as we have proceeded, we have behaved tolerably. Why, then, all this riot ?—yes, riot, Charlotte! against us, and against our sex? What, but for riot's sake?

"The humour upon you!"—The humour is upon you, with a witness! "Hang you, if you care!"-But, my dear, it would be more to your credit, if you did care; and if you checked the wicked humour.-Do you think nobody but you has such talents? Fain would I lower you, since, as it is evident, you take pride in your licence-Forgive me, my dear-Yet I will not say half I think of your wicked wit. Think you, that there are not many who could be as smart, as surprising, as you, were they to indulge a vein of what you call humour? Do you think your brother is not one? Would he not be too hard for you at your own weapons? Has he not convinced you that he could? But he, a man, can check the overflowing freedom.

But if I have set out wrong with your brother, I will do my endeavour to recover my path. You greatly oblige me with your conducting hand: but what necessity was there for you to lead me through briers and thorns, and to plunge me into two or three dirty puddles, in order to put me into the right path, when it lay before you in a dircct line, without going a bowshot about?

Be pleased, however, to consider situation, on 'my side, as well as on your brother's: I might be somewhat excusable for my awkwardness, perhaps, were it considered, that the notion of a double or divided love, on the man's part, came often into my head; indeed could not be long out; the lady so superlatively excellent! his affection for her, so allowably, as well as avowed ly, strong! Was it possible to avoid little jealousies, little petulancies, when slights were imaginable? The more for the excellency of the man; the more for my past weakness of so many months? I pretend not, my dearest Charlotte, to be got above nature: I know I am a weak silly girl; I am humbled in the sense I have of his and Clementina's superior merits. True love will ever make a person think meanly of herself, in proportion as she thinks highly of the object. Pride will be up, sometimes; but in the pull two ways, between that and mortification, a torn coat will be the consequence: and must not the tatterdemalion (what a new language will my uncle teach me!) then look simply? You bid me ask my aunt-You bid me tell my uncle-Naughty Charlotte! I will ask, I will tell, them nothing. Pray write me a letter next, that I can read to them. I skipt this passage-Read that-'um-'um-'um-Then skipt again-Hey-day! what's come to the girl? cried my uncle! can Lady G― write what Harriet cannot read? [There was a rebuke for you, Charlotte! For the love of God, let me read it! He bustled, laughed, shook his shoulders, rubbed his hands at the imagination-Some

pretty roguery, I warrant: dearly do I love Lady G! If you love me, Harriet, let me read; and once he snatched one of the sheets. I boldly struggled with him for it-For shame, Mr Selby, said my aunt. My dear, said my grandmother, if your uncle is so impetuous, you must shew him no more of your letters.

He then gave it up-Consider, Charlotte, what a fine piece of work we should have had with my uncle, had he read it through!

But, let me see,-What are the parts of this wicked letter, for which I can sincerely thank you?-O my dear, I cannot, cannot, without soiling my fingers, pick them out-Your intelligences, however, are among those which I hold for favours.

Poor Emily! that is a subject which delights, yet saddens me-We are laudably fond of distinguishing merit. But your brother's is so dazzling-Every woman is one's rival. But no more of my Emily! Dear creature! the subject pains me-Yet I cannot quit it.—You ask, if, after all, I think it right that she should live with me?-What can I say? For her sake, perhaps, it will not: yet how is her heart set upon it! For my own sake, as there is no perfect happiness to be expected in this life, I could be content to bear a little pain, were that dear girl to be either benefited or pleasured by it. Indeed I love her at my heart-And, what is more-I love myself for so sincerely loving her.

In the wicked part of your letter, what you write of your aunt Eleanor-But I have no patience with you, sinner as you are against light, and better knowledge! and derider of the infirmities, not of old maids, but of old age!-Don't you hope to live long yourself? That worthy lady wears not spectacles, Charlotte, because she never was so happy as to be married. Wicked Charlotte, to owe such obligation to the generosity of good Lord G―, for taking pity of you in time, Were you four or five-and-twenty when he honoured you with his hand at St George's Church? and yet to treat him as you do, in more places than one, in this very letter!

