I stared. But as he seemed not to mean anything, I would not help him to a meaning by my own over-quickness.

Mr Fowler had done an extraordinary thing, and sat down, hemmed, and said nothing: looking, however, as if he was at a loss to know whether he or his uncle was expected to speak.

The cold weather was then the subject; and the two gentlemen rubbed their hands, and drew nearer the fire, as if they were the colder for talking of it. Many hems passed between them, now the uncle looking on the nephew, now the nephew on the uncle: at last they fell into talk of their new-built house at Caermarthen, and the furnishing of it.

They mentioned afterwards their genteel neighbourhood, and gave the characters of half a dozen people, of whom none present but themselves ever heard; but all tending to shew how much they were valued by the best gentry in Caermarthenshire.

The Knight then related a conversation that had once passed between himself and the late Lord Mansell, in which that nobleman had complimented him on an estate of a clear 3000l. a-year, besides a good deal of ready cash, and with supposing that he would set up his nephew, when of age, (for it was some years ago,) as a representative for the county. And he repeated the prudent answer he gave his lordship, disavowing such a design, as no better than a gaming propensity, as he called it, which had ruined many a fair estate.

This sort of talk, in which his nephew could bear a part, (and, indeed, they had it all between them,) held the tea-time; and then having given themselves the consequence they had seemed to intend, the Knight, drawing his chair nearer to me, and winking to his nephew, who withdrew, began to set forth to me the young gentleman's good qualities; to declare the passion he had for me; and to beg my encouragement of so worthy, so proper, and so well-favoured a young man; who was to be his sole heir; and for whom he would do such things, on my account, as, during his life, he would not do for any other woman breathing.

There was no answering a discourse so serious, with the air of levity which it was hardly possible to avoid assuming on the first visit of the Knight.

make a man of him. Let me, let me, call in my boy. I will go for him myself; and was going.

Let me say one word, Sir Rowland-before Mr Fowler comes in-before you speak to him -you have explained yourself unexceptionably. I am obliged to you and Mr Fowler for your good opinion; but this can never be.

How, madam? Can never be !-I will allow that you shall take time for half-a-dozen visits, or so, that you may be able to judge of my nephew's qualities and understanding, and be convinced from his own mouth, and heart, and soul, as I may say, of his love for you. No need of time for him. He, poor man! is fixed, immovably fixed; but say you will take a week's time, or so, to consider what you can do, what you will do-and that's all I at present crave, or, indeed, madam, can allow you.

I cannot doubt now, Sir Rowland, of what my mind will be a week hence, as to this mat

ter.

How, madam!-Why, we are all in the suds, then!-Why, Mr Reeves, Mrs Reeves! -Whew! with a half-whistle-Why, madam, we shall, at this rate, be all untwisted! But (after a pause,) by mercy I will not be thus answered!-Why, madam, would you have the conscience to break my poor boy's heart?Come, be as gracious as you look to be-Give

me

your hand-Che snatched my hand; in respect to his years I withdrew it not]-and give my boy your heart.-Sweet soul! such sensible, such good-natured mantlings!-Why you can't be cruel if you would!-Dear lady! say you will take a little time to consider of this matter; don't repeat those cruel words, " it can never be."-What have you to object to my boy?

Mr Fowler, both by character and appearance, Sir Rowland, is a worthy man. He is a modest man; and modesty

Well, and so he is-Mercy! I was afraid that his modesty would be an objection

It cannot, Sir Rowland, with a modest woman. I love, I revere a modest man; but, indeed, I cannot give hope, where I mean not to encourage any.

Your objection, madam, to my nephew?You must have seen something in him you dislike.

I'do not easily dislike, sir; but then I do not easily like; and never will marry any man, to whom I cannot be more than indifferent.

Why, madam, he adores you-He

That, sir, is an objection, unless I could return his love. My gratitude would be endangered.

Excellent notions!-With these notions, madam, you could not be ungrateful.

That, sir, is a risk I will never run. How many bad wives are there, who would have been good ones, had they not married either to

You told me, madam, the first time I had the honour to see you, that you were absolutely and bona fide disengaged

I told you truth, sir.

