nearest our hearts: but she must be cautioned to leave all arguments of that kind to her confessor and you; and to content herself to be an auditor, not an arguer; and we doubt not your honour. The marriage-articles will bind you, as they shall us-And now allow me to be be forehand with your Jeronymo, and ours, in saluting you our brother.

He took my hand; and, embracing me as such, You deal nobly with me, my lord, said I. I resign myself to your direction.

Jeronymo affectionately held out his arms, and joyfully saluted me as his brother. The Marquis, the Count, each took my hand: and the Marchioness offering hers, I pressed it with my lips; and, withdrawing, hastened to my lodgings; with a heart, O Dr Bartlett, how penetrated by a suspense so strange and unexpected!

But when they attribute to flight, and unsoundness of mind, that glorious passage, in which she proposes to take a revenge so noble on the cruel Laurana, they seem unable to comprehend, as I can easily do, the greatness of mind of this admirable woman.

LETTER CLXXXII.

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

Bologna, Monday, July 10-21. I HAD no call for rest last night. I only reposed myself in a chair for about an hour. I sent early in the morning a note, to inquire, with the tenderest solicitude, after all their healths; and particularly Clementina's and Jeronymo's. A written answer was returned by Jeronymo, that his sister had rested so very ill, that it was thought advisable to keep her quiet all day; unless she should be particularly earnest to see me; and in that case they would send me word.

I was myself very much indisposed, yet could scarce deny myself, though uninvited, to attend them at dinner. My own disorder, however, determined me not to go, unless sent for. It would, I thought, be too visible to them all; and might raise a suspicion that I wanted to move compassion: a meanness of which I am not capable. Yet, indisposed as I was still more in the afternoon, I hoped to have an invitation for half an hour. But not being sent to, I repeated my inquiries in another billet. No invitation followed. On the contrary, Jeronymo wrote one line, wishing to see me in the morning.

I had as little rest last night, as the night before. My impatience carried me to the palace of Porretta sooner than usual this morning. Signor Jeronymo rejoiced to see me. He hoped I did not take it amiss, that they invited

:

me not the day before. To say the truth, said he, the day's rest was judged entirely necessary for you both: for my sister particularly and she was so uneasy and displeased at your going away on Saturday, without taking leave of her, that she was the more easily persuaded not to see you yesterday. But already this morning, I understand, she asks after you with impatience. You are angry at her, she supposes, and will never see her more. You had but just left us, on Saturday night, when Camilla came down, with her request to see you. For my part, proceeded he, my thoughts are so much carried out of myself, by the extraordinary turn she has taken, that, at times, I forget I ail anything.

He then asked, If I could forgive his sister; and reflected on the sex, on her account, as never knowing their own minds, but when they meet with obstacles to their wills. But she must, she will, be yours, my Grandison, said he; and, if it please God to restore her, she will make you rich amends.

The Bishop and Father Marescotti came in, to make their morning compliments to Jeronymo: the Marquis and Count entered soon after, to salute me.

The Marchioness followed them. Clementina was so uneasy on Saturday night, said she to me, on finding you gone without taking leave of her, and so much discomposed all day yesterday, that I chose not to say anything to her on the great article. I am glad you are come.

Somebody just then tapping at the door, Come in, Camilla, said the Marchioness.

It is not Camilla; it is I, said Lady Clementina, entering. I am told the chevalier- there he is-Favour me, sir, with a few words-walking to a window at the other end of the room.

I followed her: tears were in her eyes. She · looked earnestly at me: when turning her face from me-Why, madam, said I, taking her hand, why this emotion? I have not, I hope, offended you?

O chevalier! I cannot bear to be slighted, and least of all by you; though, I must own, that I deserve it most from you. A slight from you is a charge of ingratitude upon me, that my heart cannot bear.

Slight you, madam!-I revere you, as the most excellent of women. You have, indeed, filled my heart with anguish: but I admire you more for the cause of that anguish, than it is possible for me to express.

Don't, don't say so. You will ruin me by your generosity. I think you must be angry with me. I think you must treat me ill, or how shall I keep my purpose?

Your purpose, dearest madam !-Your pur

pose!

direct me what to say, what to do! I resign myself wholly to your direction and theirs, and to yours, my dear Lady Clementina.

