and told her, that the chevalier's arguments were unanswerable. I dwelt upon some of them. She wept, and was silent.

We then, my dear Grandison, shewed Mrs Beaumont your letter to me.-She read it-How, said she, has this excellent young man been embarrassed! I know, from some of my countrymen, the character of the lady whom he mentions: she is an excellent woman !-May I take up this letter, and read it to Lady Clementina? By all means, answered the General; and support, dear madam, the contents of both with your weight. It will be from perverseness now, if she withstand us. Bid her remember, that she has had once at her feet a kneeling father! Bid her remember the written hopes she has given us!

Mrs Beaumont went up with it. I will give you an account of what my sister said, as she read it. O Grandison, read it but cursorily; you will more and more admire and love the Clementina, who, before her malady, was always considered as one of the first of women, and the glory of our house!

She desired to have it in her own hands; Mrs Beaumont, to whose pen we owe the account, looked over her, and followed her eye as she read.*

"And did he still," said she, " after he had got to England, hope for a change in my resolution ?"-Heaven knows-She stopt; sighed, and read on.

"He foresaw that my friends would press me to marry!"-I foresaw it too!-I have indeed been pressed; vehemently pressed!

"Rather than any other"-Ah, chevalier!Why, why, were the obstacles religion and country! None less should have-She stopt-Then, reading to herself, proceeded :

"It was not presumptuous to hope"-No, Grandison; presumptuous it could not be.

"It was justice to Clementina to attend the event, and to wait for the promised letter." Kind, considerate Grandison!-You were all patience, all goodness!-O that

There she stopt. Then proceeding :"Fourth brother! not interested in the event." Indeed I did write so

"Give up all his hopes!"-Dear Grandison! "It could not be expected that he should give the argument all its weight."-He has given it too much!

"Duty to yield to the entreaties of all my friends." Ah, Grandison!

"Difficult situations !”—Difficult indeed! And here am I, who have, more than any other in the world, enhanced his difficulties!-Unhappy Clementina !-Then reading on

Good God! Mrs Beaumont! There is an English lady, with whom he was actually-Does

he not hint in love?-Nay, then-Take it, take it, Mrs Beaumont !-I can read no fartherCompassion only, I suppose, brought him over to me!-I cannot bear that!-Yet snatching it from her, and reading :—

"Beauty her least perfection"-[Happy English lady!" Either in my eyes, or her own!" -Have I not wished him such a woman?"Had I never known Clementina!"-How could I be so captious!

"Loves her with a flame as pure as the heart of Clementina"-Think you, chevalier! Indeed I have no impurity in my love-My God only have I preferred to you: and I bless God for enabling me to give so due a preference !—" or, as her own heart can boast."-Just such a wife did I wish him; and shall I not rejoice, if such a one will hold out her hand to make him happy?

She sighed often, as she read on; but spoke not, till she came to the words, "That she was to you, what you might truly call, a first love;" A first love, repeated she; he was indeed mine! Permit me to say, my dear friends, a first and only one.

"It became him, he says, in honour, in gratitude, though the difficulties in his way seemed insuperable, And so they must seem, to hold himself in suspense, and not offer to make his addresses to any other woman."—Generous, noble Grandison!-He did love me-Discouraged as he was; nay, insulted by some of us; [Giacomo hears me not, looking round her: He, the generous Grandison, did love me. She wiped her eyes.

Recovering herself, and reading on—See here, Mrs Beaumont-" He thought himself obliged, in honour to me, and to the persons themselves, to decline proposals of advantage." Surely he must think me an ungrateful creature.

But (reading on) did he "balance in his mind between this lady and me?"-He did. But it was because of his uncertainty with me.

Reading to herself, to the words "Almost an equal interest," How is that, said she, repeating them?-O, it is explained—" But when his dear Clementina" [Do I go too fast for your eye, Mrs Beaumont?" began to shew signs of recovery," [She sighed,]" and seemed to confirm the hopes I had given him of my partiality for him," Modest, good man!" then did I content myself," says he, [Look, Mrs Beaumont, "with wishing another husband to the English lady, more worthy of her than my unhappy situation could have made me."-Excellent English lady! If it were in my power, I would make you amends for having shared a heart with you, (so it seems,) that ought, my circumstances and your merit considered, to have been all your own!