But I will tell you what I will do with this. same strange letter-I will transcribe all the good things in it. There are many which both delight and instruct; and some morning, before I dress for the day, I will [Sad task, Charlotte! but it shall be by way of penance for some of my faults and follies! transcribe the intolerable passages; so make two letters of it. One I will keep to shew my friends here, in order to increase, if it be possible, their admiration of my Charlotte; the bad one I will present to you. I know I shall transcribe it in a violent hurry-Not much matter whether it be legible, or not-The hobbling it will cause in the reading, will make it appear worse to you, than if you could read it as glibly as you write. If half of it be illegible, enough will be left to make you blush for the whole, and wonder what

sort of a pen it was that somebody, unknown to you, put into your standish.

-'s.

After all, spare me not, my ever-dear, my ever-charming friend! spare only your-self; don't let Charlotte run away from both GYou will then be always equally sure of my admiration and love. For dearly do I love you, with all your faults; so dearly, that, when I consider your faults by themselves, I am ready to arraign my heart, and to think there is more of the roguery of my Charlotte in it than I will allow of.

One punishment to you I intend, my dear In all my future letters I will write as if I had never seen this your naughty one. Indeed I am in a kind of way, faulty or not, that I cannot get out of all at once; but as soon as I can, I will, that I may better justify my displeasure at some parts of your letter, by the observance I will pay to others. That is a sweet sentence of my Charlotte's: " Change your name, and increase your consequence." Reflect, my dear; how naughty must you have been, that such a charming instance of goodness could not bribe to spare you

Your ever affectionate and grateful
HARRIET BYRON.

LETTER CCXXXI.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

Selby-House, Tuesday Morning, Oct. 24. MR DEANE would not go back with us. He laid a strict charge upon me, at parting, not to be punctilious.

I am not, my dear Lady G. Do you think I am? The men are their own enemies, if they wish us to be open-hearted and sincere, and are not so themselves. Let them enable us to depend on their candour, as much as we may on that of Sir Charles Grandison, and the women will be inexcusable, who shall play either the prude or the coquette with them. You will say I am very cunning, perhaps, to form at the same time a rule from, and an excuse for, my own conduct to this excellent man: but be that as it will, it is truth.

We sent our duty last night to Shirley-Manor, and expect every moment the dear parent there with us.

She is come. I will go down; and if I get her by myself, or only with my aunt and Lucy, I will tell her a thousand, thousand agreeable things, which have passed since last I had her tender blessing.

We have had this Greville and this Fenwick here. I could very well have spared them. Miss

Orme came hither also, uninvited, to breakfast; a favour she often does us. I knew not, at first, how to behave to Sir Charles before her she looked so jealous of him! so cold! Under her bent brow she looked at him: Yes, and No, were all her answers, with an air so stiff!-But this reserve lasted not above a quarter of an hour. Sir Charles addressed himself to me, with so much respect; to her, with so polite a freedom, that she could not hold her shyness.

Her brow cleared up; her eyes looked larger, and more free: her buttoned-up pretty mouth opened to a smile: she answered, she asked, questions; gave her required opinion on more topics than one, and was again all Miss Orme. Everybody took great notice of Sir Charles's fine address to her, and were charmed with him; for we all esteem Mr Orme, and love his sister. How pleasant it was to see the sunshine break out in her amiable countenance, and the gloom vanishing by degrees!

She took me out into the lesser parlour.What a strange variable creature am I said she: how I hated this Sir Charles Grandison before I saw him! I was vexed to find him, at first sight, answer what I had heard of him; for I was resolved to dislike him, though he had been an angel: but, ah, my poor brother! -I am afraid, that I myself shall be ready to give up his interest!-No wonder, my dear Miss Byron, that nobody else would do, when you had seen this man!-But still, let me bespeak your pity for my brother.-Would to Heaven you had not gone to London !-What went you thither for?

Sir Charles kindly inquired of her after Mr Orme's health; praised him for his character; wished his recovery; and to be allowed to cultivate the friendship of so worthy a man: and all this with an air so sincere !-But good men must love one another.

SIR CHARLES has just now declared to my aunt, that he thinks of going up to town, or to Grandison-Hall, I forget if they told me which, to-morrow or next day: perhaps he knows not to which himself. I was surprised. Perhaps he is tired with us. Let me recollect―Thursday was se'nnight? Why, indeed, he has been down with us twelve days!-No less.

