logize to you, for taking the liberty, though you allowed it to me, of attending to what passed between you and my sister.

I should, my lord, have said everything I did say to your sister, the occasion the same, before your whole assembled family. Your lordship has therefore no apologies to make to me. Heard you all that passed?

I believe I did. Those apartments were always the women's. Camilla placed me in a closet that I knew not of, where I heard every word you both said of the last part of your conversation. I must ask you, chevalier-Is not Clementina

Clementina, my lord, is all that is great and good in woman. You will imagine, that it would have been much more easy for me to support myself under the resolution she has taken, had I not had such testimonies of her magnanimity. Permit me, my lord, to say, that I have one good quality: I can admire goodness or greatness wherever I meet with it; and that whether it makes for me, or against me. Clementina has all my reverence.

He made me compliments, and withdrew. The Marquis, the Count, and the Marchioness, afterwards joined me in the garden. The Bishop and Father Marescotti not coming with them, or presently after them, I doubted not but they went to Clementina, in order to applaud her for, and confirm her in, a resolution, which must be agreeable to them.

I was right in my conjecture.

The Marquis and Count each took my hand, and first expressed their surprise at the young lady's adherence to her resolution and next, their high value of me. The Marchioness observed, That her daughter, with all her excellencies, was ever difficult of persuasion, when she had deliberately resolved upon any point.

It was easy, I said, to see, that they all now were of one opinion; which was, that Lady Clementina was not to be moved from her present purpose.

They owned they were: but said, that if it were not mine, they thought themselves bound in honour to consent, that I should try, by generous means, (and they were sure I would not think of any other,) to prevail upon her in my favour.

I presume, said I, that the Bishop has already acquainted you with the substance of what passed just now between Lady Clementina and me?

than I could have expected, though not without tears,) that you promised to urge her no more on this subject. She owns, that more than once, as you talked to her, she could hardly forbear giving you her hand, on your own terms. But she says, that you were the most generous of men, when you saw she made a point of conscience of her adherence to her newly-taken resolution. And now, chevalier, having made my lord and the Count acquainted with all these things, we are come to advise with you what is to be done.

Dear Grandison, said the Marquis, advise us. We want an opportunity to shew you, in more than words, our gratitude for all your goodness to us: we want to appease our Jeronymo ; who is ready to suspect, that his brother and Father Marescotti have contributed to this turn of our daughter's mind: and we want you to declare freely your own sentiments, with regard to Clementina; and whether you would advise us, as well for her own sake, as for yours, to endeavour to prevail on her to change her mind. Dear creature! a relapse would now be fatal to her, and to her mother and me.

I have no difficulty, my lord, to answer to these points. As to the first, I am greatly rewarded by the pleasure I have, in the more than could be hoped-for happy effects of Mr Lowther's skill; and in the prospects that open to us of Lady Clementina's restored health of mind. On this subject I have but one request to make: it is, that you will not mortify me so much, as to suppose that I am not sufficiently rewarded.

As to appeasing the generous mind of Signor Jeronymo, let that task be Lady Clementina's. She can plead conscience with more force for herself, than any second person can do for her; and if she does, it will be a demonstration to us all, of her being likely to be happy in her perseverance!-More happy than I shall be! The admirable lady who has silenced, on this head, a man so deeply interested to contest this point with her, will certainly be able to appease a brother by the same pleas; and the sooner, as, being of the same religion with the lovely pleader, her arguments will have greater force with him, than they could be supposed to have on me. For, let me say, my lord, that I could not so much as seem to give way to them, had I not been accustomed, when I was to judge of another's actions, to suppose myself that very person: hence have I often thought myself obliged to give judgment against my own wishes; though, on resuming MYSELF, I have not found reason to disapprove my first expectation.

As to the third point, what can I say?—And yet, as your lordship has put it, does it not call upon me, as I may say, to give a proof of the disinterestedness I have mentioned? I answer then, as supposing myself in your situation—Į cannot expect that you will urge an interest,

which I, by having put myself into that of Lady Clementina, have promised not to urge, unless she change her mind. What plea can a parent make use of, but that of filial duty? And where the child can plead conscience in answer, ought it to be insisted on ?