"What a disappointment was my rejection of him!"-See, these are his words. And these too; that " he admires me, however, for my motives."

"Marriage, he says, is not in his power; for there is but one woman in the world, now I have refused him, that he can think worthy of succeeding me."-What honour he does me! Thank God she is an Englishwoman! O that I had any influence over her! Sweet lady, amiable Englishwoman, let not punctilio deprive you of such a man as this!-Shew her this letter, my good Grandison! Let me transcribe from it, rather for your perusal, happy English lady! certain passages in it, so delicate, so worthy of himself, and of you.

"Thousands, of whom he is not worthy," he says. How can he say so?

"She has for an admirer every one who knows her." She shall have me for an admirer, Mrs Beaumont, if she will accept of my fourth brother. She will accept of him, if she deserves the character he gives her; let me tell you, lady, that your heart is narrower than that of Clementina, if you think it a diminution to your honour, that he has loved that Clementina. Why cannot you and I be sisters? My love shall be but a sisterly love. You may depend upon the honour of the Chevalier Grandison. He will do his duty in every relation of life. What can be your doubts?

"Even Olivia, he says, admires you!"-And will such a woman stand upon punctilious observances, like women of ordinary consequence, having to deal with common men?-O that I knew this lady! I would convince her, that he can do justice to her greater, and to my lesser merits; and yet not appear to be divided by a double love; although he should own to all the world, as he says he will," [See, see, Mrs Beaumont, these are his very words," his affection for Clementina, and glory in it!"

O Mrs Beaumont, how my soul, putting her hand to her forehead, then to her heart, loves his soul! nor but for one obstacle, that would have shaken my faith, and endangered my salvation, (hadI got over it,) should his soul only have been the object of my love.

Let me but continue single, my dear friends; indulge me in the wish that has been so long next my heart; and take not advantage of the hopes I have given you in writing; and I shall pass happily through this short life; a life that deserves not the bustle which we make about it. Ask me not either to "set or follow the example you propose to me;" I cannot do either. Unkind chevalier, why would you strengthen their hands, and weaken mine?-Yet, if it became your justice, what had I but justice to expect from a just man; who has so eminently performed all his own duties, and particularly the filial: which he here calls an article of religion?

When she came to the concluding part of this letter, and your wishes for her perfect recovery, health, and welfare, and for the happiness of us all: May every blessing, said she, he wishes us, be his!

Then folding up the letter, and putting it in her bosom ; This letter, and that which accompanied it, (meaning yours to her,) I must read over and over.

Shall I say, my Grandison, that I half-pity the lovely Harriet Byron, though her name should be changed to yours? You must love Clementina; were a sovereign princess her rival, you must. Clementina! who so generously can give up a love as fervent as ever glowed in a virgin heart, on superior motives; motives which regard eternity; and receive joy in the prospect of your happiness with another woman, on a persuasion that that woman can make you happier than she herself could, because of a difference in religion.

My sister choosing to retire to her closet, to reperuse the two letters, Mrs Beaumont, knowing our curiosity, put down what had passed; intending, as she said, to write a copy of it for you.

How were we all, on perusing it, charmed with our Clementina! I insisted, that nothing, at present, should be said to her of the Count of Belvedere, and of our wishes in his favour. My father gave into my opinion. He said, he thought the properest time to mention the Count to her, was, when we had an answer to the letter I wrote to you on the 5th current, if that could give us assurances that you had made your addresses to the charming Byron, and were encouraged. The General was impatient; but he acquiesced, on finding every one come into my motion; but said, that if all this lenity did not do, he must beg leave to have his own measures pursued.

SOME little particularity has appeared in the dear creature since I have written the above. She has been exceedingly earnest with her mother, to use her interest with my father, and us, to be allowed to go to England; but desires not the permission, till you are actually married. She pleads my health, because of the salutary springs you mentioned to me.

Several other pleas she offered; but, to say truth, they carried with them such an air of flightiness, that I am loath to mention them; yet all of them were innocent, all of them were even laudable. But (shall I say?) that some of them appeared too romantic for a settled brain to be so earnest, as she is, for having them carried into execution.

We have no doubt, but all her view is, to avoid marriage, by such a strange excursion. Dear creature, said the Bishop, speaking of her

ust now, the veil denied her, she must have some point to carry; I wish we saw less rapidity in her manner.

