She raised her head; and, taking her mother's and Camilla's offered salts, smelt to them in turn -I think I am a little better. Were you, chevalier, ever in such a strange way?—I hope not -God preserve all people from being as I have been!--Why now you are all affected. Why do you all weep? What have I said? God forbid that I should afflict anybody!-Ah, chevalier ! and laid her hand upon my arm, God will bless you. I always said you were a tender-hearted man. God will pity him, that can pity another! -But, brother, my lord, I have not been at church of a long time: Have I? How long is it? Where is the General? Where is my uncle?-Laurana! poor Laurana! God forgive her! she is gone to answer for all her unkindness! And she said she was sorry, did she?

Thus rambled the poor lady! What, my dear Dr Bartlett, can be more affecting than these absences, these reveries, of a mind once so sound and sensible!

She withdrew, at her own motion, with Camilla; and we had no thoughts of communicating to her, at that time, my intentional absence. But as I was about taking my leave for the day, Camilla came into Jeronymo's chamber, where I was, and told me, that her young lady was very sedate, and desired to see me, if I were not gone.

She led me into Clementina's dressing-room, where was present the Marchioness only; who said, she thought I might apprize her daughter of my proposed journey to Naples ; and she herself began the subject.

My dear, said she, the chevalier has been acquainting my lord and me with an engagement he is under to visit your brother Giacomo, and his lady, at Naples.

That is a vast journey, said she.

Not for the chevalier, my dear. He is used to travel.

Only for a visit!Is it not better, sir, for you to stay here, where everybody loves you?

The General, my dear, and his lady, love the chevalier.

May be so. But did you promise them, sir?
I did, madam.

Why then you must perform your promise. But it was not kind in them to engage you. Why so, my dear? asked her mother.

Why so! Why, what will poor Jeronymo do for his friend?

Jeronymo has consented, my dear. He thinks the journey will do the chevalier good.

Nay, then-Will the journey do you good, sir? If it will, I am sure Jeronymo would not, for the world, detain you.

Are you willing, my dear, that the chevalier should go?

Yes, surely, madam, if it will do him good. I would lay down my life to do him good. Can we ever requite him for his goodness to us?

Mrs Beaumont is all goodness, said I. I will endeavour to engage her. I can go by sea to Naples; and then Florence will be in my way. Florence! Ay, and then you may see Olivia too, you know.

Olivia is not in Italy, madam. She is on her travels.

Nay, I am not against your seeing Olivia, if it will do you good to see her.

You don't love Olivia, my dear, said her mother.

Why, not much.-But will you send Mrs Beaumont to keep me company?

I hope, madam, I may be able to engage her. And how long shall you be gone?

If I go by sea, I shall return by the way of Rome; and shall make my absence longer or shorter, as I shall hear how my Jeronymo does, or as he will or will not dispense with it.

'That is very good of you-But, but-Suppose (a sweet blush overspread her face)—I don't know what I would say-But, for Jeronymo's sake, don't stay longer than will do you good. No need of that, you know.

Sweet creature! said the mother.

Did you call me so, madam? wrapping her arms about her, and hiding her faintly blushing face in her bosom. Then raising it up, her arms still folded about her mother: As long as I have my mamma with me, I am happy. Don't let me be sent away from you again, my mamma. I will do everything you bid me do. I never was disobedient-Was I? Fie upon me, if I was!

No, never, never, my dearest life!

So I hoped. For when I knew nothing, this I used to say over my beads; Gracious Father! let me never forget my duty to Thee, and to my parents! I was afraid I might, as I remembered nothing-But that was partly owing to LauPoor Laurana! She has now answered for it. I would pray her out of her pains, if I could. Yet she did torment me.

rana.

She has entertained a notion, that Laurana is dead; and as it has removed that terror which she used to have, at her very name, they intend not to undeceive her. But, Dr Bartlett, well or ill, did you ever know a more excellent creature?

Well, sir, and so you must go.-She quitted

the destined place; and for the faint hopes given in it of his friend's life. The Almighty will do his own work, and in his own way. And that must be best.

You ask me for my opinion of the contents of this letter, at large-What can I say?—This much I must say

I admire, more and more, your brother: I pity the family he is gone to comfort and relieve; and I pray for Clementina and Jeronymo; and this as well for your brother's sake as theirs.