And now, resuming MYSELF, let me presume to advise you to give the dear lady full time to consider and re-consider the case. Her imagination may be heated: in other words, her malady may have a share in the heroism she has so nobly exerted: and yet I am afraid she will persevere. Permit me, my lords, to say afraid: I cannot wholly divest myself of self, in this very affecting case. We will not therefore take her at her word: I will absent myself for some time from Bologna; but (as she has the goodness to acknowledge an esteem for me) with her leave. I will return at my time. I will repeat my absences, if we have the least shadow of doubt. But if she hold her purpose, and shall not be visibly worse in her health or mind, we may conclude her resolution unalterable. this case, I shall have one or two requests to lay before you; and, if granted, will endeavour to make myself as happy as a man in such a situation can be.

In

They applauded my advice. They declared themselves unwilling to think of giving up the pleasure they had brought themselves to have, in considering me as one of their family; and assured me, that it would have been impossible, that any the least difficulty should have arisen from them, after they had brought themselves to dispense with the most material one.

They were earnest with me to pass the evening with them. But I excused myself. I wanted to be at my own lodgings, in order to revolve all that had passed. But having not taken leave of Lady Clementina, I imagined she might think I went away in ill humour, if I forbore it. My whole study, I told them, should be to make Lady Clementina easy and if the Marchioness would be so good as to permit me to take leave of her for the evening, in her presence, I would depart; only making my compliments to Signor Jeronymo, by Mr Lowther; knowing that he would be grieved for my disappointment; and my mind not being at present easy enough, to contend with his concern for me.

The Marchioness said, she would see in what way her Clementina then was; and acquaint me, by Camilla, with her wishes. She withdrew; leaving the Marquis, the Count, and me together.

Before we could renew our discourse, the Bishop and Father Marescotti joined us: both in high spirits. They were excessively complaisant It was easy to guess at the occasion of their good-humour. I could not be greatly delighted with it. But when the Count told them what had passed, before they joined us, the Bi

to me.

shop embraced me; the Father unawares snatched my hand, and kissed it.

I was glad to be relieved from their compliments, by the expected message from the Marchioness and Clementina.

The young lady met me, as I entered, at the door of her apartment. She held out her hand to me. I respectfully took it. I saw she had been in tears: but she looked with a serenity, that I was glad to see, though I doubted not but it was partly owing to the conversation she had had, since I left her, with her brother and her confessor, as well as to what might have passed between her mother and her.

She led me to a chair between them both. She withdrew not her hand; and aimed at a more cheerful countenance than I had a heart. I congratulated her on her serenity. It is in your power, sir, said she, to make me still more serene-Can you, of a truth, and from your heart, approve of my present way of thinking? Can you, chevalier ?

I can admire you for it, madam. You have exalted yourself, in my opinion. But I must regret it-Because-But I have promised not to urge you. Your conscience, madam, is concerned To endeavour but to persuade against conscience, if you have no doubt of your motive, is not warranted, even in a parent.

I am, I think I am, returned she, absolutely sure of my motive. But, my dear mamma, be pleased to put the questions I wished you to put to the chevalier.

She still suffered me to withhold her hand; and with the other took out her handkerchief; not to wipe away her tears, but to hide her blushes. She wept not: her bosom heaved with the grandeur of her sentiments.

The question, my dear Grandison, said the Marchioness, is this-We have all of us told my Clementina, that you are invincible on the article of religion. She believes us: she doubts it not, from your behaviour and words: but as she would not omit any means to convince you of her high regard for you, she is desirous to hear from your own lips, that you are not to be convinced: she is not afraid, the article so important, to hear you declare, that you will not be a Catholic. It will make her more easy, upon reflection, to be told by you yourself, that you cannot comply, even were she to consent to be yours, at a very short day, if you could.

The exalted lady stood up, still not withdrawing her hand-False shame! I despise thee, said she yet, covered with blushes, she turned her face from me.-That hand, as this heart, putting her other hand to her throbbing bosom, is yours, on that one condition-I am convinced of your affection for me-But fear not to tell me, (it is for my own future peace of mind that I ask it,) that you cannot accept it on the terms.

She then withdrew her hand, and would have

gone from me: but again I snatched it with both of mine.

