family, as he did, rather to be repulsed by them, than to be obliged himself to decline their intended favour.

You will admire the lady in her sweetly modest behaviour, on his first visit before her mother; but more, for the noble spirit she endeavoured to resume in her conversation with him in the garden.

but her natural modesty, heightened by a glowing consciousness, that seemed to arise from the occasion, gave her advantages that her richest jewels could not have given her.

Yet her conduct, you will find, is not inferior to his; firmly persuaded, as she is, of the truth of her religion; and loving him with an ardour that he had from the first restrained in himself, from hopelessness.

But, to admire her as she deserves, I should transcribe all she says, and his account of her whole behaviour.

O my dear! who could have acted as Clementina acted!-Not, I fear, your

HARRIET BYRON.

DR BARTLETT'S THIRD LETTER. THE next thing you enjoin me in, madam, is, To give you the particulars of Mr Grandison's reception from the Marchioness and her Clementina, on his return to Bologna from Vienna, at the invitation of Signor Jeronymo.

MR GRANDISON was received at his arrival with great tokens of esteem and friendship, by the Marquis himself, and by the Bishop.

Signor Jeronymo, who still kept his chamber, the introducer being withdrawn, embraced him; and now, said he, is the affair, that I have had so long in view, determined upon. O chevalier! you will be a happy man. Clementina will be yours; you will be Clementina's; and now, indeed, do I embrace my brother-But I detain you not; go to the happy girl; she is with her mother, and both are ready to receive and welcome you. Allow for the gentle spirit; she will not be able to say half she thinks.

Camilla then appeared, to conduct me, says Mr Grandison, to her ladies, in the Marchioness's drawing-room. She whispered me in the passage, Welcome, thrice welcome, best of men! Now will you be rewarded for all your goodness!

I found the Marchioness sitting at her toilette, richly dressed, as in ceremony; but without attendants; even Camilla retired, as soon as she had opened the door for me.

The lovely Clementina stood at the back of her mother's chair. She was elegantly dressed;

The young lady had shrunk back, her complexion varying; now glowing, now pale-Excuse her voice, said the condescending mother; her heart bids you welcome.

Judge for me, my dear Dr Bartlett, how I must be affected at this gracious reception: I who knew not the terms that were to be prescribed to me. Spare me, dear lady, thought I, spare me my conscience, and take all the world's wealth and glory to yourself: I shall be rich enough with Clementina."

The Marchioness seated her in her own chair. I approached her; but how could I with that grateful ardour, that, but for my doubts, would have sprung to my lips? Modest love, however, was attributed to me; and I had the praise wholly for that which was but partly due to it.

I drew a chair for the Marchioness, and, at her command, another for myself: The mother took one hand of her bashful daughter; I presumed to take the other: the amiable lady held down her blushing face, and reproved me not, as she did once before, on the like freedom, for being too free. Her mother asked me questions of an indifferent nature; as of my journey; of the courts I had visited since I left them; when I heard from England; after my father; my sisters: the latter questions in a kind way, as if she were asking after relations that were to be her own.

What a mixture of pain had I with the favour shewn me, and for the favour shewn me! for I questioned not but a change of religion would be proposed, and insisted on; and I had no doubt in my mind about my own.

After a short conversation, the amiable daughter arose ; curtseyed low to her mother, with dig. nity to me, and withdrew.

Ah, chevalier! said the Marchioness, as soon as she was gone, little did I think, when you left us, that we should so soon see you again; and on the account we see you: but you know how to receive your good fortune with gratitude. Your modesty keeps in countenance our forwardness.

I bowed-What could I say?

I shall leave, so will my lord, particular subjects to be talked of between the Bishop and you. You will, if it be not your own fault, have a treasure in Clementina; and a treasure with her. We shall do the same things for her, as if she had married the man we wished her to have when we thought her affections disengaged. You may believe we love our daughter-Else

I applauded their indulgent goodness. I can have no doubt, Mr Grandison, that you love Clementina above all women.

[I had never seen the woman, Dr Bartlett, that I could have loved so well, had I not restrained myself, at first, from the high notion I knew they had of their quality and rank; from considerations of the difference in religion; of the trust and confidence the family placed in me; and by the resolution I had made, as a guard to myself from the time of my entering upon my travels, of never aiming to marry a foreigner.