But he has no doubts, no suspenses, from us, to keep love awake; his path is plain and smooth before him. He had demanded his day: we think we cannot immediately, and after so short a time past since his declaring himself, give it him-And why should he lose his precious time among us? I suppose he will be so good as to hold himself in readiness to obey our summons -He expects a summons from us, perhaps !—

O my dear Lady G! am I not perverse? I believe I am. Yet where there is room, from past circumstances, to dread a slight, though

none may be intended, and truly as I honour and revere Lady Clementina, my mind is not always great enough (perhaps from consciousness of demerit) to carry itself above apprehension and petulance, noble as is the man.

My uncle is a little down upon it; and why? Because, truly, my grandmamma has told him, that it is really too early yet to fix the day; and he reverences, as everybody does, her judgment. But why, he asks, cannot there be preparation making? Why may not something be seen going forward?

What? before the day is named? my aunt asks-As Harriet had desired to have his next letters arrive before she directly answered the question, she could not recede.

He went from them both greatly dissatisfied, and exclaiming against women's love of power, and never knowing how to make a right use of it.

A message from Sir Charles. He desires to attend me. I believe I shall be a little sullen: I know my heart: it is all his own; and I am loath to disoblige him-But he was far, far more attendant on Lady Clementina's motions: Don't you think so, Lady G? But she was all excellence-Well-But hush!-I say no more!

I WILL give you an account of our conversation. I verily believe, that, had he not touched the poor snail with too hasty a finger, which made her shrink again into her shell, I might have been brought to name the week, though not the day.

But I will not anticipate.

He entered with a very polite and affectionate air. He inquired after my health, and said, I looked not well-Only vexed, thought I!

It is impossible, I believe, to hold displeasure in the presence of a beloved object, with whom we are not mortally offended. My dearest Miss Byron, said he, taking my passive hand, I am come to ask your advice on twenty subjects. In the first place, here is a letter from Lady G, recommending to me a house near her own. [He gave it to me. I read it. Should you, madam, approve of Grosvenor-Square?

I was silent: you will guess how my captious folly appeared to him, by what he said to me. He respectfully took my hand-Why so solemn, dear madam? Why so silent? Has anything disturbed you? Some little displeasure seems to hang upon that open countenance. Not at me, I hope?

Yet it is, thought I ! but I did not intend you should see it. I cleared up; and, without answering his question, said, It is in the neighbourhood of Lady L- I hope.

Thank you, madam, for that hope-It is. Nor far from your cousin Reeves's.

I can have no objection, sir.

I will refer myself, on this subject, if you please, to my sisters, and Lord G. He vafues himself on his taste in houses and furniture, and will be delighted to be put into commission with my sisters on this occasion: or shall I stay till the happy day is over, and leave the choice wholly to yourself?

Lady G, sir, seems pleased with the house. She writes, that there is somebody else about it. It may not, then, be to be had.

Shall I, then, commission her to take it directly? What you please, sir.

He bowed to me, and said, then that matter is settled. And now, madam, let me own all my arts. You would penetrate into them, if I did not. You see that the great question is never out of my view-I cannot but hope and believe that you are above regarding mere punctilio.— Have you, my dearest Miss Byron, thought, can you think, of some early week, in which to fix my happy day?-Some preparation on your part, I presume, will be thought necessary; as to mine, were you to bless me with your hand next week, I should be aforehand in that particular.

I was silent. I was considering how to find some middle way that should make non-compliance appear neither disobliging, nor affected.

He looked up at me with love and tenderness in his aspect; but, having no answer, proceeded:

Your uncle, madam, and Mr Deane, will inform you, that the settlements are such as cannot be disapproved of. I expect every day some slight tokens of my affection for my dear Miss Byron, which will be adorned by the lovely wearer: I have not been so extravagant in them, as shall make her think I build on toys for her approbation. She will allow me to give her my notions on this subject. In the article of personal appearance, I think, that propriety and degree should be consulted, as well as fortune. Our degree, our fortune, madam, is not mean; but I, who always wished for the revival of Sumptuary laws, have not sought, in this article, to emulate princes. In my own dress, I am generally a conformist to the fashion. Singularity is usually the indication of something wrong in judgment. I rather, perhaps, dress too showy, though a young man, for one who builds no thing on outward appearance: But my father loved to be dressed. In matters which regard not morals, I choose to appear to his friends and tenants, as not doing discredit to his magnificent spirit.* I could not think it becoming, as those perhaps do, who have the direction of

the royal stamp on the coin, to set my face the contrary way to that of my predecessor. In a word, all my father's steps, in which I could tread, I did; and have chosen rather to build upon, than demolish, his foundations. But how does my vanity mislead me! I have vanity, madam; I have pride, and some consequential failings, which I cannot always get above: But, anxious as I ever shall be for your approbation, my whole heart shall be open to you; and every motive, every spring of action, so far as I can trace it, be it to my advantage or not, shall be made known to you. Happy the day that I became acquainted with Dr Bartlett! He will tell you, madam, that I am corrigible. You must perfect, by your sweet conversation, un-coupled with fear, what Dr Bartlett has so happily be gun; and I shall then be more worthy of you than at present I am.