This

You say you forgive me, chevalier :-Now shall I forgive myself. God's goodness and yours will, I hope, perfectly restore me. is my direction, chevalier-Love my MIND, as yours ever was the principal object of my love! What, my dear, can be in this paper? said the Marchioness, holding it in her hand, trembling, and afraid to open it.

Pardon me, madam, answered ClementinaI could not shew it to you first. I could not reveal my purpose to Camilla neither. How could I, when I knew not whether I could or could not maintain it, or even mention it-But now, best of men, and, rising, laid her hand on my arm, leave me for a few moments. My heart is disturbed. Be so good as to excuse me, madam.

She again retired to her closet. We heard her sob, and Camilla hastening to her-O these hysterical disorders! said she―They tear her tender constitution in pieces.

The Marchioness left her to Camilla, and of fered me her hand.

Surprising! said she, as we went. Where will all this end? What can be in this paper?

I was unable to answer. And coming to the passage that led to her drawing-room, where she had left the gentlemen, I bowed on her hand; and, the same passage leading to the back-stairs, took that way into the garden, in order to try to recover and compose my spirits.

Who, my dear friend, could have expected such a turn as this?

I had not walked long, before Mr Lowther came to me-Signor Jeronymo, sir, said he, is greatly disturbed on reading a paper that has been put into his hands. He begs to see you instantly.

Mr Lowther left me at Jeronymo's chamberdoor.

He was on his couch. O my Grandison, said he, as I approached him with a thoughtful air, how much am I concerned for you! I cannot bear that such a spirit as yours should be subjected to the petulance of a brain-sick girl!

Hush, my Jeronymo! Let not the friend forget the brother. Clementina is the noblest of women. It is true, I was not prepared for this blow but I reverence her for her greatness of mind-You have read her paper?

I have; and am astonished at its contents. The Marquis, the Count, the Bishop, and Father Marescotti, entered. The Bishop embraced me. He disclaimed, in the name of every one, the knowledge of her intentions: he expected, he said, that she would have received my address with raptures of joy. But she must, she will, be yours, chevalier; we are all engaged in honour to you. This is only a start of female

delicacy, operating on a raised imagination. She leaves it to you, after all, to call her by what name you please.

May it be so! But ah, my lords! you see not the force of her arguments. With a lady so zealous in her religion, and so justly fond of her relations and country, they must have weightInstruct me, tell me, however, my lords: be pleased, madam, [the Marchioness joined us just before,] to advise me what to do.-I am yours. I will withdraw. Consult together; and let me know what I am to be.

I withdrew, and walked again into the garden.

Camilla came to me. O chevalier! what strange things are these? My lady has taken a resolution she never will be able to support. She commanded me to find you out, and to watch your looks, your behaviour, your temper. She cannot live, she says, if you are displeased with her— I see that your mind is greatly disturbed. Must I report it so?

Tell her, Camilla, that I am all resignation to her will: disturbed as she has been, tell her, that her peace of mind is dear to me as my own life; that I can have no anger, no resentment; and that I admire her more than I can express.

Camilla left me. Father Marescotti came to me presently after, with a request, that I would attend the family in Jeronymo's chamber.

We went up together. All that the good father said, as we walked in, was, that God knew what was best for us: for his part, he could only wonder and adore in silence.

When we were all seated, the Bishop said, My dear chevalier, you have entitled yourself to our utmost gratitude. It is confirmed, that Clementina shall be yours. Jeronymo will have it so: we are all of his mind. His mother will enter into conversation with her in your favour.

I am equally obliged and honoured by this goodness. But should she persist, what can I say, when she calls upon me, in the most solemn manner, to support her in her resolution; and not to put her upon taking advantage of the generosity of her friends?

She will be easily persuaded, no doubt, chevalier, answered the Bishop. She loves you. Does she not say in this very paper, "that it is in your power to make her break or keep her resolution? and to add what name you please to her Christian name?"

Nor can I, said the Marquis, bear that flight in Laurana's favour. If her mind were sound, her duty would not permit her to think of it.