I, Grandison, for my part, remember how much she and we all suffered by denying her the farewell visit from you, on your taking leave of Italy the time before the last.

and disarms one's heart, and makes one wish to oblige them; and so renders one miserable, whether we do or do not comply. Believe me, Jeronymo, there is great cruelty in persuasion, and still more to a soft and gentle temper, than to a stubborn one: persuaders know not what they make such a person suffer.

But all this time she is uniform and steady in her wishes for your marriage. She delights to hear Mrs Beaumont talk of the perfections of the lady to whom we are all desirous of hear ing you are united. You had written, it seems, to Mrs Beaumont, a character given of this young lady by Olivia, upon a personal knowledge of her. Mrs Beaumont shewed it to Cle

mentina.

How generously did the dear creature rejoice in it. Just such a woman, said she, did I wish for the chevalier. Olivia has shewn greatness of mind in this instance. Perhaps I have thought too hardly of Olivia. Little did I think, I should ever have requested a copy of anything written by Olivia. Ill-will disables us from seeing those beauties in the person who is the object of it, which would otherwise strike us to her advantage. You must oblige me, added she, with a copy of this extract.

Oct. 20, N. S. You will be pleased, I know, my Grandison, with every particular that shall tend to demonstrate the pleasure the dear Clementina takes in hoping you will be soon the happy man we all wish you to be.

This morning she came down with her work into my chamber. I invite myself, Jeronymo, said she. I will sit down by you, till you are disposed to rise. She then, of her own motion, began to talk of you; and I, putting it to her, (as her mother did yesterday,) whether she would be really glad to hear of your nuptials, received the same answer she then made; she sincerely should; she hoped the next letters would bring an account that it was so. But then, Jeronymo, continued she, I shall be teazed, persecuted. Let me not, my brother, be persecuted. I don't know, whether downright compulsion is not more tolerable than over-earnest entreaty. A child, in the first instance, may contract herself, as I may say, within her own compass; may be hardened; but the entreaty of such friends as undoubtedly mean one's good, dilates

Ah Jeronymo! How little do I deserve this fine compliment !-Magnanimity, my brother! You know not what I yet, at times, suffer!And have you not seen my reason vanquished in the unequal conflict! She wept. But let the che valier be married, and to the angel that is talked of; and let me comfort myself, that he is not a sufferer by my withholding my hand-And then let me be indulged in a single life, in a place consecrated to retirement from the vain world; and we shall both be happy.

Mrs Beaumont came to seek her. I prevailed on her to sit down, and my sister to stay a little longer. I extolled my sister to her; she joined in the just praise. But one act of magnanimity, said Mrs Beaumont, seems wanting to complete the greatness of your character, my love, in this particular case of the expected marriage of the Chevalier Grandison.

What is that, Mrs Beaumont ?-all attention. You see his doubts, his apprehensions of appearing worthy of the lady so highly spoken of, because of that delicacy of situation (which, as you observe, Olivia also hints at) from what may be called a divided love: Miss Byron may very well imagine, as his love of you commenced before he knew her, that she may injure you if she receive his addresses; you had the generosity to wish, when you were reading those his apprehensions, that you knew the lady, and were able to influence her in his favour.

Well, Mrs Beaumont

Can I doubt that Lady Clementina is able to set her name to the noble sentiments, that so lately, in reading his letter, flowed from her lips?

What would Mrs Beaumont have me do?

Let me lead you to your own closet. Pen, ink, and paper, are always before you there. Assume your whole noble self, and we shall see what that assumption will produce.

All that is in my power, said she, to promote the happiness of a man who has suffered so much through my means, it is my duty to do.

She gave her hand to Mrs Beaumont; who led her to her closet, and left her there. The following is the result. Generous, noble creature! -But does it not shew a raised imagination! especially in the disposition of the lines?

heart is in trouble, and she must write; and must beg the favour of you, the most indulgent guardian that ever poor orphan had, to answer her by pen and ink. For whether you can forgive her or not, she will be equally incapable of bearing your goodness, or your displeasure. How weakly I express myself! I find I shall write worse to you than to anybody else: And why? Because I wish to write best. But I have great awe, and no genius. I am a poor girl in every sense; as you shall hear by and by. I hope you won't be very angry with me. If you are, I shall be worse than poor-I shall be miserable.