Then, madam, we will not take your denial. We will persevere. We will not be discouraged! What a deuce! Have I not heard it said, that faint heart never won fair lady?

I never would give an absolute denial, sir, were I to have the least doubt of my mind. If I could balance, I would consult my friends, and refer to them, and their opinion should have due weight with me. But for your nephew's sake, Sir Rowland, while his esteem for me is young and conquerable, urge not this matter farther. I would not give pain to a worthy heart.

As I hope for mercy, madam, so well do I like your notions, that if you will be my niece, and let me but converse with you once a-day, I will be content with 100l. a year, and settle upon you all I have in the world.

His eyes glistened; his face glowed; an honest earnestness appeared in his countenance. Generous man Good Sir Rowland! said I. I was affected. I was forced to withdraw.

I soon returned, and found Sir Rowland, his handkerchief in his hand, applying very earnestly to my cousins; and they were so affected too, that, on his resuming the subject to me, they could not help putting in a word or two on his side of the question.

Sir Rowland then proposed to call in his nephew, that he might speak for himself. My boy may be overawed by love, madam; true love is always fearful; yet he is no milksop, I do assure you. To men he has courage. How he will behave to you, madam, I know not; for, really, notwithstanding that sweetness of aspect, which I should have thought would have led one to say what one would to you, (in modesty I mean,) I have now a kind of I cannot tell what for you myself. Reverence it is not, neither, I think-I only reverence my Makerand yet I believe it is. Why, madam, your face is one of God Almighty's wonders in a little compass!-Pardon me-you may blush-but be gracious now!-Don't shew us, that, with a face so encouragingly tender, you have a hard heart.

O Sir Rowland! you are an excellent advocate; but, pray, tell Mr FowlerI will call him in-and was rising.

No, don't-but tell Mr Fowler, that I regard him on a double account; for his own worth's sake and for his uncle's; but subject me not, I once more entreat you, to the pain of repulsing a worthy man. I repeat, that I am under obligation to him for the value he has for me; I shall be under more, if he will accept of my thanks as all I have to return.

My dear Miss Byron, said Mr Reeves, oblige Sir Rowland so far, as to take a little time to consider

God bless you on earth and in heaven, Mr Reeves, for this! you are a good man-Why, ay, take a little time to consider-God bless you, madam, take a little time. Say you will consider. You know not what man of understanding my nephew is. Why, madam, modest as he is, and awed by his love for you, he cannot shew half the good sense he is master of.

Modest men must have merit, sir. But how can you, Mr Reeves, make a difficult task more difficult? And yet all is from the goodness of your heart. You see Sir Rowland thinks me cruel; I have no cruelty in my nature. I love to oblige. I wish to match you in generosity, Sir Rowland-ask me for anything but myself, and I will endeavour to oblige you.

Admirable, by mercy! Why, everything you say, instead of making me desist, induces me to persevere. There is no yielding up such a prize, if one can obtain it. Tell me, Mr Reeves, where there is such another woman to be had, and we may give up Miss Byron; but I hope she will consider of it.-Pray, madam-but I will call in my nephew. And out he went in haste, as if he were afraid of being again forbidden.

Meantime, my cousins put it to me--but before I could answer them, the Knight, followed by his nephew, returned.

Mr Fowler entered, bowing in the most respectful manner. He looked much more dejected than when he approached me at my first coming down. His uncle had given him a hint of what had passed between us.

Mr Fowler and I had just sat down, when the knight said to Mr Reeves, (but took him not by the button, as in his first visit,) one word with you, sir-Mr Reeves, one word with you, you please.

if

They withdrew together; and presently after Mrs Reeves went out at the other door; and I was left alone with Mr Fowler.

We both sat silent for about three or four minutes. I thought I ought not to begin; Mr Fowler knew not how. He drew his chair nearer to me; then sat a little farther off; then drew a little nearer again; stroked his ruffles, and hemmed two or three times; and at last,You cannot, madam, but observe my confusion, my concern, my, my, my confusion!-It is ow

The Knight then related a conversation that had once passed between himself and the late Lord Mansell, in which that nobleman had complimented him on an estate of a clear 30007. a-year, besides a good deal of ready cash, and with supposing that he would set up his nephew, when of age, (for it was some years ago,) as a representative for the county. And he repeated the prudent answer he gave his lordship, disavowing such a design, as no better than a gaming propensity, as he called it, which had ruined many a fair estate.

