingly unwilling to have her think we entreated for him by them. I thought I read in her lovely countenance, more than once, compassion for him; yet, the breath hard-fetched, as often shewed a sigh suppressed, that indicated, I imagined, a wish (also suppressed) after a life more eligible to her than the nuptial. At last, when we women arose from table, he, as a man who must address her in haste, or be unable at all to do it, stept towards her; retreated, when near her, as irresolute; and again advancing, profoundly bowing, Madam, madam, said he, hesitatingly-putting out his hand, as if he would have taken hers; but withdrawing it hastily, before he touched it-I hope-I beg allow me-I beseech you-one parting moment. She pitied his confusion: My lord, said she, we see you to-morrow in the afternoon. [Allow me, madam, to me. She curtseyed to him, and withdrew with some little precipitation; but with a dignity that never forsakes her. Every man, it seems, congratulated the Count. Every woman (when withdrawn with her) Clementina. The Marchioness folded her in her maternal bosom-My daughter! My beloved daughter! My Clementina! was all she said, tears trickling down her cheeks.-O my mamma!-kneeling (affected by her mother's tears) -O my mamina!-was all the daughter could say. And, rising, took Mrs Beaumont's hand, and retired with her to her own apartment. WE see her now in the garden with that excellent woman, arm in arm, in earnest talk, as we sit by the window. Wednesday Night. AND now, my grandmamma, a word or two of dear Northamptonshire. I have a letter from Emily. I enclose it, with a copy of my answer. I hope it is not a breach of confidence to communicate them both to you, and through you, madam, to my aunt Selby. At present, I wish the contents may be a secret to everybody else. Don't let Lucy repine at her distant residence, if it must be in Ireland. It is generally the pri vilege of husbands to draw their wives after them. Sir Charles says it is but a trip to that kingdom; and, having an estate in it, which he is intent upon improving, he will be her visitor; and so will his Harriet, you need not question, if he make her the offer of accompanying him. To you, my grandmamma, I know every part of the British dominions, where your friends have a natural call, is Northamptonshire. Lucy's grandmother, however, will miss her: But has not she a Lucy in her Nancy? And has not her grandson James a chance (if Patty Holles will favour him) to carry to her another granddaughter? Besides, Lord Reresby, who is so good-natured a man, will not be in haste to quit the county where he has obtained so rich a prize. Sir Charles expects them both with him for a month at least, before they leave England. Happy! happy! as the sixteenth of Novem ber to me, may be the twenty-fourth of May to Lucy! prays Her ever-affectionate HARRIET GRANDISON. LETTER CCCXI. MISS EMILY JERVOIS TO LADY GRANDISON. Saturday, May 19. I HAVE Something to communicate to you, my dear Lady Grandison, and take your advice about; yet, so young a creature as I am, I am quite ashamed. But you must keep my secret from every living soul, and from my guardian too, for the present, since, in writing to you, I think I write to him, as you know all his heart, and are so prudent a lady. It is true, I was (or I might have been, I should rather say) a forward girl with regard to him; but then my whole heart was captivated by his perfections, by his greatness of mind; that was all. May not a creature, though ever so young, admire a good man's goodness? May she not have a deep sense of gratitude for kindness conferred? That gratitude may indeed, as she grows up, engage her too deeply; and I found myself in danger; but made my escape in time. Thank God!—and thank you, who assisted me!-What an excellent lady are you, that one can speak to you of these tender matters! But you are the queen of our sex, and sit enthroned, holding out your sceptre in pity to one poor girl, and raising another, and another; for it is glory enough for you to call the man yours, for whom so many hearts have sighed in secret. But this was always my way-I never sat myself down to write to my guardian or to you, but my preambles were longer than my matter-To the point then-but be sure, keep my secret Here everybody is fond of Sir Edward Beauchamp. He is indeed a very agreeable man. Next to my guardian, I think him the most agreeable of men. He is always coming down to us. I cannot but see that he is particularly obliging to me. I really believe, young as I am, he loves me: but everybody is so silent about him: yet they slide away, and leave us together very often. It looks as if all favoured him; yet would not interfere. He has not made any declaration of love neither. I am so young a creature, you know; and to be sure he is a very prudent man. My guardian dearly loves him- Who does not? His address is so gentle: his words are so soothing: his voice-To be sure he is a very amiable man! Now tell me freely-Do you think my guardian (but pray only sound him-I am so young a creature, you know) would be displeased if matters were to come to something in time?-Three or four years hence, suppose, if Sir Edward would think it worth his while to stay or so silly a creature?