I assured the Marchioness, that I was absolutely disengaged in my affections; that, not having presumed to encourage hopes of the good fortune that seemed to await me, I could hardly yet flatter myself that so great a happiness was reserved for me.

She answered, that I deserved it all; that I knew the value they had for me; that Clementina's regard was founded in virtue; that my character was my happiness; that, however, what the world would say, had been no small point with them; but that was as good as got over; and she doubted not but all that depended upon me, would, as well from generosity as gratitude, be complied with.

[Here, thought I, is couched the expectation; and, if so, would to Heaven I had never seen Italy!

The Marquis joined his lady and me soon after. His features had a melancholy cast. This dear girl, said he, has fastened upon me part of her malady. Parents, chevalier, who are blessed with even hopeful children, are not always happy. This girl-But no more; she is a good child. In the general economy of Providence, none of the sons of men are unhappy, but some others are the happier for it. Our son the Bishop will talk to you upon terms.

I have hinted to the chevalier, my lord, said the Marchioness, the happiness that awaits him. How does the poor girl?—Bashful enough, I

suppose.

Indeed, my lord, she cannot look up, answered the lady.

Poor thing! I supposed it would be so. Why, why, thought I, was I suffered to see this mother, this daughter, before their conditions were proposed to me!

But what indulgent parents are these, Dr Bartlett? What an excellent daughter? Yet not to be happy!-But how much more unhappily circumstanced did I think myself!-I, who had rather have been rejected with disdain by twenty women in turn, than to be obliged to decline the honour intended me by a family I reverenced!

THUS far Mr Grandison. This, madam, will answer your question, as to the sixth article ; but I believe a few more particulars will be acceptable.

The Marquis led me, proceeds Mr Grandison, into the chamber of Signor Jeronymo. Your good fortune, chevalier, said he, as we entered it, is owing to Jeronymo, who owes his life to you. I bless God, we are a family that know not what ingratitude means.

I made my acknowledgments both to father and son.

The Marquis then went into public affairs; and soon after left us together.

I was considering whether I had best tell that sincere friend my apprehensions in relation to the articles of religion and residence; for he had, with an air of humour, congratulated me on the philosophical manner in which I bore my good fortune; when Camilla entered, and whispered me, of her own head, as she said, that her young lady was just gone into the garden.

I dare say, it was of her own head; for Camilla has a great deal of good-nature, and is constantly desirous of obliging, where she thinks she shall not offend anybody.

Follow her then, said Jeronymo, who heard what Camilla said; Clementina perhaps expects you.

Camilla waited for me at the entrance into the garden. One word, sir, if you please. I am afraid of the return of my young lady's thoughtfulness. She says, she is ashamed of the poor figure she made before her mother; she is sure she must look mean in your eyes. "A man to be sent for, Camilla," said she, "in compliment to my weakness! Why did not my too indulgent father bid me conquer my folly, or die? O that I had not owned my attachment! Naughty Mrs Beaumont !" said she, "had it not been for you, my own bosom had contained the secret; till shame, and indignation against myself, had burst my heart." She is resolved, she says, to resume a spirit becoming her birth and quality; and I am afraid of her elevations. Her great apprehensions are, that, with all this condescension of her parents, obstacles will arise on your part. If so, she says, she shall not be able to bear her own reflections, nor look her friends in the face.

My dear Dr Bartlett, how have I, who have hitherto so happily escaped the snares by which the feet of unreflecting youth are often entangled by women of light fame, been embarrassed by perverse accidents that have arisen from my friendships with the worthy of the sex? Was there ever a more excellent family than this?— Every individual of it is excellent. And is not their worthiness, and even their piety, the cause to which our mutual difficulties are owing?

persuaded of the excellency of her own religion, she wondered that a man of reflection and reading could be of a contrary one. Her heart, she said, as well as the heart of her young lady, boded an unhappy issue to our loves: Heaven avert it! said the honest woman; but what may we not fear by way of judgment, where a young lady-forgive me, sir-prefers a man she thinks she ought not to prefer, and where a gentleman will not be convinced of errors which the church condemns?