Do you, most excellent of human beings, let me ask you, do you consider the inequality in the case between us, as you are pleased to put it? I presume not to require a change of principles in you. You are only afraid of your perseverance, though you are to be left to your freedom; and your confessor to strengthen and confirm you. Of me, is not an actual change required against conviction ?-Dearest Lady Clementina! Can you, can you, (your mind great and generous in every other case,) insist upon a condition so unequal?-Be great throughout; and I kneeled to her-Be uniformly noble -Withdraw not your hand.

She struggled it, however, from me; and, hastening to her closet-Once more, chevalier, said she, read my paper.

I left her, and approaching the Marchioness, who was in tears, Judge me, madam, said I, as I, in your opinion, deserve-What shall I say? -I can urge my hopes no farther: my promise is against me: Clementina is despotic-Forgive me! But indeed Clementina is not impartial

Dear chevalier, said the Marchioness, giving me her hand, what can I say?—I admire you! I glory in my child! I could not, myself in her place, have withstood your plea. When her imagination is cool, I still question if she will hold her purpose-Propose to her, if you can engage her to descend from these heights, your intended absence-You must calm her.-You only can. Her soul is wrought up to too high a pitch.

O madam! But I must first try to quiet my

own.

I withdrew into the room adjoining; and in a few minutes returning, found the lovely daughter encircled by the arms of the indulgent mother, both in tears. Clementina was speaking.

These were the words I heard her say :Indeed, my dearest mamma, I am not angry with the chevalier. Why should I? But he can allow for me. I cannot be so great as he. Don't I say, that I should be undone by his goodness?

She turned her head, and seeing me, disengaged herself from her mother's arms, and met me. Allow for me, sir, I beseech you, said she. I may be partial. I believe I am: but you can forgive me: I will hope you can—Read my paper, said I, and went from you: but it was not in anger. Read it, I again say. I can give no other answer. I never can be happy with a man whom I think a heretic; and the moment I should, in tenderness, in duty, think him not one, I shall cease myself to be a Catholic. A husband, sir, allied to perdition, what wife can bear the reflection?

The chevalier, my dear, urges you not. He adheres to his promise. You were willing to put a question to him yourself. I consented that he should answer it in your presence, for the

sake of your future peace of mind. He has spoken to it like himself: he has shewn you how much he admires you, at the same time that he signifies his inviolable adherence to his own religion. My dearest love, he has conceded to terms in our favour, that we have not conceded to in his. Glorious and unexceptionable is his adherence, were it to a right religion. He believes it is. He might urge much to his own advantage from your adherence to yours: but he has only hinted at that to us, not to you. He is willing to wait the event of your will. He will leave us, as he did more than once before, and return; and if you persevere, he will endeavour to make himself easy

And leave us; and return to England, I sup

pose?

No doubt of it, my dear.

While the Florentine is there?

I never, madam, can be anything but a wellwisher to the Florentine.

God give you, sir, and me too, ease of mind. But I find my head overstrained. It is bound round as with a cord, I think, putting her hands to each side of it for a moment-You must leave me, sir. But if you will see me to-morrow morning, and tell me whither you intend to go, and what you intend to do, I shall be obliged to you. Cannot we talk together, sir, as brother and sister? or as tutor and pupil ?—Those were happy days! Let us try to recover them.

She put her hand to her forehead, as apprehensive of disorder; and looked discomposed. I bowed to both ladies, in silence; retired; and, without endeavouring to see anybody else, went to my lodgings.

LETTER CLXXXVI.

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

Bologna, Thursday, July 13-24. I HAD a visit early this morning from the Count of Belvedere. He found me very much indisposed. He had heard that I met with some difficulties, and attributed my indisposition to them.

I owned that it might be so. My life, my lord, said I, has not been so happy as might have been hoped for, by a man who has made it his study to avoid giving offence, either to man or woman; and has endeavoured to restrain passions, that otherwise might have been as unruly as those of other young men, in my circumstances. But, I bless God, I have resolution. I may bend beneath a weight, when it is first laid upon me: but if I find I cannot shake it off, I will endeavour to collect my strength, and make myself easy under it. Pardon me, my lord: I do not often allow my mind to break

The Marchioness came in soon after, and taking me aside, chid me with tenderness even maternal, for coming abroad. The rest of the family soon joined us; and then they all, as with one voice, offered to use their interest with Clementina in my favour, if either my peace of mind, or my health, were likely to be affected by her present resolution.

