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

I have therefore written, as from himself, that he proposes a jointure of 1200l. a-year, penny-rents, and 400 guineas a-year, for her private purse; and that his lordship desires that Miss Mansfield will make a present to her sister of whatever she may be entitled to in her own right. Something was mentioned to me at Mansfield-house of a thousand pounds left to her by a godmother.

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

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

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

LETTER CXX.

MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.

Monday, April 3. THE Countess of D- and the Earl, her son, have but just left us. The Countess sent last night, to let my cousin Reeves know of their intended morning visit, and they came together. As the visit was made to my cousin, I did not think myself obliged to be in waiting for them below. I was therefore in my closet, comforting myself with my own agreeable reflections. They were there a quarter of an hour before I was sent

to.

Their talk was of me. I am used to recite my own praises, you know; and what signifies making a parade of apologies for continuing the use? I don't value myself so much as I once did on people's favourable opinions. If I had a heart in my own keeping, I should be glad it was thought a good one; that's all. Yet, though it has littlenesses in it that I knew nothing of formerly, I hope it is not a bad one.

My Lord D-, by the whole turn of the partial conversation, was led to expect a very extraordinary young woman. The lady declared,

that she would have her talk out, and hear all my two cousins were inclined to say of me, before I was sent up to, as I was not below when they came.

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

His impatience, however, hastened the message to me. The Countess met me half-way, and embraced me: My lovely girl, how do you do? My lord, said she, turning to the Earl, I need not say-This is Miss Byron.

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

The Countess engaged me in an easy general conversation; part of which turned upon Lord and Lady L- Miss Grandison, and Miss Jervois: and how I had passed my time at Colnebrook, in this wintry season, when there were so many diversions in town. But, said she, you had a man with you, who is the general admiration wherever he goes.

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

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

The fool sighed; it was, you may believe, involuntarily. I felt myself blush, and was the more silly for that.

The Countess took my hand-One word with you, my dear-and led me out into the next room, and sitting down, made me sit on the same settee with her.

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

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

You said, my dear, that Sir Charles Grandison will soon leave England;—and then you

sighed-Will you be quite open-hearted? May I ask you a question in hope that you will? I was silent; yet the word Yes was on my

lips.

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

It will be a mark of your frankness of heart, my dear, if, when you take my full meaning, you prevent me speaking more than I need.would not oppress you, my sweet love-Such a delicacy, and such a frankness mingled, have I never seen in a young woman-But tell me, my dear, has Sir Charles Grandison made his addresses to you?

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

She says, madam, that she reveres Lady D—, and will answer any questions that she puts to her, however affecting-Sir Charles Grandison has not.

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

Your ladyship compliments me with delicacy and frankness-It is too hard a question, if I have any of the first, to answer without blushes. A young woman to be supposed to have an esteem for a man, who has made no declaration, and whose behaviour to her is such only as shews a politeness to which he is accustomed, and only the same kind of tenderness, as he shews to his sisters ;-and whom sometimes he calls sister as if-Ah, madam! how can one answer?

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

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

You are an excellent young woman; but, my dear, if Sir Charles Grandison is engaged-your mind will, it must change. Few women marry their first loves. Your heart

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

Like merits, my dear, as person is not the principal motive, may produce like attachments. My Lord Dwill be, in your hands, another Sir Charles Grandison.

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

You have spoken with great force; God bless you, my dear, as I love you! The matter shall take its course. If my lord should happen to be a single man some time hence, (and, I can tell you, that your excellencies will make our choice difficult;) and if your mind, from any accident,

or from persuasion of friends, should then have received alteration, you may still be happy in each other. I will, therefore, only thank you for that openness of heart which must set free the heart of my son. Had you had the least lurking inclination to coquetry, and could have taken pride in conquests, he might have been an undone man. We will return to the company-But spare him, my dear; you must not talk much he will love you, if you do, too fervently for his own peace. Try to be a little awkward-I am afraid for him; indeed I am. O that you had never seen Sir Charles Grandison!

I could not answer one word. She took my hand, and led me in to the company.

Had I been silent, when my lord directed his discourse to me, or answered only No, or Yes, the Countess would have thought me very vain, and that I ascribed to myself the consequence she so generously gave me, with respect to my lord. I therefore behaved and answered unaffectedly, but avoided such a promptness of speech as would have looked like making pretensions to knowledge and opinion, though some of my lord's questions were apparently designed to engage me into freedom of discourse. The Countess observed me narrowly. She whispered to me that she did, and made me a very high compliment on my behaviour. How much, Lucy, do I love and reverence her!

My lord was spoken too slightly of by Miss Grandison, in a former conversation. He is really a fine gentleman. Any woman, who is not engaged in her affections, may think herself very happy with him. His conversation was easy and polite, and he said nothing that was low or trifling. Indeed, Lucy, I think Mr Greville and Mr Fenwick are as greatly inferior to Lord D- -, as Lord D is to Sir Charles Grandison.

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

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

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

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

And thus much for the visit of the Countess of D and the Earl.

DID I tell you in my former letter that Emily is with me half her time? She is a most engaging young creature. Her manners are so pure! Her heart is so sincere and open!-O Lucy! you would dearly love her. I wish I may be asked to carry her down with me. Yet she adores her guardian; but her reverence for him will not allow of the innocent familiarity in thinking of him, that-I don't know what I would say. But to love with an ardour that would be dangerous to one's peace, one must have more tenderness than reverence for the object. Don't you think so, Lucy?

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

Mr and Mrs Reeves told her all that had been said before them by the Earl and Countess, as well before I went down to them, as after. They could not tell what had passed between that la dy and me, when she took me aside. I had not had time to tell them. They referred to me for that; but besides that I was not in spirits, and cared not to say much, I was not willing to be thought, by my refusal of so great an offer, to seem to fasten myself upon her brother."