He generously rejoices, that he did not pursue his own INCLINATIONS-I am very happy in what he says of your Harriet. Indeed, my dear, I am. Though we may be conscious of not deserving the praises bestowed upon us, yet are we fond of standing high in the opinion of those we love. Two paragraphs I have got by heart. I need not tell you which they are. But, alas! his greatly favoured friend is not so free, as he hoped she was. It is a pleasure to me, however, because it is such to him, that it is not his fault, but her own, that she is not.

The Countess, whom he so justly praises, writes to me; and I answer-But to what purpose? I am afraid, that a very important observation of his comes not in time to do me service; since, if my prudence is proportioned to my trials, I ought to have endeavoured to exert it sooner.

But, it seems, there is an insuperable objection against the poor lady's going into a nunnery. I never heard of that before. It seems right to the Marchioness, that the young lady, who is entitled to a great share of this world's goods, should not be dedicated to Heaven. This may be so in the family eye, for aught I know; but I am persuaded, that if there is any one of it, who would not have pleaded this obstacle to a divine dedication, it would be Clementina herself. And yet I own, I can allow of their regret, that the cruel Laurana should be a gainer by Clementina's being lost, as I may say, to the world.

Your brother's kind remembrance of Mr and Mrs Reeves is an honour done to me, as well as to them. I must take it so, Lady G. And what he says of me in the paragraph in which he mentions Emily, adds to the pride he had raised in me before.

Dr Bartlett is extremely obliging, in not offering to withhold any passage in your brother's letters from us. I have let him know, that I think him so; and have begged him not to spare anything out of tenderness to me, on a supposition that I may be affected, or made uneasy, by what your brother shall write to him. This is speaking very plainly, my dear; but it is to Dr Bartlett; and he signified to us, more than once, that he could not be a stranger to the heart of your Harriet.

And now, my dear Lady G, let me ask you, in my turn, what you think of one passage in your brother's letter, of which you have not taken the least notice in yours to me? "Charlotte, I hope, is happy. If she be not, it must be her own fault."

You have honestly owned in your last, (yet too roguishly for a true penitent,) that it was evidently so in the debate about being presented. Miss Grandison used to like the drawingroom well enough. Her brother has owned, in my hearing, as well as in yours, that had he not been so long out of England, and since his return to it so seldom in town, he would have made it a part of his duty to pay his attendance there, at proper times. But Lady G-, forsooth, disdained to appear as the property [Reflect but, my dear, how absurd, of a worthy man, to whom she had vowed love, honour, and obedience.

I should not remind you thus of past flippancies, did not new ones seem to spring up every day.

For Heaven's sake, my dear Lady G-, let it not be carried from England to Italy, that Lord G is not so happy with a sister of Sir Charles Grandison as might be expected; lest it be asked, Whether that sister, and this brother, had the same mother? I have written before all that I could possibly say on this subject. You know yourself to be wrong. It would be impertinence to expostulate farther on a duty so known, and acknowledged. No more, therefore, on this head, (authorize me to say,) for ever!

As to my health-I would fain be well. I am more sorry that I am not, for the sake of my friends, (who are incessantly grieving for me,) than for my own. I have not, I think I have not, anything to reproach myself with; nor yet anybody to reproach me. To whom have I given cause of triumph over me, by my ill usage, or insolence to him? I yield to an event to which I ought to submit; and to a woman, not less, but more worthy than myself; and who has a prior claim.

I long to hear of the meeting of this noble pair. May it be propitious! May Sir Charles Grandison have the satisfaction, and the merit with the family, of being the means of restoring to reason (a greater restoration than to health) the woman, every faculty of whose soul ought, in that case, to be devoted to God, and to him! Methinks I have at present but one wish; it is, that I may live to see this lady, if she is to be the happy woman. Could I, do you think, Lady G-, if I were to have this honour, cordially congratulate her as Lady Grandison? Heaven only knows! But it would be my glory, if I could; for then I should not scruple to put myself in a rank with Clementina; and to demand her hand, as that of my sister.

But, poor Olivia!-Shall I not pity the un

happy woman, who, I am afraid, is too shortsighted to look forward to that only consolation which can weaken the force of worldly disappointments?

