LETTER CCXLIV.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

Tuesday, twelve o'clock, Nov. 7.

In a small hand, under the Superscription of the inner Cover. My dearest Lady G―, pray read the first page of this Letter, before you open the other dreadful one, sealed with five seals, and stitched to the cover, (that it may not slide officiously into your hands.) Lucy will have me send the whole of that shocking Letter. Against my judgment, I comply.

WE met this morning, soul-less, and forlorn, all equally unable either to give or receive consolation. The officious note was taken up, laid down, taken up again; the hand endeavoured to be guessed at; and at last it was concluded, to dispatch a servant to Mr Greville's to learn news of the supposed traitor.

But behold! before the servant could return, in a riding-dress, having alighted at the out ward gate, entered the hall your noble brother. I was the first whom he saw; the first who saw him. I was just going out, intending (yet hardly knowing my intention,) to walk in the Elm-row fronting the house, in order to shorten the way of the returning servant with news.

He cast himself at my feet. Something he said, and more he intended to say; excusing his early return, and thanking me for my favour of the Wednesday before; when my joyful surprise overpowered both my speech and senses.And what will you say to me, when I tell you, that, on my recovery, I found myself in his arms, mine clasped about his neck?

He was surprised at my emotion. Well he might-Every one, in a moment, crowded about him-My aunt also folded her arms around him.-Welcome, welcome, welcome, was all she could at the instant say.

I, utterly abashed, trembling, and doubting my feet, motioned to quit the hall for the parlour-But nobody minded me; all were busied in congratulating the joy of every heart; till Sally presenting herself, I leaned upon her, and staggering to the parlour, threw myself into an elbow-chair.

Your brother, attended by all my friends, followed me in. My heart again bid him welcome, though my eye could not, at that instant, bear his. He took my hand, as I sat, between both his, and in the most respectful manner, pressing it with his lips, besought me to compose myself.

They had hinted to him in the hall, the cause of all our emotions-They had as much reason to blush, as I had.-Nancy, it seems, even Nancy, snatched his hand, and kissed it in raptures. How dear is he to us all! He sees it now; there

can be no reserves to him, after this. Punctilio! family-punctilio! mentioned he in his letter!We have now no pretensions to it

His eyes shone with grateful sensibility. Look down upon me, loveliest of women, said he, with a bent knee; look down upon me, and tell me, you forgive me, for my early return. But, though returned, I am entirely at your devotion.

Lucy says, she never saw me more to my advantage. I looked down upon him, as he bid me, smiling through my tears. He stole gently my handkerchief from my half-hid face; with it he dried my unaverted cheek, and put it, she says, in his bosom. I have lost it.

My uncle and aunt withdrew with him, and acquainted him with all particulars. To them he acknowledged, in words of eloquent love, my uncle said, the honour done him by me, and by us all, in the demonstrations we had given of our tender regard for him.

I was, by the time of their return to us, pretty well recovered. Sir Charles approached me, without taking notice of the emotion I had been in. Mr and Mrs Selby tell me, said he to me, that I am to be favoured with a residence at our venerable Mrs Shirley's. This, though a high honour, looks a little distant; so would the next door, if it were not under the same roof with my Miss Byron; but, smiling tenderly upon me, I shall presume to hope, that this very distance will turn to my account. Mrs Shirley's Harriet cannot decline paying her accustomed duty to the best of grandmothers.

Bowing, I shall not, sir, said I, be the more backward to pay my duty to my grandmamma, for your obliging her with your company.

Thus, resumed he, snatching my hand, and ardently pressing it with his lips, do I honour to myself for the honour done me. How poor is man, that he cannot express his gratitude to the object of his vows, for obligations conferred, but by owing to her new obligation!

Then turning round to my aunt-It is incumbent upon me, madam, said he, to pay my early devoirs to Mrs Shirley, the hospitable Mrs Shirley, repeated he, smiling; which looked as if he expected to be here. There, besides, (looking pleasantly upon my aunt,) I may be asked— here I am not to break my fast.

This set us all into motion. My uncle ran out to look after Sir Charles's servants, who, it seems, in our hurry, were disregarded; their horses in the court-yard; three of them walking about, waiting their master's orders. My uncle was ready, in the true taste of old English hospitality, to pull them in.

