lord. Him, I think, of all the men I know, (my uncle not excepted,) I could soonest intrust with a secret. But have I, Lucy, any to reveal? It is, I hope, a secret to myself, that never will be unfolded, even to myself, that I love a man, who has not made professions of love to me. As to Sir Charles Grandison-But have done, Harriet! Thou hast named a man, that will lead thee-Whither will it lead me?

More than I am at present my own, I am, and will be ever, my dear Lucy,

Your affectionate

HARRIET BYRON.

LETTER LXXI.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

Monday, March 13. I WILL now tell you who the lady is to whom the two sisters have given their interest.

It is Lady Anne S, the only daughter of the Earl of S-. A vast fortune, it seems, independent of her father; and yet certain of a very great one from him. She is to be here this very afternoon, on a visit to the two ladies. With all my heart. I hope she is a very agreeable lady. I hope she has a capacious mind. I hope I don't know what to hope-And why? Because I find myself out to be a selfish wretch, and don't wish her to be so fine and so good a woman, as I say I do. Is love, if I must own love, a narrower of the heart?-I don't know whether, while it is in suspense, and is only on one side, it be not the parent of jealousy, envy, dissimulation; making the person pretend generosity, disinterestedness, and I cannot tell what; but secretly wishing that her rival may not be so worthy, so lovely, as she pretends to wish her to be.-Ah, Lucy! were one sure, one could afford to be generous; one might then look down with pity upon a rival, instead of being mortified with apprehensions of being looked down upon.

But I will be just to the education given me, and the examples set me. Whatever I shall be able to do or to wish, while I am in suspense; when any happy woman becomes the wife of Sir Charles Grandison, I will revere her; and wish her, for his sake as well as her own, all the felicities that this world can afford; and if I cannot do this from my heart, I will disown that heart.

The two ladies set upon Mr Grandison on Sunday, to get out of him the business that carried Sir Charles so often of late to Canterbury. But though he owned that he was not enjoined secrecy, he affected to amuse them, and strangely to romance; hinting to them a story of a fine woman in love with him, and he with her ;

VOL. VIII.

yet neither of them thinking of marriage: Mr Grandison valued not truth, nor scrupled solemn words, though ludicrously uttered, to make the most improbable stuff perplexing and teazing; and then the wretch laughed immoderately at the suspense he supposed he had caused.

What witless creatures, what mere nothings, are these beaux, fine fellows, and laughers, of men! How silly must they think us women! -And how silly indeed are such of us, as can keep in countenance, at our own expense, their folly !

He was left alone with me for half an hour last night; and, in a very serious manner, besought me to receive his addresses. I was greatly displeased with the two sisters; for I thought they intended to give him this opportunity, by their manner of withdrawing. Surely, thought I, I am not sunk so low in the eyes of the ladies of such a family as this, as to be thought by them a fit wife to the only worthless person in it, because I have not the fortune of Lady Anne S. I will hear, thought I, what Miss Grandison says to this; and although I had made excuses to my cousins Reeves, at their request, for staying here longer than I had intended, I will get away to town as fast as I can. as they are of the name of Grandison, thought I, the name only won't do with Harriet Byron. I am as proud as they.

Proud

I said nothing of my resentment; but told both ladies, the moment I saw them, of Mr Grandison's declaration. They expressed themselves highly displeased with him for it; and said they would talk to him. Miss Grandison said she wondered at his presumption. His fortune was indeed very considerable, she said, notwithstanding the extravagance of his youth; but it was a high degree of confidence, in a man of such free principles, to think himself entitled to countenance from-in short, from such a lady as your Harriet, Lucy; whatever you may think of her in these days of her humiliation.

She added the goodness of my heart to her compliment. I hope it is not a bad one. Then it was that I told them of my thoughts of going to town on the occasion; and the two ladies instantly went to their cousin, and talked to him in such a manner, that he promised, if no more notice were taken of the matter, never again to give occasion for them to reprimand him on this subject. He had, indeed, he owned, no very strong aspirations after matrimony; and had balanced about it a good while, before he could allow himself to declare his passion so seriously; but only, as it was probable, that he might, at one time or other, enter the pale, he thought he never in his life saw a woman with whom he could be so happy as with me.