It is our unanimous opinion, resumed the Bishop, that she will not be able to support her resolution. You see she is obliged to court your assistance, to enable her to keep it. Father Marescotti, it is true, has laid a stress upon some passages, in which she shews a doubt of her own strength, and dreads yours in a certain article

nearest our hearts: but she must be cautioned to leave all arguments of that kind to her confessor and you; and to content herself to be an auditor, not an arguer; and we doubt not your honour. The marriage-articles will bind you, as they shall us-And now allow me to be beforehand with your Jeronymo, and ours, in saluting you our brother.

He took my hand; and, embracing me as such, You deal nobly with me, my lord, said I. I resign myself to your direction.

Jeronymo affectionately held out his arms, and joyfully saluted me as his brother. The Marquis, the Count, each took my hand: and the Marchioness offering hers, I pressed it with my lips; and, withdrawing, hastened to my lodgings; with a heart, O Dr Bartlett, how penetrated by a suspense so strange and unexpected!

But when they attribute to flight, and unsoundness of mind, that glorious passage, in which she proposes to take a revenge so noble on the cruel Laurana, they seem unable to comprehend, as I can easily do, the greatness of mind of this admirable woman.

LETTER CLXXXII.

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

Bologna, Monday, July 10-21. I HAD no call for rest last night. I only reposed myself in a chair for about an hour. I sent early in the morning a note, to inquire, with the tenderest solicitude, after all their healths; and particularly Clementina's and Jeronymo's. A written answer was returned by Jeronymo, that his sister had rested so very ill, that it was thought advisable to keep her quiet all day; unless she should be particularly earnest to see me ; and in that case they would send me word.

I was myself very much indisposed, yet could scarce deny myself, though uninvited, to attend them at dinner. My own disorder, however, determined me not to go, unless sent for. It would, I thought, be too visible to them all; and might raise a suspicion that I wanted to move compassion: a meanness of which I am not capable. Yet, indisposed as I was still more in the afternoon, I hoped to have an invitation for half an hour. But not being sent to, I repeated my inquiries in another billet. No invitation followed. On the contrary, Jeronymo wrote one line, wishing to see me in the morning.

I had as little rest last night, as the night before. My impatience carried me to the palace of Porretta sooner than usual this morning. Signor Jeronymo rejoiced to see me. He hoped I did not take it amiss, that they invited

me not the day before. To say the truth, said he, the day's rest was judged entirely necessary for you both: for my sister particularly and she was so uneasy and displeased at your going away on Saturday, without taking leave of her, that she was the more easily persuaded not to see you yesterday. But already this morning, I understand, she asks after you with impatience. You are angry at her, she supposes, and will never see her more. You had but just left us, on Saturday night, when Camilla came down, with her request to see you. For my part, proceeded he, my thoughts are so much carried out of myself, by the extraordinary turn she has taken, that, at times, I forget I ail anything.

He then asked, If I could forgive his sister; and reflected on the sex, on her account, as ne ver knowing their own minds, but when they meet with obstacles to their wills. But she must, she will, be yours, my Grandison, said he; and, if it please God to restore her, she will make you rich amends.

The Bishop and Father Marescotti came in, to make their morning compliments to Jeronymo: the Marquis and Count entered soon after, to salute me.

The Marchioness followed them. Clementina was so uneasy on Saturday night, said she to me, on finding you gone without taking leave of her, and so much discomposed all day yesterday, that I chose not to say anything to her on the great article. I am glad you are come.

Somebody just then tapping at the door, Come in, Camilla, said the Marchioness.

It is not Camilla; it is I, said Lady Clementina, entering. I am told the chevalier-O there he is-Favour me, sir, with a few words-walking to a window at the other end of the room.

I followed her: tears were in her eyes. She looked earnestly at me: when turning her face from me-Why, madam, said I, taking her hand, why this emotion? I have not, I hope, offended you?

O chevalier! I cannot bear to be slighted, and least of all by you; though, I must own, that I deserve it most from you. A slight from you is a charge of ingratitude upon me, that my heart cannot bear.

Slight you, madam!-I revere you, as the most excellent of women. You have, indeed, filled my heart with anguish: but I admire you more for the cause of that anguish, than it is possible for me to express.

Don't, don't say so. You will ruin me by your generosity. I think you must be angry with me. I think you must treat me ill, or how shall I keep my purpose?

Your purpose, dearest madam !—Your pur

pose!

I do?

My purpose? Yes, sir. Will it afflict you, if Is it possible, madam, but it must? What would you think

Hush, hush, my good chevalier. I am afraid it will: but don't tell me it will. I cannot bear to afflict you.