Chocolate was instantly brought for their master; and a dish for each of us. We had made but a poor breakfast, any of us. I could get nothing down before. My aunt put a second dish into my hand; I took her kind meaning, and presented it to Sir Charles. How gratefully

did he receive it! Will it always be so, Lady G? My love, heightened by my duty, shall not, when the obligation is doubled, make me less deserving of his politeness, if I can help it. But still this dreadful note, and Greville's reported moodiness, made us uneasy; the servant we sent returned, with information that Mr Greville came home late last night. He was not stirring, it seems, though eleven o'clock, when the servant reached his house. He is said to be not well; and, as one servant of his told ours, so very fretful, and ill-tempered, that they none of them know how to speak to him. God grant -But let me keep to myself such of my apprehensions as are founded on conjecture-Why should I not hope the best? Is not your beloved brother at present safe? And is he not the care of Providence?—I humbly trust he is.

Sir Charles took the note. I think I have seen the hand, said he; if I have, I shall find out the writer. I dare say, it is written with a good intention.

My uncle and we all expressed, some in words, some by looks, our apprehensions.

There cannot possibly be room for any, said Sir Charles; always present to himself. Mr Greville loves Miss Byron. It is no wonder, as his apprehensions of losing all hopes of her for ever grow stronger, that he should be uneasy. He would make but an ill compliment to her merit, and his own sincerity, if he were not. But such stake as he has in his country, he cannot have desperate intentions. I remember to his advantage, his last behaviour here. I will make him a visit. I must engage Mr Greville to rank me in the number of his friends.

What he said gave us comfort. No wonder if we women love courage in a man; we ought, if it be true courage, like that of your excellent brother. After all, my dear, I think we must allow a natural superiority in the minds of men over women. Do we not want protection? And does not that want imply inferiority?-Yet if there be two sorts of courage, an acquired and a natural; why may not the former be obtained by women, as well as by men, were they to have the same education? NATURAL courage may belong to either. Had Miss Barnevelt, for example, had a boy's education, she would have probably challenged her man, on provocation given; and he might have come off but poorly. But we have more silly antipathies than men, which help to keep us down; whether those may not sometimes be owing to affectation, do you, Lady G, who, however, have as little affectation as ever woman had, determine. A frog, a toad, a spider, a beetle, an earwig, will give us mighty pretty tender terror; while the heroic men will trample the insect under foot, and look the more brave for their barbarity, and for our delicate screaming. But, for an adventure, if a lover get us into one, we frequently leave him a great way behind us. Don't you

ever.

Sir Charles told us, that he should have been with us last night, but for a visit he was obliged to pay to Sir Harry Beauchamp; to make up for which hindrance, he took horse, and ordered his equipage to follow him.

He is gone to pay his duty, as he is pleased to call it, to my grandmamma, in my uncle's coach, my uncle with him. If they cannot prevail on my grandmamma to come hither to dinner, and if she is desirous Sir Charles should dine with her, he will oblige her-by my aunt's leave, was his address to her. But, perhaps, she will have the goodness to add her company to his, as she knows that will give us all double pleasure: she loves to give pleasure. Often does the dear lady say, "How can palsied age, which is but a terrifying object to youth, expect the indulgence, the love of the young and gay, if it does not study to promote those pleasures which itself was fond of in youth? Enjoy innocently your season, girls, once said she, setting half a score of us into country dances. I watch for the failure of my memory; and shall never give it over for quite lost, till I forget what were my own innocent wishes and delights in the days of my youth."

Tuesday, five o'clock.

My uncle and Sir Charles came back to dinner; my grandmamma with them. She was so good as to give them her company, at the first word. Sir Charles, as we sat at dinner, and afterwards, saw me weak in mind, bashful, and not quite recovered; and he seemed to watch my uncle's eyes, and so much diverted him and all of us, that my uncle had not opportunity to put forth, as usual. How did this kind protection assure me! I thought myself quite well; and was so cheerfully silent when Sir Charles talked, that my grandmamma and aunt, who had placed me between them, whispered me severally-You look charmingly easy, love-You look like yourself, my dear. Yet still this mischievous Greville ran in my head.