O sir, you do me too much honour! You must be my monitor. As to the ornaments you speak of, I hope I shall always look upon simplicity of manners, a grateful return to the man I shall vow to honour, and a worthy behaviour to all around me, as my principal ornaments!

His eyes glistened. He bowed his face upon my hand, to hide, as I thought, his emotion. Excellent Miss Byron! said he. Then, after a pause, Now let me say, that I have the happiness to find my humble application to you acceptable to every one of your friends. The only woman on earth, whom, besides yourself, I ever could have wished to call mine, and all her everto-be-respected family (pleading their own sakes) join their wishes in my favour; and, were you to desire it, would, I am sure, signify as much to you under their own hands. I know not whether I could so far have overcome my own scruples in behalf of your delicacy, (placing myself, as persons always ought when they hope for favour, in the granter's place,) as to supplicate you so soon as I have done, but at the earnest request of a family, and for the sake of a lady I must ever hold dear. The world about you expects a speedy celebration. I have not, I own, been backward to encourage the expectation: It was impossible to conceal from it the motive of my coming down, as my abode was at an inn. I came with an equipage, because my pride (how great is my pride!) permitted me not to own that I doubted. Have you, madam, a material objection to an early day? Be so good to inform me, if you have. I wish to remove every shadow of doubt from your heart. I was silent. He proceeded :

Let me not pain you, madam!-lifting my hand to his lips-I would not pain you for the world. You have seen the unhappy Olivia: You have, perhaps, heard her story from herself. What must be the cause upon which self

partiality cannot put a gloss? Because I knew not how (It was shocking to my nature) to repulse a lady, she took my pity for encouragement. Pity from a lady of a man, is nobleThe declaration of pity from a man for a woman, may be thought a vanity bordering upon insult. Of such a nature is not mine-She has some noble qualities-From my heart, for her character's sake, I pity Olivia; and the more for that violence of temper which she never was taught to restrain. If, madam, you have any scruples on her account, own them: I will, for I honestly can, remove them.

O sir! none! none !-Not the least, on that unhappy lady's account

Let me say, proceeded he, that Olivia reveres you, and wishes you (I hope cordially, for she is afraid still of your sister-excellence) to be mine. Give me leave to boast (It is my boast) that though I have had pain from individuals of your sex, I can look back on my past life, and bless God that I never, from childhood to manhood, WILFULLY gave pain either to the MoTHERLY OR SISTERLY HEART ;* nor from man◄ hood to the present hour, to any other woman.

O sir! sir!-What is it you call pain, if at this instant (and I said it with tears) that which your goodness makes me feel, is not so?-The dear, the excellent Clementina! What a perverseness is in her fate! She, and she only, could have deserved you!

He bent his knee to the greatly-honoured Harriet-I acknowledge with transport, said he, the joy you give me by your magnanimity; such a more than sisterly magnanimity to that of Clementina. How nobly do you authorize my regard for her!-In you, madam, shall I have all her excellencies, without the abatements which must have been allowed, had she been mine, from considerations of religion and country. Believe me, madam, that my love of her, if I know my heart, is of such a nature, as never can abate the fervour of that I vow to you. To both of you, my principal attachment was to MIND: Yet let me say, that the personal union, to which you discourage me not to aspire, and the duties of that most intimate of all connections, will preserve to you the due preference; as (allow me to say) it would have done to her, had she accepted of my vows.

O sir! believe me incapable of affectation, of petulance, of disguise! My heart (Why should I not speak freely to Sir Charles Grandison?) is wholly yours!-It never knew another lord! I will flatter myself, that, had you never known Lady Clementina, and had she not been a prior love, you never would have had a divided heart!

What pain must you have had in the conflict! My regard for you bids me acknowledge my own vanity, in my pity for you?

I gushed into tears-You must leave me, sir I cannot bear the exaltation you have given me!