She again begged I would forgive her. I praised her good intention, and sincere dealing; and, leaving her, went into the garden.

I found the young lady in the orange-grove. You have been in that garden, Dr Bartlett.

She turned her face towards me, as I drew near her; and, seeing who it was, stopped.

Clementina, armed with conscious worthiness, as if she had resumed the same spirit which had animated her on the eve of my departure from Bologna, condescended to advance two or three paces towards me.

Lovely woman, thought I, encourage the true dignity that shines in that noble aspect!-Who knows what may be our destiny?

I bowed. Veneration, esteem, and concern, from the thought of what that might be, all joined to make my obeisance profound.

I was going to speak. She prevented me. Her air and manner were great.

You are welcome, sir, said she. My mamma bid me say welcome. I could not then speak; and she was so good to you, as to answer for my heart. My voice is now found: but tell meDo I see the same generous, the same noble Grandison, that I have heretofore seen?-Or, do I see a man inclined to slight the creature whom her indulgent parents are determined to oblige, even to the sacrifice of all their views?

You see, madam, the same Grandison, his heart only oppressed with the honour done him; and with the fear that the happiness designed for him may yet be frustrated. If it should, how shall I be able to support myself?

[What a difficult situation, my dear Dr Bartlett, was mine!-Equally afraid to urge my suit with ardour, or to be imagined capable of being indifferent to her favour.]

What do you fear, sir -You have grounds in your own heart, perhaps, for your fear. If you have, let me know them. I am not afraid to know them. Let me tell you, that I opposed the step taken. I declared that I would sooner die, than it should be taken. It was to you, they said; and you would know how to receive as you ought, the distinction paid you. I have a soul, sir, not unworthy of the spirit of my ancestors tell me what you fear? I only fear one thing; and that is, that I should be thought to be more in than your power my own. Noble lady! And think you, that while my happiness is not yet absolutely resolved upon, I

have not reason to fear?-You will always, madam, be in your own power: You will be most so when in mine. My gratitude will ever prompt me to acknowledge your goodness to me as a condescension.

But say; tell me, sir; did you not, at first receiving the invitation, despise, in absence, the Clementina, that now, perhaps, in presence, you have the goodness to pity?

O that the high-souled Clementina would not think so contemptibly of the man before her, as she must think, when she puts a question that would entitle him to infamy, could he presume to imagine an answer to it necessary!

Well, sir: I shall see how far the advances made on the wrong side will be justified, or rather countenanced, by the advances, or shall I say, (I will, if you please,) condescensions to be made on yours.

[What a petulance, thought I !-But can the generous, the noble Clementina, knowing that terms will be proposed, with which, in honour and conscience, I cannot comply, put my regard for her on such a test as this?—I will not suppose that she is capable of mingling art with her magnanimity.]

Is this, madam, said I, a generous anticipation? Forgive me; but when your friends are so good as to think me incapable of returning ingratitude for obligation, I hope I shall not be classed, by their beloved daughter, among the lowest of mankind.

Excuse me, sir; the woman who has been once wrong, has reason to be always afraid of herself. If you do not think meanly of me, I will endeavour to think well of myself; and then, sir, I shall think better of you, if better I can think; for, after all, did I not more mistrust myself than I do you, I should not perhaps be so capricious as, I am afraid, I sometimes am.

The Marquis has hinted to me, madam, that your brother the Bishop is to discourse with me on the subject now the nearest to my heart of all others; may I presume to address myself to their beloved daughter upon it, without being thought capable of endeavouring to prepossess her in my favour, before my lord and I meet?

I will answer you frankly, sir; there are preliminaries to be settled; and, till they are, I, that know there are, do not think myself at liberty to hear you upon any subject that may tend to prepossession.

I acquiesce, madam; I would not for the world be thought to wish for the honour of your attention, while it is improper for you to favour me with it.

[I did not know, Dr Bartlett, but upon a supposition of a mutual interest between us, as I had hoped she would allow, Clementina might wish that I would lead to some particular discourse. Though modesty becomes ours as well as the other sex, yet it would be an indelicacy

not to prevent a lady, in some certain cases. But thus discouraged, Perhaps, madam, said I, the attendance I do myself the honour to pay you here, may not be agreeable to the Marquis. Then, sir, you will choose, perhaps, to withdraw. But don't-Yes, do.