My uncle took notice, that Sir Charles had said, he guessed at the writer of the note. He wished he would give him an item, as he called it, whom he thought of.

You observe, sir, answered Sir Charles, that the writer says, Mr Greville was in wine. He professes to be an encourager of the people of the George in Northampton. He often appoints company to meet him there. I imagine the writer to be the head waiter of the house; the bills delivered me in, seem to have been written in such a hand as the note, as far as I can carry the hand-writing in my eye.

Ads-heart, said my uncle, that's undoubtedly right; your name's up, sir, I can tell you,

among men, women, and children. This man, in his note, calls you (look, else!) the most generous and noble of men. He says we shall never know the writer!—Ads-dines! the man must deal in art magic, that conceals himself from you, if you have a mind to find him out.

Well, but, said Lucy, if this be so, I am concerned at the reality of the information. Such threatenings as Mr Greville throws out, are not to be slighted. Very true, said my uncle. Mr Deane and I (Mr Deane will certainly be here by and by) will go, and discourse with Greville himself to-morrow, please the Lord.

Sir Charles begged that this matter might be left to his management. Mr Greville and I, said he, are upon such a foot, as whether he be so sincerely my friend as I am his, or not, will warrant a visit to him; and he cannot but take it as a civility, on my return into these parts. Should he be affronting, Sir Charles? said my uncle

I can have patience, if he should. He cannot be grossly so.

I know not that, replied my uncle ; Mr Greville is a roister!

Well, dear Mr Selby, leave this matter to me. Were there to be danger; the way to avoid it, is not to appear to be afraid of it. One man's fear gives another courage. I have no manner of doubt of being able to bring Mr Greville with me to an amicable dish of tea, or to dinner, which you please, to-morrow.-Ads-heart, sir, I wish not to see at either, the wretch who could threaten the life of a man so dear to us all.

Sir Charles bowed to my uncle for his sincere compliment. I have nothing to do, said he, but to invite myself either to breakfast, or dine with him. His former scheme of appearing to the world well with me, in order to save his spirit, will be resumed; and all will be right.

My aunt expressed her fears, however, and looked at me, as I did at her, with a countenance, I suppose, far from being unapprehensive; but Sir Charles said, You must leave me, my dear friends, to my own methods; nor be anxious for my safety. I am not a rash man; I can pity Mr Greville; and the man I pity, cannot easily provoke me.

We were all the easier for what the charmingly-cool, because truly-brave, man said on a subject which has given us all so much terror.

But was he not very good, my dear, not to say one word all this day of the important errand on which he came down? And to lead the subjects of conversation with design, as my aunt and grandmamma both thought, as well as I, that my uncle should not? and to give me time to recover my spirits? Yet when he did address himself to me, never were tenderness and respect so engagingly mingled. This my uncle observed, as well as my aunt and Lucy. How the deuce, said he, does this Sir Charles manage it? He has a way no man but him ever found out

He can court without speech: he can take one's heart, and say never a word. Hay, Harriet! looking archly.

MR DEANE is come-In charming health and spirits-Thank God! With what cordiality did Sir Charles and he embrace each other!

Sir Charles attended my grandmamma home; so we had not his company at supper. No convenience without its contrary. He is her own son; she is his own parent. Such an unaffected love, on both sides!-Such a sweetly-easy, yet respectful, familiarity between them! What additional pleasures must a young woman in my situation have, when she can consider herself as the bond of union between the family she is of, and that she is entering into! How dreadful, on the contrary, must be her case, who is the occasion of propagating dissension, irreconcilable hatred, and abhorrence between her own relations and those of the man to whom she for life engages herself!