She pitied (who but must ?) Lady Clementina. She pitied her brother also; and seeing me dejected, she clasped her arms about me, and wetted my cheek with a sisterly tear.

Is it not strange, Lucy, that Sir Charles's father should have kept so long abroad? These free-living men! of what absurdities are they not guilty! What misfortunes to others do they occasion? One might, with the excellent Cle mentina, ask, What had Mr Grandison to do in Italy? Or why, if he must go abroad, did he stay so long?

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

To see a parcel of giddy boys under the direction of tutors or governors hunting afterWhat?-Nothing; or, at best, but ruins of ruins: For the imagination, aided by reflection, must be left, after all, to make out the greater glories, which the grave-digger Time has buried too deep for discovery.

And when this grand tour is completed, the travelled youth returns; and what is his boast? Why, to be able to tell, perhaps, his better-taught friend, who has never been out of his native country, that he has seen in ruins what the other has a juster idea of from reading, and of which, it is more than probable, he can give a much better account than the tra veller.

And are these, petulant Harriet, (methinks, Lucy, you demand,) all the benefits that you will suppose Sir CHARLES GRANDISON has reaped from his travelling?

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

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

O my uncle! I am afraid of you; but spare the poor girl-she acknowledges her petulance, her presumption. The occasion you know, and will pity her for it! Neither petulance nor presumption, however, shall make her declare as her sentiments what really are not so in her unprejudiced hours; and she hopes to have her heart always open to conviction.

For the present, adieu, my Lucy.

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

LETTER CXXI.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

Tuesday, April 4. SIR CHARLES GRANDISON came to town last night. He was so polite as to send to inquire after my health, and to let Mr Reeves know that he would do himself the honour, as he called it, of breakfasting with him this morning. Very ceremonious, either for his own sake or for mine -Perhaps for both.

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

The compliment, you see, is to Mr Reeves

Shall I stay above, and see if he will ask for me? He owes me something for the emotion he gave me in Lord L's library. Very little of him since have I seen.

"Honour forbids me," said he, then; "yet honour bids me-But I cannot be ungenerous, selfish." These words are still in my ear. What could he mean by them?-Honour forbids me -What! to explain himself? He had been telling me a tender tale; he had ended it. did honour forbid him to do?—Yet honour bids me! Why then did he not follow the dictates of honour?

What

But I cannot be unjust ;—To Clementina he means. Who wished him to be so?-Unjust! I hope not. It is a diminution to your glory, Sir Charles Grandison, to have the word unjust, in this way of speaking, in your thoughts! As if a good man had lain under a temptation to be unjust, and had but then recollected himself.

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

But what means he by the word selfish! He cannot be selfish!-I comprehend not the meaning of this word-Clementina has a very high fortune-Harriet but a very middling one. He cannot be unjust, ungenerous, to ClementinaNor yet selfish. This word confounds me, from a man that says nothing at random!

Well, but breakfast-time is come, while I am busy in self-debatings. I will go down, that I may not seem to affect parade. I will endeavour to see with indifference him that we have all been admiring and studying for this last fortnight, in such a variety of lights-The Christian; the hero; the friend.—Ah, Lucy! the lover of Clementina! the generous kinsman of Lord W- ; the modest and delicate benefactor of the Mansfields; the free, gay rallier of Lady Beauchamp; and, in her, of all our sex's foibles!

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

LETTER CXXII.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

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

Šir Charles met me at the opening of the door. He was all himself-Such an unaffected mơdesty and politeness; yet such an ease and frees dom!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dr Bartlett has told you, madam, that the Bishop of Nocera, second brother to Lady Clementina, has very lately written to me, requesting that I will make one more visit to Bologna. I have the letter. You read Italian, madam. Shall 1-or will you-He held it to me.

I took it. These, Lucy, are the contents:"The Bishop acquaints him with the very melancholy way they are in. The father and

mother declining in their healths. Signor Jeronymo worse than when Sir Charles left them. His sister also declining in her health, yet earnest still to see him.

"He says that she is at present at Urbino, but is soon to go to Naples to the General's. He urges him to make them one visit more, yet owns, that his family are not unanimous in the request, but that he and Father Marescotti, and the Marchioness, are extremely earnest that this indulgence should be granted to the wishes of his sister.

"He offers to meet him, at his own appointment, and conduct him to Bologna, where, he tells him, his presence will rejoice every heart, and procure an unanimous consent to the interview so much desired; and says, that if this measure, which he is sorry he has so long withstood, answers not his hopes, he will advise the shutting up of their Clementina in a nunnery, or to consign her to private hands, where she shall be treated kindly, but as persons in her unhappy circumstances are accustomed to be treated.'

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

He mentions not one word in this melancholy letter of his unhappy sister, which Sir Charles accounted for by supposing, that she not being at Bologna, they kept from him, in his deplorable way, everything relating to her, that was likely to disturb him.

He then read part of a letter written in English by the admired Mrs Beaumont; some of the contents of which were, as you shall hear, extremely affecting.

"Mrs Beaumont gives him in it an account of the situation of the unhappy young lady, and excuses herself for not having done it before, in answer to his request, because of an indisposition under which she had for some time laboured, which had hindered her from making the necessary inquiries.

"She mentions, that the lady had received no benefit from her journeyings from place to place, and from her voyage from Leghorn to Naples, and back again; and blames her attendants, who, to quiet her, unknown to their principals, for some time, kept her in expectation of seeing her chevalier at the end of each; for her more prudent Camilla, she says, had been hindered