But you see, Lucy, by this address of Mr Grandison, that nothing is thought of in the family of another nature. What makes me a little more affected than otherwise I believe I

N

tor himself. They knew, however, enough, they said, to reverence him as one of the most worthy and most pious of men. They believed, that he knew all the secrets of their brother's heart. Strange, methinks, that these secrets lie so deep! Yet there does not seem anything so very forbidding, either in Sir Charles or the Doctor, but that one might ask them a few innocent questions. And yet I did not use to be so very curious neither. Why should I be more so than his sisters?—Yet persons coming strangers into a family of extraordinary merit, are apt, I believe, to be more inquisitive about the affairs and particularities of that family, than those who make a part of it; and when they have no other motive for their curiosity, than a desire to applaud and imitate, I see not any great harm in it.

I was also very anxious to know, what, at so early an age (for Sir Charles was not then eighteen,) were the faults he found with the governor appointed for him. It seems, the man was not only profligate himself, but, in order to keep himself in countenance, laid snares for the young gentleman's virtue; which, however, he had the happiness to escape; though at an age in which youth is generally unguarded. This man was also contentious, quarrelsome, and a drinker; and yet, (as Sir Charles at the time acknowledged to his sisters,) it had so very indifferent an appearance, for a young man to find fault with his governor, that, as well for the appearance-sake, as for the man's, he was very loath to complain, till he became insupportable. It was mentioned, as it ought, greatly to the honour of the young gentleman's frankness and magnanimity, that when, at last, he found himself obliged to complain of this wicked man to his father, he gave him a copy of the letter he wrote, as soon as he sent it away. You may make, sir, said he, what use you please of the step I have taken. You see my charge. I have not aggravated it. Only let me caution you, that, as I have not given you by my own misconduct any advantage over me, you do not make a still worse figure in my reply, if you give me occasion to justify my charge. My father loves his son. I must be his son. An altercation cannot end in your favour.

But on inquiry into the behaviour of this bad man, (who might have tainted the morals of one of the finest youths on earth,) which the son besought the father to make, before he paid any regard to his complaints, Sir Thomas dismissed him, and made a compliment to his son, that he should have no other governor for the future, than his own discretion.*

Miss Jervois's history is briefly this:

She had one of the best of fathers; her mother is one of the worst of women. A terma

gant, a swearer, a drinker, unchaste-Poor Mr Jervois!-I have told you, that he (a meek man) was obliged to abandon his country, to avoid her. Yet she wants to have her daughter under her own tuition-Terrible!-Sir Charles has had trouble with her. He expects to have more-Poor Miss Jervois !

Miss Emily's fortune is very great. The ladies say, not less than 50,000l. Her father was an Italian and Turkey merchant; and Sir Charles, by his management, has augmented it to that sum, by the recovery of some thousands of pounds, which Mr Jervois had thought desperate.

AND thus have I brought down, as briefly as I was able, though writing almost night and day, (and greatly indulged in the latter by the ladies, who saw my heart was in the task,) the history of this family, to the time when I had the happiness (by means, however, most shockingly undesirable) to be first acquainted with it.

And now a word or two to present situations. Sir Charles is not yet come down, Lucy. And this is Monday!-Very well!-He made excuses by his cousin Grandison, who came down with my cousin Reeves on Sunday morning ; and both went up together yesterday- Vastly busy, no doubt !-He will be here to-morrow, I think, he says. His excuses were to his sisters and Lord L-. I am glad he did not give himself the importance with your Harriet, to make any to her on his absence.

Miss Grandison complains that I open not my heart to her. She wants, she says, to open hers to me; but, as she has intricacies that I cannot have, she says I must begin; she knows not how, she pretends. What her secrets may be, I presume not to guess; but surely I cannot tell a sister, who, with her sister, favours another woman, that I have a regard for her brother; and that before I can be sure he has any for me.

She will play me a trick, she just now told me, if I will not let her know who the happy man in Northamptonshire is, whom I prefer to all others. That there is such a one somewhere, she says, she has no doubt; and if she find it out before I tell her, she will give me no quarter, speaking in the military phrase; which sometimes she is apt to do. Lady L― smiles, and eyes me with great attention, when her sister is rallying me, as if she, also, wanted to find out some reason for my refusing Lord D. I told them an hour ago, that I am beset with their eyes, and Lord L-'s; for Lady L-keeps no one secret of her heart, nor, I believe, anybody's else, that she is mistress of, from her

lord. Him, I think, of all the men I know, (my uncle not excepted,) I could soonest intrust with a secret. But have I, Lucy, any to reveal? It is, I hope, a secret to myself, that never will be unfolded, even to myself, that I love a man, who has not made professions of love to me. As to Sir Charles Grandison-But have done, Harriet! Thou hast named a man, that will lead thee-Whither will it lead me? More than I am at present my own, I am, and will be ever, my dear Lucy,

Your affectionate

HARRIET BYRON.