This sort of talk, in which his nephew could bear a part, (and, indeed, they had it all between them,) held the tea-time; and then having given themselves the consequence they had seemed to intend, the Knight, drawing his chair nearer to me, and winking to his nephew, who withdrew, began to set forth to me the young gentleman's good qualities; to declare the passion he had for me; and to beg my encouragement of so worthy, so proper, and so well-favoured a young man; who was to be his sole heir; and for whom he would do such things, on my account, as, during his life, he would not do for any other woman breathing.

There was no answering a discourse so serious, with the air of levity which it was hardly possible to avoid assuming on the first visit of the Knight.

I was vexed that I found myself almost as bashful, as silly, and as silent, as if I had thoughts of encouraging Mr Fowler's addresses. My cousins seemed pleased with my bashfulness. The Knight, I once thought, by the tone of his voice, and his hum, would have struck up a Welsh tune, and danced for joy.

Shall I call in my kinsman, madam, to confirm all I have said, and to pour out his whole soul at your feet? My boy is bashful; but a little favour from that sweet countenance will

make a man of him. Let me, let me, call in my boy. I will go for him myself; and was going.

Let me say one word, Sir Rowland-before Mr Fowler comes in-before you speak to him -you have explained yourself unexceptionably. I am obliged to you and Mr Fowler for your good opinion; but this can never be.

How, madam? Can never be !-I will allow that you shall take time for half-a-dozen visits, or so, that you may be able to judge of my nephew's qualities and understanding, and be convinced from his own mouth, and heart, and soul, as I may say, of his love for you. No need of time for him. He, poor man! is fixed, immovably fixed; but say you will take a week's time, or so, to consider what you can do, what you will do-and that's all I at present crave, or, indeed, madam, can allow you.

I cannot doubt now, Sir Rowland, of what my mind will be a week hence, as to this mat

ter.

How, madam!-Why, we are all in the suds, then!-Why, Mr Reeves, Mrs Reeves! -Whew! with a half-whistle-Why, madam, we shall, at this rate, be all untwisted! But (after a pause,) by mercy I will not be thus answered!-Why, madam, would you have the conscience to break my poor boy's heart?Come, be as gracious as you look to be-Give me your hand-[he snatched my hand; in respect to his years I withdrew it not-and give my boy your heart.-Sweet soul! such sensible, such good-natured mantlings!-Why you can't be cruel if you would!-Dear lady! say you will take a little time to consider of this matter; don't repeat those cruel words, " it can never be."-What have you to object to my boy?

Mr Fowler, both by character and appearance, Sir Rowland, is a worthy man. He is a modest man; and modesty

Well, and so he is-Mercy! I was afraid that his modesty would be an objection

It cannot, Sir Rowland, with a modest woman. I love, I revere a modest man; but, indeed, I cannot give hope, where I mean not to encourage any.

Your objection, madam, to my nephew?You must have seen something in him you dislike.

I'do not easily dislike, sir; but then I do not easily like; and never will marry any man, to whom I cannot be more than indifferent.

their dislike, or with indifference! Good beginnings, Sir Rowland, are necessary to good progresses, and to happy conclusions.

Why so they are. But beginnings that are not bad with good people, will make no bad progresses, no bad conclusions.

No bad is not good, Sir Rowland; and, in such a world as this, shall people lay themselves open to the danger of acting contrary to their duty? Shall they suffer themselves to be bribed, either by conveniencies, or superfluities, to give their hands, and leave their hearts doubtful or indifferent? It would not be honest to do so.

You told me, madam, the first time I had the honour to see you, that you were absolutely and bona fide disengaged

I told you truth, sir.

Then, madam, we will not take your denial. We will persevere. We will not be discouraged! What a deuce! Have I not heard it said, that faint heart never won fair lady?