My grandmother and Sir Charles were no sooner gone, than my uncle began to talk with Mr Deane on the subject that is nearest all our hearts. I was afraid the conversation would not be managed to my liking; and having too just an excuse to ask leave to withdraw, from bad, or rather no, rest, last night, I made use of it; and here in my closet (preparing now, however, for it) am I, Your ever-affectionate

My good Mr Selby, said my grandmamma, you now blame without reason. Sir Charles was full hasty. Harriet was a little more nice, perhaps, her lover considered, than she needed to be. Yet I don't know, but I, in her case, should have done as she did; and expected as much time as she was willing to take. It was not a very long one, Mr Selby, from the declaration he made; and he is a man himself of great delicacy. Harriet very readily acknowledged to him the preference she gave him to all men; and when she found him very earnest for a short day, she, by her last letter, threw herself generously into his power. He is full of acknowledgments upon it; and so he ought to be. To me he has said all that a man should say of his gratitude, upon the occasion; and he declared to me last night, that it was with difficulty he forbore taking advantage of her goodness to him; but that he checked himself, and led to other subjects, seeing how much the dear creature was disordered, and being apprehensive, that if he had begun upon one so interesting, or even wished to talk with her alone, he should have increased her disorder.

Oy, oy! Sir Charles is considerate; and Harriet should be grateful; but, indeed, my Dame Selby is as silly, to the full, as Harriet. She is for having Harriet keep her in countenance in the dance she led me, so many years ago-Lady G- for my money. She finds you all out in

your masonry.

Mr Selby, said my aunt, I only refer myself to what our venerable parent just now said.

And so don't think it worth while to hold an argument with me, I suppose?

I did not know, my dear, that you wanted to hold an argument.

Your servant, madam-with that sly leerSo like Harriet! and Harriet so like you!

But, Mr Selby, said my grandmamma, will you be pleased to tell the dear child, if you think her wrong, what is the next step she should take?

Think her wrong!-Next step!-Why the next step is, as she has promised to oblige him, and to be directed by him, to keep her word, and not hum nor haw about the matter.

Mr Deane, who had been shewn and told every thing that had passed since we saw him last, said, You don't know, Mr Selby, that my daughter Byron will make unnecessary parade. Sir Charles you find, in tenderness to her, asked no question yesterday; made no claim-She could not begin the subject.

But, said Lucy, I cannot but say that my cousin is in some fault.

Look you there now! said my uncle. We all stared at Lucy; for she spoke and looked very seriously.

Might she not have said, proceeded she, when Sir Charles surprised her at his first arrival, what though her heart was divided between

past terror and present joy?) Here I am, sir, at your service; are you prepared for to-morrow? And then made him one of her best curt

seys.

Sauce-box!-Well, well, I believe I have been a little hasty in my judgment; (rapping under the table with his knuckles ;) but I am so afraid that something will happen between the cup and the lip-Here, last night, I dreamt that Lady Clementina and he were going to be married-Give me your hand, my dear Harriet, and don't revoke the kindness in your last letter to him, but whatever be the day he proposes, comply, and you will win my heart for ever.

As Sir Charles leads, Harriet must follow, resumed my grandmamma. You men are sad prescribers in these delicate cases, Mr Selby.— You will be put to it, my dear love, taking my hand, before this day is over, now you seem so purely recovered. Sir Charles Grandison is not a dreaming lover. Prepare your mind, my child; you'll be put to it, I do assure you.

Why, oy; I can't but say, Sir Charles is a man-Don't you, my lovely love, be too much a woman!-Too close a copier of your Aunt Selby here—and, as I said, you will have my heart for ever-Oy, and Sir Charles's too; for he is not one of your sorry fellows, that can't distinguish between a favour and a folly.

My uncle then went out with a flourish, and took Mr Deane with him; leaving only my grandmamma, my aunt, my Lucy, and your Harriet, together.

We had a good deal of talk upon the important subject. The conclusion was, that I would refer Sir Charles to my grandmamma, if he were urgent for the day, and she was vested with a discretionary power to determine for her girl.

Such of my clothes, then, as were near finished, were ordered to be produced, with some of the ornaments. They were all to sit in judgment upon them.

Surely, Lady G, these are solemn circumstances, lightly as my uncle thinks of them. Must not every thoughtful young creature, on so great a change, and for life, have conflicts in her mind, be her prospects ever so happy, as the day approaches? Of what materials must the hearts of runaways, and of fugitives, to men half-strangers to them, be compounded?