LETTER LXXI.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

Monday, March 13. I WILL now tell you who the lady is to whom the two sisters have given their interest.

It is Lady Anne S, the only daughter of the Earl of S-. A vast fortune, it seems, independent of her father; and yet certain of a very great one from him. She is to be here this very afternoon, on a visit to the two ladies. With all my heart. I hope she is a very agreeable lady. I hope she has a capacious mind. I hope I don't know what to hope-And why? Because I find myself out to be a selfish wretch, and don't wish her to be so fine and so good a woman, as I say I do. Is love, if I must own love, a narrower of the heart?—I don't know whether, while it is in suspense, and is only on one side, it be not the parent of jealousy, envy, dissimulation; making the person pretend generosity, disinterestedness, and I cannot tell what; but secretly wishing that her rival may not be so worthy, so lovely, as she pretends to wish her to be.-Ah, Lucy! were one sure, one could afford to be generous; one might then look down with pity upon a rival, instead of being mortified with apprehensions of being looked down upon.

But I will be just to the education given me, and the examples set me. Whatever I shall be able to do or to wish, while I am in suspense; when any happy woman becomes the wife of Sir Charles Grandison, I will revere her; and wish her, for his sake as well as her own, all the felicities that this world can afford; and if I cannot do this from my heart, I will disown that heart.

The two ladies set upon Mr Grandison on Sunday, to get out of him the business that carried Sir Charles so often of late to Canterbury. But though he owned that he was not enjoined secrecy, he affected to amuse them, and strangely to romance; hinting to them a story of a fine woman in love with him, and he with her ;

VOL. VIII.

yet neither of them thinking of marriage: Mr Grandison valued not truth, nor scrupled solemn words, though ludicrously uttered, to make the most improbable stuff perplexing and teazing; and then the wretch laughed immoderately at the suspense he supposed he had caused.

What witless creatures, what mere nothings, are these beaux, fine fellows, and laughers, of men! How silly must they think us women! -And how silly indeed are such of us, as can keep in countenance, at our own expense, their folly!

He was left alone with me for half an hour last night; and, in a very serious manner, besought me to receive his addresses. I was greatly displeased with the two sisters; for I thought they intended to give him this opportunity, by their manner of withdrawing. Surely, thought I, I am not sunk so low in the eyes of the ladies of such a family as this, as to be thought by them a fit wife to the only worthless person in it, because I have not the fortune of Lady Anne S- I will hear, thought I, what Miss Grandison says to this; and although I had made excuses to my cousins Reeves, at their request, for staying here longer than I had intended, Í will get away to town as fast as I can. Proud as they are of the name of Grandison, thought I, the name only won't do with Harriet Byron. I am as proud as they.

I said nothing of my resentment; but told both ladies, the moment I saw them, of Mr Grandison's declaration. They expressed themselves highly displeased with him for it; and said they would talk to him. Miss Grandison said she wondered at his presumption. His fortune was indeed very considerable, she said, notwithstanding the extravagance of his youth; but it was a high degree of confidence, in a man of such free principles, to think himself entitled to countenance from-in short, from such a lady as your Harriet, Lucy; whatever you may think of her in these days of her humiliation.

She added the goodness of my heart to her compliment. I hope it is not a bad one. Then it was that I told them of my thoughts of going to town on the occasion; and the two ladies instantly went to their cousin, and talked to him in such a manner, that he promised, if no more notice were taken of the matter, never again to give occasion for them to reprimand him on this subject. He had, indeed, he owned, no very strong aspirations after matrimony; and had balanced about it a good while, before he could allow himself to declare his passion so seriously; but only, as it was probable, that he might, at one time or other, enter the pale, he thought he never in his life saw a woman with whom he could be so happy as with me.