My cousin Reeves, in a joyful letter, just now received, acquaints me with the birth of the fine boy his wife has presented to him: An event that exceedingly rejoices us all. He tells me in it, how good you are. Continue to them, my dear Lady G- -, your affectionate regards. They ever loved you; even for your very faults, so bewitchingly lively are you. But I have told Mr Reeves, that his partiality for you shews that he feels not for Lord G as he would for himself, were his wife a Lady G.

I will write to my other friends. Dear creature! Don't let me say that I love Lord Gbetter than I do Lady G. Yet, were the aggressor in a quarrel my own sister, endeared to me by a thousand generous offices, I would, I must love the sufferer best; at least, while he is a sufferer. Witness,

HARRIET BYRON.

LETTER CLXV.

MISS BYRON TO LADY G

Thursday, June 1. THANKS an hundred times repeated, to you, my dear Lady G, and to good Dr Bartlett, for the favour of Sir Charles's letters, of May 22, 23, 26, and 27, N. S., all following so quick, that which you favoured me with of the 10th21st, upon which I wrote to you yesterday. I dispatch them to you for the Doctor all together. I cannot, my dear, have much to say to the contents of these.

They have met: Had more interviews than

one.

Why cannot the Count of Belvedere-But no more of that. I don't like this General. The whole family (the two noble sufferers, Jeronymo and Clementina, excepted) seem to me to have more pride than gratitude-Ay, mother and all, my dear!

But you see Sir Charles has been indisposed. No wonder-Visited by the Marquis and Marchioness, you see. Not a slight illness, therefore, you may believe. God preserve him, and restore Lady Clementina, and the worthy Jeronymo!

His kind remembrance of me-But, my dear, I think the Doctor and you must forbear obli.. ging me with any more of his letters-His goodness, his tenderness, his delicacy, his strict honour, but add-Yet can any new instances add to a character so uniformly good?—But the chief reason of my self-denial, if you were to take me at my word, as to these communications, is, that

his affecting descriptions and narratives of Lady Clementina's reveries (poor, poor lady!) will break my heart! Yet you must send them to Your ever obliged HARRIET BYRON.

LETTER CLXVI.

LADY G TO MISS BYRON.

Monday, June 5.

MY DEAR CREATURE! You must not, you shall not be ill. What signify your heroics, child, if they only give you placid looks, and make an hypocrite of the sincerest girl in England? In other words, if they are only a cover for a despairing heart? Be better; be less affected; or, I can tell you, the Doctor and I, and Lady L—————, shall all think it but right to take you at your first word, and send you no more of my brother's letters. Yet we are all of us as greatly affected by the contents of them, as our dear Harriet can be. I am sure you will allow us to be so for the poor lady. But to subjects less interesting.

The Doctor is with us. Aunt Nell is in love with him. He ordered his matters, and came to town at Lady I's request and mine, and Beauchamp's, that we might the sooner come at my brother's letters-Very obliging!-Beauchamp worships the good man. He would have been with him at Grandison-Hall, but that Sir Harry and Lady Beauchamp knew not how to part with him; and I fancy another slyer reason withheld him, half unknown to himself. Love is certainly creeping into his heart. This Emily! a little rogue! has already (yet suspects it not) made a conquest. He deserves her better than any man I know: She him, had she not already a great hole in her heart, through which one may run one's head. But does not Beauchamp love the same person as much as she can do? And does he not know, that the girl is innocent, and the man virtuous, even, as I believe, to chastity?-Dear Harriet ! don't let the ladies around you, nor the gentlemen neither, hear this grace supposed to be my brother's. Nobody about us shall for me. I would not have my brother made the jest of one sex, and the aversion of the other; and be thought so singular a young man.

Beauchamp says nothing to anybody of his regard to Emily. But he lays himself out in so many unaffected assiduities to her, that one cannot but see it. She likes his company and his conversation. But why? because he is always launching out in the praises of his and her beloved friend. He says, there is not, he believes, such another innocent and undesigning heart in the world, except one in NorthamptonshireThere's for you, Harriet!-So he praises not

mine. That is the wickedest thing of these felons of men: Poverty compels them, thoughPoverty of genius!-They cannot praise one woman, but by robbing the rest. Different, however, from all men, is my brother. I will engage he could find attributes for fifty different women, yet do justice to them all; because, though he sees every one with favour, he is above flattering any.