I turned away my face: I thought I should have fainted.

He clasped me to his bosom: He put his cheek to mine: For a moment we neither of us could speak.

He broke the short silence. I dread the effects on your tender health, of the pain that I, or rather your own greatness of mind, gives you. Beloved of my heart! kissing my cheek, wet at that moment with the tears of both, forgive me! And be assured, that reverence will always accompany my love. Will it be too much, just now, to re-urge the day that shall answer the wishes of Clementina, of her noble brothers, of all our own friends, and make you wholly mine?

His air was so noble; his eyes shewed so much awe, yet such manly dignity, that my heart gave way to its natural impulse-Why, sir, should I not declare my reliance on your candour? My honour, in the world's eye, I entrust to you: but bid me not do an improper thing, lest my desire of obliging you should make me forget myself.

Was not this a generous resignation? Did it not deserve a generous return? But he, even Sir Charles Grandison, endeavoured to make his advantage of it, letters from Italy unreceived! as if he thought my reference to those a punctilio also.

What a deposit!-Your honour, madam, is safely entrusted. Can punctilio be honour!It is but the shadow of it. What but that stands against your grant of an early day?-Do not think me misled by any impatience to call you mine, to take an undue advantage of your condescension. Is it not the happiness of both that I wish to confirm? And shall I suffer false delicacy, false gratitude, to take place of the true?-Allow me, madam-But you seem uneasy-I will prolong the time I had intended to beg you would permit me to limit you to. Let me request from you the choice of some one happy day, before the expiration of the next fourteen.

Consider, sir!

Nothing, madam, happening in my behaviour to cause you to revoke the generous trust: From abroad there cannot.

He looked to be in earnest in his request: Was it not almost an ungenerous return to my confidence in him? Twelve days only had elapsed since his personal declaration; the letters from Italy, which he had allowed me to wait for, unreceived; Lady D-, one of the most delicate-minded of women, knowing too my preferable regard for your brother: And must not the hurry have the worse appearance for that? No preparation yet thought of: My aunt thinking his former urgency, greatly as she

honours him, rather too precipitating-My spirits, hurried before, were really affected. Do not call me a silly girl, dearest Lady G―! I endeavoured to speak; but, at the instant, could not distinctly.

I am sorry, madam, that what I have said has so much disturbed you. Surely some one day in the fourteen

Indeed, indeed, sir, interrupted I, you have surprised me: I did not think you could have wished so to limit me-I did not expect

What, loveliest of women! will you allow me to expect? The day is still at your own choice. Revoke not, however, the generous concession till Mrs Shirley, Mrs Selby, and our Lucy, are consulted. Will you, dearest madam, be determined by them?

Say not, sir, to any of them, after such an instance of my confidence in you-for the honour of your accustomed generosity, say it not-that you could so limit me ; and I will endeavour to forget it.

Consider, my dearest Miss Byron——

I believe my grandmamma is come, said I— They are all goodness: they will indulge me. I will tell you, madam, taking my hand, and seating me, what is my intention, if you approve of it. All the country suppose that my application for your favour meets with encouragement: they expect, as I have told you, a speedy solemnization. I took my lodgings at some little distance from you, at a place of public entertainment; perhaps (pardon me, madam, for the sake of my ingenuousness) with some view, that the general talk [See, Lady G! it is well he is a good man!] would help to accelerate my happy day : but, madam, to continue my daily visits from thence, when my happiness is supposed to be near, will not, perhaps, loole so well-We are to be studious for looks, it seems-Indeed I would not be thought to despise the world's opinion: the world, when it will have patience to stay till it is master of facts, is not always wrong: it can judge of others, better than it can act itself—The change of my lodgings to others in this house, or in Shirley-Manor, will not, perhaps, be allowed till I am blessed with the hand of the dearest relation of both: I therefore think of going up to town, declaredly (Why not?) to prepare for our nuptials; and to return near the time agreed upon for the happy celebration. Then will either this house, or Shirley-Manor, be allowed to receive the happiest of men.

He stopt: I was silent. He proceeded, looking tenderly, yet smilingly, in my downcast face, still holding my hand:-And now, dearer to me than life, let me ask you, Can you think it an unpardonable intrusion on your condescending goodness, that I make the time of my return to my Miss Byron not over tedious ?Fourteen days, were you to go to the extent of them, would be an age to me, who have been