I respectfully withdrew; but she taking a winding alley, which led into that in which I slowly walked, we met again. I am afraid, said she, I have been a little petulant: Indeed, sir, I am not satisfied with myself. I wish-And there she stopt.

What, madam, do you wish? Favour me with your wishes. If it be in my power

It is not, interrupted she-I wish I had not been at Florence. The lady I was with is a good woman, but she was too hard for me. Perhaps, (and she sighed,) had I not been with her, I had been at rest, and happy, before now; but if I had not, there is a pleasure, as well as pain, in melancholy. But now I am so fretful!-If I hated the bitterest enemy I have, as much as at times I hate myself, I should be a very bad crea

ture.

This was spoken with an air so melancholy, as greatly disturbed me. God grant, thought I, that the articles of religion and residence may be agreed upon between the Bishop and me!

HERE, my good Miss Byron, I close this letter. Sir Charles has told you, briefly, the event of the conference between the Bishop and him; and I hasten to obey you in your next article.

LETTER CIX.

MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.

Thursday Morning, March 30. I SEND you now enclosed the Doctor's fourth letter. I believe I must desire my grandmamma and my aunt Selby to send for me down.

We shall all be in London this evening. Would to Heaven I had never come to it !— What of pleasure have I had in it ?—This abominable Sir Hargrave Pollexfen !-But for him, I had been easy and happy; since, but for him, I had never wanted the relief of Sir Charles Grandison; never had known him. Fame might perhaps have brought to my ears, in general conversation, as other persons of distinction are talked of, some of his benevolent actions; and he would have attracted my admiration without costing me one sigh. And yet, had it been so, I should then have known none of those lively sensibilities that have mingled pleasure with my pain, on the pride I have had in being distinguished as a sister to the sisters of so extraordinary a man. O that I had kept my foolish heart free! I should then have had enough to boast of for my whole life; enough to talk

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of to every one; and when I had been asked by my companions and intimates, what diversions, what entertainments, I had been at, I should have said, I have been in company and conversed with Sir CHARLES GRANDISON, and been favoured and distinguished by all his family; and I should have passed many a happy winter evening, when my companions came to work and read with me at Selby-House, in answering their questions about all these ; and Sir Charles would have been known among us principally by the name of the fine gentleman; and my young friends would have come about me, and asked me to tell them something more of the excellent man.

But now my ambition has overthrown me; aiming, wishing to be everything, I am nothing. If I am asked about him, or his sisters, I shall seek to evade the subject; and yet, what other subject can I talk of? For what have I seen, what have I known, since I left Northamptonshire, but him and them? And what else, indeed, since I have known this family, have I wished to see, and to know?

On reviewing the above," how have I, as I see, suffered my childish fancies to delude me into a short forgetfulness of his, of everybody's distresses! But, O my Lucy! my heart is torn in pieces; and, I verily think, more for the unhappy Clementina's sake, than for my own! How severely do I pay for my curiosity! Yet it was necessary that I should know the worst. So Sir Charles seems to have thought, by the permission he has given to Dr Bartlett, to oblige

me.

Your pity will be more raised on reading the letter I enclose, not only for Clementina and Sir Charles, but for the whole family; none of whom, though they are all unhappy, are to be blamed. You will dearly love the noble Jeronymo, and be pleased with the young lady's faithful Camilla; but, my dear, there is so much tenderness in Sir Charles's woe-It must be love-But he ought to love Clementina: she is a glorious, though unhappy, young creature. I must not have one spark of generosity left in my heart, I must be lost wholly in self, if I did not equally admire and love her.

DR BARTLETT'S FOURTH LETTER.

As I remember, madam, Sir Charles mentions to you, in a very pathetic manner, the distress he was in when the terms and conditions on which he was to be allowed to call the noble Clementina his, were proposed to him, as they were by the Bishop. He has briefly told you the terms, and his grief to be obliged to disappoint the expectation of persons so deservedly dear to him. But you will not, I believe, be displeased, if I dwell a little more on these par

ticulars, though they are not commanded from

me.