But you see, Lucy, by this address of Mr Grandison, that nothing is thought of in the family of another nature. What makes me a little more affected than otherwise I believe I

N

should be, is, that all you, my dear friends, are so much in love with this really great, because good man. It is a very happy circumstance for a young woman, to look forward to a change of condition with a man, of whom every one of her relations highly approves. But what can't be, can't. I shall see what merit Lady Anne has by and by. But if fortune-Indeed, my dear, were I the first princess on earth, I would have no other man, if I might have him. And so I say, that am but poor Harriet Byron. By this time Lady D- will have taken such measures, I hope, as will not disturb me in my resolution. It is fixed, my dear. I cannot help it. I must not, I ought not, I therefore will not, give my hand, whatever has passed between that lady and my aunt, to any man living, and leave a preference in my heart against that man. Gratitude, justice, virtue, decency, all forbid it.

And yet, as I see no hope, nor trace for hope, I have begun to attempt the conquest of my hopeless-What shall I call it ?-Passion? Well, if I must call it so, I must. A child in love matters, if I did not, would find me out, you know. Nor will I, however hopeless, be ashamed of owning it, if I can help it. Is not reason, is not purity, is not delicacy, with me? Is it person that I am in love with, if I am in love? No; it is virtue, it is goodness, it is generosity, it is true politeness, that I am captivated by; all centred in this one good man. What then have I to be ashamed of ?-And yet I am a little ashamed now and then, for all that.

After all, that love, which is founded on fancy, or exterior advantages, is a love, I should think, that may, and oftentimes ought to be overcome: but that which is founded on interior worth ; that blazes out when charity, beneficence, piety, fortitude, are signally exerted by the object beloved; how can such a love as that be restrained, damped, suppressed? How can it, without damping every spark of generous goodness, in what my partial grandmamma calls a fellow heart, admiring and longing to promote and share in such glorious philanthropy?

Philanthropy!-Yes, my uncle; why should women, in compliance with the petulance of narrow-minded men, forbear to use words that some seem to think above them, when no other single word will equally express their sense? It will be said, they need not write. Well then, don't let them read; and carry it a little farther, and they may be forbidden to speak. And every lordly man will then be a Grand Signior, and have his mute attendant.

But won't you think my heart a little at ease, that I can thus trifle? I would fain have it be at ease; and that makes me give way to any cheerful idea that rises to my mind.

The ladies here have made me read to them several passages out of my letters to you before I send them. They are more generous than I think I wish them to be, in allowing me to

skip and pass over sentences and paragraphs as I please; for is not this allowing that I have something to write, or have written something, that they think I ought to keep from their knowledge; and which they do not desire to know? With all my heart. I will not be mean, Lucy.

WELL, Lucy, Lady Anne has been here, and is gone. She is an agreeable woman. I can't say but she is very agreeable. And were she actually Lady Grandison, I think I could respect her. I think I could-But O, my dear friends, what a happy creature was I, before I came to London!

There was a good deal of discourse about Sir Charles. She owned that she thought him the handsomest man she ever saw in her life. She was in love with his great character, she said. She could go nowhere, but he was the subject. She had heard of the affair between him and Sir Hargrave; and made me a hundred compliments on the occasion; and said, that her having heard that I was at Colnebrook, was one inducement to her to make this visit.

It seems she told Miss Grandison, that she thought me the prettiest creature she ever beheld.-Creature was her word-We are all creatures, 'tis true; but I think I never was more displeased with the sound of the word creature, than I was from Lady Anne.

My aunt's letter relating to what passed between her and Lady D- is just brought me. And so Lady D- was greatly chagrined! -I am sorry for it. But, my dear aunt, you say, that she is not displeased with me in the main, and commends my sincerity. That, I hope, is but doing me justice. I am very glad to find that she knew not how to get over my prepossession in favour of another man. It was worthy of herself, and of my Lord D―'s character. I shall always respect her. I hope this affair is quite over.

My grandmamma regrets the uncertainty I am in; but did she not say herself that Sir Charles Grandison was too considerable in his fortune; in his merit? That we were but as the private, he the public, in this particular? What room is there then for regret? Why is the word uncertainty used? We may be certain-And there's an end of it. His sisters can rally me: "Some happy man in Northamptonshire!"-As much as to say, "You must not think of our brother!"-"Lady Anne S

has

a vast fortune." Is not that saying, “What hope can you have, Harriet Byron?”—Well, I don't care. This life is but a passage, a short and a dark passage, to a better; and let one jostle, and another elbow; another push me, because

they know the weakest must give way; yet I will endeavour steadily to pursue my course, till I get through it, and into broad and open day.