When I had the honour of every one's consent, madam

That was in compassion to me, sir. My dearest love, said the Marquis, coming to us, that was at first our motive: but now an alliance with the Chevalier Grandison, in justice to his merits, is become our choice.

I bowed to the generous nobleman. She kneeled. Best and most indulgent of fathers! taking his hand, and kissing it; let me thank you for bearing with me as you have done. What trouble have I given you!-All the business of my future life shall be to shew my gratitude, and my obedience to your will.

The Marchioness then tenderly raising her, took her to the farther end of the room. They talked low; but we heard all they said. You were so very indifferent all day yesterday, and last night, said the Marchioness, that I would not disturb you, love, for fear of breaking your rest; else I would have told you, how desirous now we all are of an alliance with the Chevalier Grandison. No other way can he be rewarded for his goodness to us all.

Permit me, madam, answered Clementina, to give you the motives of my present conduct; of my self-denial; such is my value for the che valier, I will call it so: If I thought I could make the generous man happy; if I thought I should not rather punish than reward him; if I thought I should be happy in myself, and my soul would not be endangered; if I thought I could make you and my papa happy, by giving my hand to him; God knows that my heart would not make the least scruple. But, madam, the Almighty has laid his hand upon me. My head is not yet as it should be; and, before I took my resolution, I considered everything, as much as my poor shattered reason would permit me to consider it. This was the way I took -I prayed that God would direct me. I put myself in the situation of another person, who, circumstanced as I was, I supposed, came to me for advice. I saw plainly, that I could not deserve the chevalier, because I could not think as he thought, in the most important of all articles; and there was no likelihood of his thinking as I thought. I prayed for fortitude. I doubted myself. I altered and altered what I had written: but still all my alterations ran one way. It was against my own wishes. So this I took for an answer to my prayers. I transcribed it fair; but still I doubted myself. I would not consult you, madam: you had declared for the chevalier. That would not have been to do justice to the question before me, and to the divine impulse by which I was determined to be governed, if my prayers for it should be answered. I let not Camilla know my struggles. I besought the assistance of the blessed Virgin to favour an

unhappy maid, whose heart was in her duty, but whose head was disturbed. It was suggested to me what to do: yet I would not send to the chevalier what I had written. I still doubted my heart; and thought I never should be able to give him the paper. At last I resolved. But when he came, my heart recoiled. He could not but

see the distress I was in. I am sure I met with his pity. Could I but give him the paper, thought I, my difficulty would be over; for then I am sure, almost sure, that seeing my scruples, and the rectitude of my purpose, he will himself generously support me in my resolution. At last I gave the paper to him. And now let me say, that I verily think I shall be easier in my mind, if I can be allowed to adhere to the contents, yet not be thought ungrateful.-Dear blessed Grandison, turning to me, read once more that paper: and then if you will not, if you cannot, set me free, I will obey my friends, and make you as happy as I can.

She turned from every one, and clasping her hands, Great God, I thank thee, said she, for this serene moment!

Serene as the noble enthusiast thought her mind, I saw it was too high set. From the turn of her eyes I feared a relapse. It was owing to her greatness of mind, her reason and her love combating with each other, that she ever was disordered. I approached her-Admirable lady, said I, be you free! Whatever be my destiny, be you, for me, what you wish to be. If you are well and happy, I will, if possible, make myself so.

Dear Grandison, said the Bishop, coming up to me, and taking my hand, how do I admire you! But can you be thus great?

Shall I not emulate, my lord, such an example set by a woman?-I came over without any interested views. I considered myself, indeed, as bound by the conditions to which I had formerly yielded; but Lady Clementina and your family as free. When I was encouraged to hope, I did hope. I will now, though with deep regret, go back to my former situation. If Lady Clementina persists in her present resolution, I will endeavour to acquiesce with it. If she should change her mind, I will hold myself in readiness to receive her hand, as the greatest blessing that can be conferred upon me. Only let me add, that, in the first case, the difficulty upon me will be greatly increased, by the exalted contents of the paper she put into my hands on Saturday.

The Marchioness taking her daughter's hand and mine-O why, said she, should minds thus paired be sundered?—And will you, chevalier, wait with patience the result of my sweet child's -caprice-shall I call it?