While there was conscience in it, I answered, I would not for the world, that she should be urged to change it. Nothing now, as I believed, remained to be done, but to try the firmness of her resolution, by first short, and then longer absences: and those I would propose to herself, if they thought fit, when I was next admitted to her presence.

Jeronymo, and all the family, I saw, were of one mind. Tell me, say, my dear Dr Bartlett, is it excusable in a man, who has been so long favoured by your conversation, and should have been benefited by your example, who have behaved so greatly in disappointments, and even persecutions, to find in himself a pride that, at the instant, had almost carried him into petulance, when he saw every one of this family appear to be more pleased than displeased, that he was not likely to be allied to them?-Who yet, when he coolly considers, and puts himself in the case of each individual of it, must acknowledge, that they might well be allowed to rejoice (the great article religion out of the question) in hope of keeping her among them in her native country; and the more, because of the unhappy disorder of her mind; and out of a distant one, obnoxious to them all, as England is? Would not my own father and mother, would not I myself, have equally rejoiced in such a turn in the affections of a sister of my own; especially if we had complied with her principally from motives of compassion, and contrary to the interests of our family?

The Marchioness conducted me to the young lady. She received me with a blush, as a person would do another whom she was sensible she had causelessly disappointed. She took notice, after the first emotion, that I seemed not to be well, and cast an eye of compassion on me. A slight indisposition, I said, that might, perhaps, be owing to my late inactivity and want of exercise. I had thoughts of once more making the tour of Italy, in order to visit the many kind friends at different courts, who had honoured me with their notice during my former abode there.

How long do you propose to be absent, sir? Perhaps a month, madam.

A month, sir!—She sighed and looked down. Signor Jeronymo, I hope, said I, will correspond with me.

I could almost wish, said she-Pardon me, madam, to her mother-and looked bashfully down.

What would my child wish?

That I might correspond with the chevalier in his absence-As his sister, as his pupil, I think I might.

You will do me, madam, the highest honour Dear madam, to the Marchioness, may I not have your interest with Lady Clementina, to engage her to pursue her kind hint ?

By all means. My dearest love, it will not misbecome you in any character, whether as pupil, as sister, or friend, to write to such a man as the Chevalier Grandison.

Perhaps then I may, said she. You, madam, shall see all that passes in this correspondence. That shall be as you please, my love. I can absolutely depend upon the chevalier's generosity, and your prudence.

I should choose, madam, said I, that you should see all that passes. As amusement is principally my view in this tour, I can be punctual to place and time.

But shall you be gone a month, sir?

As much less, madam, as you shall command. Nay, as things are circumstanced, it is not for me- -She stopt, sighed, and looked down.

You, madam, are above unnecessary reserve. I never yet abused a confidence. I am proud of your good opinion. I never will do anything to forfeit it. Whatever shall be your pleasure, that signify to me in the letters you will favour me with. I will be all grateful obedience. Whither, sir, do you intend to go first? To Florence, madam.

To Florence, sir?-But Lady Olivia, I think, is not there-To Mrs Beaumont, I suppose?

I will send you, madam, from Florence, the beginning letter of the hoped-for correspondence. I will be careful to be within distance of receiving your favour in a very short space, by means of a servant whom I will leave at Florence, to attend to our correspondence.

And when, sir, do you leave Bologna?

I will now take leave of my new correspondent, and my dear friends here; and dispose myself for my little route.

She looked at her mother; then at me-again sighed, blushed, and looked down-Well, sir, was all she said.

Will you not drink chocolate with us to-morrow? said the Marchioness.

Iexcused myself. As I was not well, I thought I might be obliged to keep my chamber for two or three days; and that therefore it was better to take leave of her then, that I might not give them anxiety, for their own sakes, on a supposal, that I owed my indisposition to my disappointment. And yet, Dr Bartlett-But you know my heart, and all its imperfections: and will you not, on this extraordinary occasion, allow me to give way to my native pride, for my own sake? Who but must admire the exalted mind of this young lady? What man would not wish her to be his? But to covet a relation to a family, however illustrious, however worthy, every one of