The Bishop, when he had acquainted Mr Grandison with the terms, said, You are silent, my dear Grandison; you hesitate. What, sir! Is a proposal of a daughter of one of the noblest families in Italy, that daughter a Clementina, to be slighted by a man of a private family, a foreigner, of dependent fortunes, her dowry not unworthy a prince's acceptance? Do you hesitate upon such a proposal as this, sir?

My lord, I am grieved, rather than surprised, at the proposal; I was apprehensive it would be made. My joy at receiving the condescending invitation, and at the honour done me, on my arrival, otherwise would have been immoderate.

A debate then followed upon some articles in which the Church of Rome and the Protestant churches differ. Mr Grandison would fain have avoided it; but the Bishop, supposing he should have some advantages in the argument which he met not with, would not permit him. He was very warm with Mr Grandison more than once, which did not help his cause.

The particulars of this debate I will not at this time give you; they would carry me into great length, and I have much to transcribe, that I believe, from what Sir Charles has let me see of your manner of writing to your friends, you would prefer. To that I will proceed, after a passage or two, which will shew you how that debate, about the difference in religion, went off.

You will call to mind, chevalier, said the Bishop, that your church allows of a possibility of salvation out of its pale-ours does not.

My lord, our church allows not of its members indulging themselves in capital errors, against conviction: but I hope that no more need be said on this subject.

I think, replied the Bishop, we will quit it. I did not expect that you were so firmly rooted in error as I find you; but to the point on which we began. I should think it an extraordinary misfortune, were we to find ourselves reduced to the necessity of reasoning a private man into the acceptance of our sister Clementina. Let me tell you, sir, that were she to know that you but hesitate He spoke with earnestness, and reddened.

Pardon an interruption, my lord; you are disposed to be warm. I will not so much as offer to defend myself from any imputations that may, in displeasure, be cast upon me, as if I were capable of slighting the honour intended me of a lady who is worthy of a prince. I am persuaded that your lordship cannot think such a defence necessary. I am indeed a private man, but not inconsiderable; if the being able to VOL. VIII.

enumerate a long race of ancestors, whom hitherto I have not disgraced, will give me consideration. But what, my lord, is ancestry? I live to my own heart. My principles were known before I had the condescending invitation. Your lordship would not persuade me to change them, when I cannot think them wrong; and since, as you have heard, I have something to offer, when called upon, in support of them.

You will consider this matter, my dear chevalier. It is you, I think, that are disposed to be warm; but you are a valuable man. We, as well as our sister, wish to have you among us; our church would wish it. Such a proselyte will justify us to every other consideration, and to all our friends. Consider of it, Grandison; but let it not be known to the principals of our family, that you think consideration necessary; the dear Clementina, particularly, must not know it. Your person, chevalier, is not so dear to the excellent creature, as your soul. Hence it is, that we are all willing to encourage in her a flame so pure and so bright.

My distress, my lord, is beyond the power of words to describe. I revere, I honour, and will to my last hour, the Marquis and Marchioness of Porretta, and on better motives than for their grandeur and nobility. Their sons-you know not, my lord, the pride I have always had to be distinguished even by a nominal relation to them; and give me your Clementina, without the hard conditions you prescribe, and I shall be happy beyond my highest wish. I desire not dowry with her. I have a father on whose generosity and affection I can rely. But I must repeat, my lord, that my principles are so well known, that I hoped a compromise would be accepted. I would not for the world compel your sister. The same liberty that I crave, I would allow.

And will you not take time, sir, to consider? Are you absolutely determined?

If your lordship knew the pain it gives me to say that I am, you would pity me.

Well, sir, I am sorry for it. Let us go in to Signor Jeronymo. He has been your advocate ever since he knew you. Jeronymo has gratitude; but you, chevalier, have no affections.

I thank God, said I, that your lordship does not do me justice.

He led me into his brother's apartment.

There, what did I not suffer, from the friendship, from the love of that brother, and from the urgency of the Bishop! But what was the result?

The Bishop asked me, if he were to conduct me to his father, to his mother, to his sister? Or to allow me to depart without seeing them? -This was the alternative. My compliance or non-compliance was to be thus indicated. I respectfully bowed. I recommended myself to the favour of the two brothers, and, through them, to that of the three truly respectable persons

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