-I would not think of sooner. If not, I would not allow myself to be so much in his company, you know. He has a very good estate; and though he is ten or twelve years older than I, yet he never will be more than that; since every year that goes over his head, will go over mine likewise -So you will be pleased to give me your opinion. And here all the world is for marrying, I think. Miss Selby is as good as gone, you know. Her brother courts Miss Patty Holles: Miss Kitty is not without her humble servant. Nay, Miss Nancy Selby, for that matter-But let these intelligences come from themselves. You, my dear Lady Grandison, have led up this dance-So happy as you are-I think it is a right thing for young women to marry when young men are so desirous to copy Sir Charles Grandison. Hasten to me your advice, if but in six lines. We expect Sir Edward down next week. I must like his company, because he is always telling us one charming thing or other of my guardian; and because he so sincerely rejoices in your happiness and his. God continue it to you both! This is our prayer night and morning, for our own sakes, as well as yours, believe Your ever-obliged and affectionate LETTER CCCXII. LADY GRANDISON TO MISS JERVOIS. Tuesday, May 22. I HAVE a great opinion of your prudence, my love; and I have as high a one of Sir Edward Beauchamp's honour and discretion. His fortune, his merit, are unexceptionable. Your guardian loves him. If you could certainly love Sir Edward above all men, and he you above all women, I am of opinion your guardian will think no alliance can be happier for both, and for himself too; for you know, my dear, that your welfare is near his heart. Let me, my sweet Emily, refer you, as to your conduct on this occasion, to my own almost-unerring counsellors, my grandmamma and aunt Selby. Don't be ashamed to open your heart to them: Are you not under their wings? I will so manage, that they shall lead the way to your freedom with them. Your difficulties by this means will be lessened. Sir Charles will pay the greatest attention to their advice. But yet I must insist, that the reference to them shall not deprive of my Emily's confidence, Her ever-affectionate sister, 's I will proceed with an account of what so much engages the attention of every one here. I told you in one of my former, that Lady Ghad shewn to Mrs Beaumont Lucy's account of the conversation held at Shirley-Manor, on the subject of a first love, with Lady G sprightly decision upon it, and upon the appeal made to me. I must now tell you, that Mrs Beaumont prevailed upon Lady Clementina to desire me to read it to her. She made her request; and I obeyed. Mrs Beaumont was present. Not a word by way of application did either she or I suggest, when I had done reading. Lady Clementina's complexion often changed as I read. She was not at all diverted with those lively parts of Lady G's decision, that I ventured to read; though she is an admirer of her sprightly vein. She looked down most of the time in solemn silence. And at last, when I had ended, she, sighing, started, as if from a reverie, arose, curtseyed, and withdrew; not having once opened her lips on the subject. The Bishop, Signor Jeronymo, and the two young lords, just now joined to request Sir Charles to become avowedly an advocate for the Count to Lady Clementina. They urged, that she was balancing in his favour; and that Sir Charles's weight would turn the scale: but Sir Charles not only desired to be excused, but begged that she might not be solicited by anybody on that subject-May she not, asked he, be reasoning with herself, and considering what she can do, with justice to the Count and herself? Her future peace of mind is concerned that her determination now shall be all her own. Leave her no room for after-regret, for having been persuaded against her mind. If persuasions only are wanting, will she not wrap herself up in reserve, to keep herself in countenance for not having been persuaded before? Pursuant to this advice, the Marchioness, in a conversation with her beloved daughter, that might have led to the subject on which their hearts are fixed, declined it; saying, Whatever my child shall determine upon, with regard to any plan for her future life, let her whole heart be in it: her choice shall be ours. Thursday Afternoon. LADY CLEMENTINA excused herself from breakfasting with us; but obliged us with her company at dinner. How does Sir Charles's countenance always shine, when he finds himself surrounded at table by his friends! The larger the circle, the more diffused is his cheerfulness. With what delight does his Jeronymo meditate him! He dwells upon what he says; and by his eyes, cast with less complacency on an interrupter, seems to wish every one silent, when Sir Charles's lips begin to open. After he had gone round his ample table, saying something obliging to all, (in a manner calling forth every one, to say something in his or her own way,) he addressed himself more particularly to the Count, and led him into subjects both learned and familiar, in which he knew he could shine; and in which he did. It was doubly kind in Sir Charles to do so; for the poor man's reverence for the mistress of his fate, had taken all courage from his love, and he wanted to be drawn out. Never can bashful merit appear to so much advantage, as in Sir Charles's address to it. How much soul did Lady Clementina shew in her eyes! She was very attentive to every one that spoke. She asked the Count questions, more than once, on some of the subjects he was led to talk of. My eyes, as I could feel, glistened when she did, to see how those of her father and mother rejoiced, as I may say, on the notice she took of him. Lady Clementina could not but observe how delightfully her complaisance to the Count was received by all her family.-Is it possible, thought I, more than once, were I in the situation of this admirable lady, to avoid obliging such indulgent parents with the grant of all their wishes, that depended on myself; having given up voluntarily the man I preferred to all others? Signor Sebastiano dropt a hint once, of his own, and the Count's, and Signor Juliano's intention of setting out; mentioning a care for their baggage, which by this time, he supposed, had reached Dover: but Clementina turning an attentive ear to what he said, Sir Charles was afraid she would take this hint as a design to hasten her resolution; and said, We will not sadden our hearts with the thoughts of parting with any of our friends. Thursday Evening, eight o'clock. A LETTER is this moment brought from town by an especial messenger, to Signor Jeronymo. The whole family, Lady Clementina excepted, are got together upon the contents. Ten o'clock. THE Marchioness, just now taking my hand, tears starting in her eyes, Ah, madam, said she, |