I never would give an absolute denial, sir, were I to have the least doubt of my mind. If I could balance, I would consult my friends, and refer to them, and their opinion should have due weight with me. But for your nephew's sake, Sir Rowland, while his esteem for me is young and conquerable, urge not this matter farther. I would not give pain to a worthy heart.

As I hope for mercy, madam, so well do I like your notions, that if you will be my niece, and let me but converse with you once a-day, I will be content with 100l. a year, and settle upon you all I have in the world.

His eyes glistened; his face glowed; an honest earnestness appeared in his countenance.

Generous man! Good Sir Rowland! said I. I was affected. I was forced to withdraw.

I soon returned, and found Sir Rowland, his handkerchief in his hand, applying very earnestly to my cousins; and they were so affected too, that, on his resuming the subject to me, they could not help putting in a word or two on his side of the question.

.

Sir Rowland then proposed to call in his nephew, that he might speak for himself. My boy may be overawed by love, madam; true love is always fearful; yet he is no milksop, I do assure you. To men he has courage. How he will behave to you, madam, I know not; for, really, notwithstanding that sweetness of aspect, which I should have thought would have led one to say what one would to you, (in modesty I mean,) I have now a kind of I cannot tell what for you myself. Reverence it is not, neither, I think-I only reverence my Makerand yet I believe it is. Why, madam, your face is one of God Almighty's wonders in a little compass!-Pardon me-you may blush-but be gracious now!-Don't shew us, that, with a face so encouragingly tender, you have a hard heart.

O Sir Rowland! you are an excellent advocate; but, pray, tell Mr FowlerI will call him in-and was rising.

No, don't-but tell Mr Fowler, that I regard him on a double account; for his own worth's sake and for his uncle's; but subject me not, I once more entreat you, to the pain of repulsing a worthy man. I repeat, that I am under obligation to him for the value he has for me; I shall be under more, if he will accept of my thanks as all I have to return.

My dear Miss Byron, said Mr Reeves, oblige Sir Rowland so far, as to take a little time to consider

God bless you on earth and in heaven, Mr Reeves, for this! you are a good man-Why, ay, take a little time to consider-God bless you, madam, take a little time. Say you will consider. You know not what a man of understanding my nephew is. Why, madam, modest as he is, and awed by his love for you, he cannot shew half the good sense he is master of.

Modest men must have merit, sir. But how can you, Mr Reeves, make a difficult task more difficult? And yet all is from the goodness of your heart. You see Sir Rowland thinks me cruel; I have no cruelty in my nature. I love to oblige. I wish to match you in generosity, Sir Rowland-ask me for anything but myself, and I will endeavour to oblige you.

Admirable, by mercy! Why, everything you say, instead of making me desist, induces me to persevere. There is no yielding up such a prize, if one can obtain it. Tell me, Mr Reeves, where there is such another woman to be had, and we may give up Miss Byron; but I hope she will consider of it.-Pray, madam-but I will call in my nephew. And out he went in haste, as if he were afraid of being again forbidden.

Meantime, my cousins put it to me--but before I could answer them, the Knight, followed by his nephew, returned.

Mr Fowler entered, bowing in the most respectful manner. He looked much more dejected than when he approached me at my first coming down. His uncle had given him a hint of what had passed between us.

Mr Fowler and I had just sat down, when the knight said to Mr Reeves, (but took him not by the button, as in his first visit,) one word with you, sir-Mr Reeves, one word with you, if you please.

They withdrew together; and presently after Mrs Reeves went out at the other door; and I was left alone with Mr Fowler.

We both sat silent for about three or four minutes. I thought I ought not to begin; Mr Fowler knew not how. He drew his chair nearer to me; then sat a little farther off; then drew a little nearer again; stroked his ruffles, and hemmed two or three times; and at last,You cannot, madam, but observe my confusion, my concern, my, my, my confusion!-It is ow

ing to my reverence, my respect, my reverence, for you-hem!-He gave two gentle hems, and was silent.

I could not enjoy the modest man's awkwardness.-Every feature of his face working, his hands and his knees trembling, and his tongue faltering, how barbarous had I been, if I could. -O Lucy! what a disqualifier is love, if such agitations as these are the natural effects of that passion!