Detain not my hand, my dear mamma! withdrawing it a little wildly-Let me go up, and pray, that my fortitude of mind, after the pain it has cost me to obtain it, may not forsake me.

mour. But what can I say to you on such sub

Away flew the angel.

She met Camilla in the passage-Dear Camilla! I have had an escape, as far as I know. My hand and the chevalier's hand, each in one of my mamma's!-My resolution was in danger. My mamma might have joined them, you know; and then I must have been his.

Jeronymo in silence, but tears in his eyes, attended to the scene between his sister and me. He embraced me-Dearest of men! let me repeat my mother's question: Can you with patience wait the result of this dear girl's caprice? I can; I will.

But I will talk to her myself, said he.

So, said the Marquis, will we all.

It will be right to do so, added the Count, lest she should repent when it is too late.

But I believe, said Father Marescotti, the chevalier himself would not wish, that Lady Clementina should be too vehemently urged. She pleads her soul: a strong plea: a plea that should not be overruled. I myself doubt very much, whether she will be able to adhere to her resolution if she be, she will merit beatification. But let her not be over-persuaded. Once more I should be glad to read the paper, the contents of which have so much surprised us all.

I had it in my pocket; and he asked permission to read it aloud. Jeronymo opposed his motion: but the Bishop approving it, he read it. He laid great emphasis upon particular words, and repeated several of the passages in it: you will easily guess which, my dear friend: and all were as much affected, they owned, as when they heard it first read: yet they joined in one doubt, notwithstanding what she had so lately said of the deliberation she had given her purpose, that she would not be able to adhere to her resolution; and made me many compliments on the

occasion.

But, my dear friend, if she can continue to interest her glory in the adherence, and they are not very urgent with her in my favour, I am inclined to believe, that she has greatness of mind sufficient to enable her to carry her resolution into effect. Where piety, my dear friend, engages the heart to give its first fervours to its superior duties, is it not probable that all temporal impulses should receive abatement, and become but secondary ones? And now will not Father Marescotti once more try to revive his influences over her mind?-Is it not his duty to do so, zealous Catholic as he is? Can the Bishop refuse, good man as he is, and as steady in his principles, to second the Father?

But what trials are these, my dear Dr Bartlett, to an expecting heart!-Will they not serve to convince us of the vanity of all human reliance for happiness? I am in a very serious hu

VOL. VIII.

I? "Let us," I remember you once said, "when we are called upon to act a great or manly part, preach by action. Words then will be needless." God only knows, whether the ardent heart would be punished, or rewarded, by the completion of its wishes: but this I know, that were Clementina to give me both her hand and her heart, and could not, by reason of her religious doubts, be happy with me, I should myself be extremely miserable; especially if I had been earnest to prevail upon her to favour me against her judg

ment.

LETTER CLXXXIII.

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

I WAS obliged to lay down my pen. My mind was too much disturbed to write on.

We had a great deal of discourse, before we quitted Jeronymo's chamber, on this extraordinary subject. They all, as I told you, expressed their doubts, whether the lady would be able to persist in her new resolution. The Marquis and Marchioness gave their opinion, that she should be left entirely to the workings of her own will; and the Count proposed, by way of enforcing their opinions, that neither the Bishop and Father Marescotti on one hand, (though religion was in the question,) nor Jeronymo and myself on the other, should endeavour to prevail upon her either to alter, or persevere in, her way of thinking. Jeronymo said, he desired only one conversation with his sister alone, before he complied with this proposal.

They put it to me. I said, that several passages in her paper were of too solemn a nature for me to refuse my consent to their proposal: but, however, if I should observe, in future conversations between her and me, that she was inclined to alter her mind, and seemed to wish to be encouraged to declare the alteration, they must allow me, for the sake of my own honour, as a man, and of her delicacy, as a woman, to shew the ardour of my attachment to her, by my preventing declaration, and even entreaty.

The Marchioness bowed to me, with a grateful smile of approbation.

Father Marescotti hesitated, as if he had something of an objection to make; but he was silenced by the Marquis's saying, On your honour, on your delicacy, I am sure, chevalier, we may rely.

I am absolutely of opinion that we may, said the Count. The chevalier can put himself in every one's situation, and can forget his own interest, when a right and just measure is to be taken.

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