But to come before my guardian as a delinquent, when I have ambition enough to wish to shine in his eyes, if so it could have been !-It is a very great mortification indeed! If you were to acquit me, I shall have had great punishment in that thought.

But to open my troubled heart to you-Yet how shall I? I thought to tell it you yesterday; but for my life I could not. Did you not observe me once, sir, hanging upon the back of your chair, unable to stand in your sight? O how I felt my face glow! Then it was I thought to have spoken my mind; but you were so kind, so good to me, I could not, might I have had the world. You took my hand-I shall be very bold to repeat it; but am always so proud of your kind notice, that I can't help it: "And you said, drawing me gently to you, "Why keeps my Emily behind me? What can I do for my Emily? Tell me, child: Is there anything I can do for my ward?" Yet, though the occasion was so fair, I could not tell you. But I shall tire you before I come to the point (to the fault, I should say) that has emboldened me to write.

This, then, is the truth of the matter:My poor mother, sir, is very good now, you know. You have taken from her all her cares about this world. She and her husband live together happily and elegantly: They want for nothing; and are grown quite religious: So that they have leisure to think of their souls' good. They make me cry for joy, whenever I go to them. They pray for you, and heap blessings upon you; and cry, to think they ever offended

you.

But, sir, I took it into my head, knowing it was a vast way for them to go from Soho to somewhere in Moorfields, to hear the preacher they admire so much, and coach-hire, and charities, and contributions, of one kind or other, (for their minister has no establishment,) and old debts paying off, that at present, though I believe they are frugal enough, they can't be much aforehand-So, thought I, shall I ride in my guardian's coach at one time, in Lady G- -'s at another, in Lady L-'s at another; though so much better able to walk than my poor mother; while she is growing into years, and when infirmities are coming on; and my guardian's example before me, so opening to one's heart?

I ventured, therefore, unknown to my mother and her husband, unknown to anybody, by way of surprise, to bespeak a plain neat chariot, and agreed for a coachman and a pair of horses; for I had about one hundred and thirty guineas by me when I bespoke it. Out of this, thought I, (which is my own money, without account,) I shall be able to spare enough for the first half year's expenses; after which they will be in circumstances to keep it on: And as quarters come round, thought I, I will stint myself, and throw in something towards it; and then my poor mother and her husband can go to serve God, and take sometimes an airing, or so, where they please; and make an appearance in the world, as the mother of the girl who is entitled to so large a fortune. And I don't grudge Mr O'Hara; for he is vastly tender of my mother now: which must be a great comfort to her, you know, sir, now she is come to be sorry for past things, and apt to be very spiritless, when she looks back—

Poor dear woman!

But here, sir, was the thing: Believing it became me, as Lady L, Lady G, and Mrs Eleanor Grandison, intended to shew their respect to you, on a certain happy occasion, by new clothes, to shew mine the same way; I went to the mercer's, and was so tempted by two patterns, that, not knowing which to choose, I bought of both; not thinking, at the time, of the bespoken chariot. To be sure, I ought to have consulted Lady L- or Lady Gbut, foolish creature as I was, I must be for surprising them too with my fine fancy.

Then I laid out a good deal more than I intended, in millinery matters; not but I had my pennyworths for my penny: But the milliners are so very obliging; they shew one this pretty thing, and that fashionable one, and are so apt to praise one's taste; and one is so willing to believe them, and be thought mighty clever; that there is no resisting the vanity they raise. I own all my folly: I ever will, sir, when I am guilty of any greater silliness than ordinary; for I have no bad heart, I hope, though I am one of the flowers I once heard you compare some of us to, who are late before they blow into discretion.

But now, good sir, came on my distress: For the bespoken chariot was ready; ready sooner by a fortnight than I expected. I thought my quarter would be nearer ended: and I had made a vast hole in my money. I pulled up a courage; I had need of it: and borrowed fifty guineas of Lady G: but, from this foolish love of surprises, cared not to tell her for what. And having occasion to pay two or three bills, (I was a thoughtless creature, to be sure,) which, unluckily, though I had asked for them before, were brought in just then, I borrowed another sum, but yet told not Lady G for what; and the dear lady, I believe, thought me an extravagant girl: I saw she did, by her looks.

But, however, I caused the new chariot to be