Well, but, Harriet, I expected letters six times as long as those you have sent me. Upon my word, if you are so very heavenly-minded, as you appear to be in the first, (for the second is hardly a letter,) I will have you to town, and nun you up with Aunt Nell. The Doctor is one of the most pious men in England; but she will tire him with praying, and expounding, as she calls it. Do you know that the good creature was a Methodist in Yorkshire? These overdoers, my dear, are wicked wretches. What do they, but make religion look unlovely, and put under-doers out of heart? My brother is The Man: You know I must always bring in my brother, though I am a little out of humour with him, at present: And am I not justified by the many? Since it is always the way of those who intend not to amend, to set their hearts against their correctors-My brother professes not the one half of what he practises. He uses the fashion without abusing it, or himself, by following it. Some such words in a sacred book rumble in my mad head; but I know I have not them right.

It is impossible, say what you will, Harriet, to be long upon terms with this man-Lord GI mean. He was once half in the right, to be sure; but you should not have reproached me with that. The bride was shewn, the jewels were shewn, the whole family paraded it together; and Emily wrote you all how and about it. But never fear for your poor friend. The honest man will put himself in the wrong next, to save her credit. He has been long careless, and now he is, at times, imperious as well as careless. Very true! Nay, it was but yesterday that he attempted to hum a tune of contempt, upon my warbling an Italian air. An opera couple, we! Is it not charming to sing at (I cannot say to) each other, when we have a mind to be spiteful? But he has a miserable voice. He cannot sing so fine a song as I can. He should not attempt it. Besides, I can play to my song; that cannot he. Such a foe to melody, that he hates the very sight of my harpsichord. He flies out of the room, if I but move towards it.

He has everybody on his side; Lord and Lady L-, Emily, nay, Dr Bartlett and Aunt Nell. This sets him up. No such thing as managing one's own husband, when so many wise heads join together, to uphold him. Utterly ruined for a husband, is Lord G——. I once had some hopes of him; but now, every good-natured jest

is turned into earnest by these mediators and mediatrices.

A few days ago, in a fond fit, I would have stroked his cheek, though he was not in a very good humour neither-So, then! So, then! said I, as I had seen Beauchamp do an hour before by his prancing nag; and it was construed as a contempt; and his bristles got up upon it. Bless me, thought I, this man is not so sensible of a favour as Beauchamp's horse; and yet I have known the time when he has thought it an honour to be admitted to press the same fair hand with his lips on one knee.

Hark! He is now, at this very instant, complaining to Aunt Nell. Little do they think, that I am in her closet. She hears all he has to say, with greedy ears.-' -These antiquated souls are happy, when they can find reasons, from the disagreement of honest people in matrimony, to make a virtue of necessity." Thank the Lord, I am not married! If these be the fruits of matrimony!"-Ah! Lord, my dear! Now these last words have slipt me-The man-between you and me has been a villain to me! Can I forgive him? Could you, in my circumstances? Yet I hope it is not so. If it should, and Lady Gertrude and Aunt Nell (spiteful old souls!) should find their perpetual curiosity answered as they wish, I will have my own will in everything.

And how came I, you will wonder, in Aunt Nell's closet?—I will tell you. She had got my pen and ink; and I went to fetch it myself; the scribbling fit was strong upon me; so I sat down in her closet to write; and they both came into her chamber together, to have their own talk.-Hark, I say!-They are really talking of me-Complaining!-Abominable!-This wicked aunt of mine" I tell you, nephew, that you are too ready to make up with her."-Could you have believed this of one's own aunt? No won-, der that he is so refractory at times. But, hush!

Why don't he speak louder? He can't be in earnest hurt, if he does not raise his voice. Creeping soul, and whiner! I can't hear a word he says. I have enough against her!-But I want something against him-Deuce take them both! I can't hear more than the sound of her broken-toothed voice, mumbling; and his plaintive humdrum, whimpering. I will go out in full majesty. I will lighten upon them with airs imperial. How the poor souls will start at my appearance! How will their consciences fly in their faces! The complainer and adviser both detected in the very fact, as I may say: And yet perhaps you, Harriet, will think them less blameable than their conscience-striker.

Hem!-Three hems in anger !—And now I burst upon them.

O HARRIET! what a triumph was mine! Aunt Nell, who has naturally a good blow