Sir Rowland has been acquainting me, sir, said I, with the good opinion you have of me. I am very much obliged to you for it. I have been telling Sir Rowland

Ah! madam! say not what you have been telling Sir Rowland; he has hinted it to me. I must indeed confess my unworthiness; yet I cannot forbear aspiring to your favour. Who that knows what will make him the happiest of men, however unworthy he may be, can forbear seeking his happiness? I can only say, I am the most miserable of men, if

Good Mr Fowler, interrupted I, indulge not a hope that cannot be answered. I will not pretend to say, that I should not merit your esteem, if I could return it; because to whomsoever I should give my hand, I would make it a point of duty to deserve his affection; but for that very reason, and that I may have no temptation to do otherwise, I must be convinced in my own mind that there is not a man in the world whom I could value more than him I chose.

Then, madam, may I not hope, that time, that my assiduities, that my profound reverence, my unbounded love

O Mr Fowler, think me not either insensible or ungrateful. But time, I am sure, can make no alteration in this case. I can only esteem you, and that from a motive which I think has selfishness in it, because you have shewn a regard for me.

No selfishness in this motive, madam; it is amiable gratitude. And if all the services of my life, if all the adoration

I have a very indifferent notion of sudden impressions, Mr Fowler; but I will not question the sincerity of a man I think so worthy. Sir Rowland has been very urgent with me; he has wished me to take time to consider. I have told him I would, if I could doubt; but that I cannot. For your own sake, therefore, let me entreat you to place your affections elsewhere. And may you place them happily!

You have, madam, I am afraid, seen men whom you could prefer to me

Our acquaintance, Mr Fowler, is very short. It would be no wonder if I had. Yet I told

you truly, that I never yet saw a man whom I could wish to marry.

He looked down, and sighed.

But, Mr Fowler, to be still more frank and explicit with you, as I think you a very worthy man; I will own, that were any of the gentlemen I have hitherto known to be my lot, it must be, I think, in compassion, (in gratitude, I had almost said,) one, (who nevertheless it cannot be,) who has professed a love for me ever since I was a child. A man of honour, of virtue, of modesty; such a man as I believe Mr Fowler is. His fortune, indeed, is not so considerable as Sir Rowland says yours will be; but, sir, as there is no other reason, on the comparison, why I should prefer Mr Fowler to him, I should think the worse of myself as long as I lived, if I gave a preference over such a tried affection to fortune only. And now, sir, I expect that you will make a generous use of my frankness, lest the gentleman, if you should know him, may hear of it. And this I request for his sake, as I think I never can be his; as for yours, I have been thus explicit.

I can only say, that I am the most miserable of men!-But will you, madam, give me leave to visit Mr Reeves now and then?

Not on my account, Mr Fowler. Understand it so; and if you see me, let it be with indifference, and without expectation from me; and I shall always behave myself to you, as to a man who has obliged me by his good opinion.

He bowed; sat in silence; pulled out his handkerchief-I pitied him.

But let me ask all you, my friends, who love Mr Orme, was I wrong? I think I never could love Mr Fowler, as a wife ought to do her husband-May he meet with a worthy woman who can! And surely so good, so modest a man, and of such an ample fortune, easily may; while it may be my lot, if ever I marry, to be the wife of a man, with whom I may not be so happy, as either Mr Orme or Mr Fowler would probably make me, could I prevail upon myself to be the wife of either.-O my uncle! often do I reflect on your mercer's shop.

Mr Fowler arose, and walked disconsolately about the room, and often profoundly, and I believe, (not Greville-like,) sincerely sighed. His motion soon brought in the Knight and Mr Reeves at one door, and Mrs Reeves at the other.

Well! What news? What news?-Good, I hope, said the Knight, with spread hands—Ah, my poor boy! Thus à la mort! Surely, madam

There he stopt, and looked wistfully at me; then at my cousins-Mr Reeves, Mrs Reeves, speak a good word for my boy. The heart that belongs to that countenance cannot be adamant surely.-Dear young lady, let your power be equalled by your mercy.

Mr Fowler, Sir Rowland, has too much ge