One word only more on this subject-There is but one man in the world whom I can honestly marry, my mind continuing what it is. His I cannot expect to be; I must then of necessity be a single woman as long as I live. Well! and where is the great evil of that? Shall I not have less cares, less anxieties?—I shall. And let me beg of my dear friends, that none of you will ever again mention marriage to your HARRIET BYRON.

LETTER LXXII.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

Tuesday, March 14. SIR CHARLES is come at last! He came time enough to breakfast, and with him the good Dr Bartlett. My philosophy, I doubt, is gone again, quite gone; for one while at least. I must take sanctuary, and that very soon, at Selby-house. Every word that passes now, seems to me worth repeating. There is no describing how the presence of this man animates every one in company. But take only a part of what passed.

We were in hopes, Sir Charles, said Lord L, that we should have had the pleasure of seeing you before now.

My heart was with you, my lord; and (taking my hand, for he sat next me, and bowing) the more ardently, I must own, for the pleasure I should have shared with you all, in the company of this your lovely guest.

[What business had he to take my hand? But, indeed, the character of brother might warrant the freedom.]

I was engaged most part of last week in a very melancholy attendance, as Mr Grandison could have informed you.

But not a word of the matter, said Mr Grandison, did I tell the ladies; looking at his two cousins. I amused them, as they love to do all mankind, when they have power.

The ladies, I hope, cousin, will punish you for this reflection.

I came not to town till Saturday, proceeded Sir Charles; and found a billet from Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, inviting himself, Mr Merceda, Mr Bagenhall, and Mr Jordan, to pass the Sunday evening with me at St James's Square. The company was not suitable to the day, nor the day to the proposed meeting. I made my exeuses, and desired them to favour me at breakfast on Monday morning. They came. And when we were all in good humour with one

another, I proposed, and was seconded by Mr Jordan, that we would make a visit-You will hardly guess to whom, Miss Byron-It was to the widow Awberry, at Paddington. I started, and even trembled. fered there was all in my mind.

What I suf

He proceeded then to tell me, that he had, though not without some difficulty on Sir Hargrave's part, actually engaged him to draw upon his banker for the 100%. he had promised Wilson; Mr Merceda, on his banker for 501., and he himself generously added 501. more; and giving, as he said, the air of a frolic to the performance of a promise, they all of them went to Paddington. There, satisfying themselves of the girl's love for Wilson, and of the widow's opinion of Wilson's good intentions by the girl, they let them know, that the sum of 2001. was deposited in Sir Charles's hands, to be paid on the day of marriage, as a portion for the young woman; and bid them demand it as soon as they thought fit. Neither Wilson nor the widow's son was there. The widow and her daughters were overjoyed at this unexpected good news.

They afterwards shewed Sir Charles, it seems, every scene of my distress; and told him, and the gentlemen, all but Sir Hargrave, (who had not patience to hear it, and went into another room,) my whole sad story. Sir Charles was pleased to say, that he was so much affected with it, that he had some little difficulty, on joining Sir Hargrave, to be as civil to him as he was before he heard the relation.

To one condition, it seems, the gentlemen insisted Sir Charles should consent, as an inducement for them to comply with his proposal. It was, that Sir Charles should dine with Sir Hargrave and the company at his house on the Forest, some one day in the next week, of which they would give him notice. They all insisted upon it; and Sir Charles said, he came the more readily into the proposal, as they declared it would be the last time they should see him for at least a twelvemonth to come; they being determined to prosecute their intended tour.

Wilson and young Awberry waited on Sir Charles the same evening. The marriage is to be celebrated in a few days. Wilson says, that his widow-sister in Smithfield, will, he is sure, admit him into a partnership with her, now that he shall have something to carry into the stock; for she loves his wife-elect; and the saving both of body and soul will be owing, he declared, (with transport that left him speechless,) to Sir Charles Grandison.

Everybody was delighted with the relation he gave. Dear Sir Charles, said Mr Grandison, let me be allowed to believe the Roman Catholic doctrine of supererogation; and let me express my hope, that I your kinsman may be the better for your good works. If all you do, is but nccessary, the Lord have mercy upon me!

Miss Grandison said, if I had written to my