My aunt has just left with me the following billet, from Sir Charles, directed to my uncle, from Mr Greville's:—

DEAR MR SELBY,

I REGRET every moment that I pass out of Selby-House, or Shirley-Manor; and as I have so few particular friends in these parts out of your family, I think I ought to account to you for the hours I do; nor will I, now our friendship is so unalterably fixed and acknowledged,

apologize for giving myself, by this means, the consequence with your family, that every one of yours, for their single sakes, are of to me, superadded to the tenderest attachments to one dear person of it.

I found the gentleman in a less happy dis position than I expected.

It is with inexpressible reluctance that he thinks, as my happy day draws near, of giving up all hopes of an object so dear to him. He seemed strangely balancing on this subject, when I was introduced to him. He instantly proposed to me, and with some fierceness, that I would suspend all thoughts of marriage for two months to come, or at least for one. I received his request with proper indignation. He pretended to give reasons respecting himself; I allowed not of them.

After some canvassings, he swore, that he would be complied with in something. His alternative was, my dining with him, and with some of his chosen friends, whom he had invited.

I have reason to think these friends are those to whom he expressed himself with violence at the George, as overheard, I suppose, by the waiter there.

He rode out, he owned yesterday morning, with intent to meet me; for he boasts that he knows all my motions, and those of a certain beloved young lady. Let him, let everybody, who thinks it their concern to watch our steps, be made acquainted with them: the honest heart aims not at secrets. I should glory in receiving Miss Byron's hand, from yours, sir, before ten thousand witnesses.

Mr Greville had rode out the night before; he did not say to meet me ; but he knew I was expected at Selby-House, either on Monday night, or yesterday morning; and on his return, not meeting me, he and his friends passed their night at the George, as mentioned, and rode out together in the morning-In hopes of meeting me, he said; and to engage me to suspend my happy day. Poor man! Had he been in his right mind, he could not have hoped (had he met me on the road) to have been heard on such a subject.

An act of oblivion, and thorough reconciliation, he calls it, is to pass, in presence of his expected friends.

You will not take notice of what I have hinted at, out of the family, whatever was designed.

In the temper he would have found me in, had he met me, no harm could have happened; for he is really to be pitied.

We are now perfect friends. He is full of good wishes. He talks of a visit to Lady Frampton, of a month. I write thus particularly, that I may not allow such a subject as this to interfere with that delightful one which engrosses my whole attention; and which I hope, in the

evening, will be honoured with the attention of the beloved and admired of every heart, as well as that of Your ever obliged and affectionate CH. GRANDISON.

POOR wicked Greville !-May he go to Lady Frampton's, or wherever else, so it be fifty miles distant from us. I shall be afraid of him, till I hear he has quitted, for a time, his seat in this neighbourhood.

What a glorious quality is courage, when it is divested of rashness! When it is founded on integrity of heart, and innocence of life and manners! But, otherwise founded, is it not rather to be called savageness and brutality?

How much trouble have I given your brother! What dangers have I involved him in! It cannot be possible for me ever to reward him.But the proudest heart may deem it a glory to owe obligation to Sir Charles Grandison.

LETTER CCXLVI.

MISS BYRON.

[In continuation.]

Wednesday Night, Nov. 8. SIR CHARLES broke away, and came hither by our tea-time. I was in my closet, writing. They all crowded about him. He avoided particulars: only said, that all was friendship between Mr Greville and himself; and that Mr Greville came with him part of the way; full of his resumed scheme, of appearing to be upon a good understanding with him, and a friend to the alliance between him and us.

Sir Charles looked about him, as if for somebody he saw not. My aunt came up to me: My dear, do you know who is come? She then gave me the above particulars. We had a summons to tea. We hastened down. He met us both at the parlour-door. O madam, said he, what precious hours have I lost!—I have been patience itself!

I congratulated him on what my aunt had told me. I found he intended, as he says in his billet, that the particulars he gave in it should answer our curiosity; and to have done with the subject. What a charming possession of himself, that he could be in such a brangle, as I may call it, and which might have had fatal consequences; yet be so wholly, and so soon, divested of the subject; and so infinitely agreeable upon half a score others, as they offered from one or other as we sat at tea!

Tea was no sooner over but he singled me out-May I, madam, beg the favour of an halfhour's audience?