-Are fit to be a judge between us-You shall be mine, if ever the debate be brought on.

No consideration, in that case, shall bias me! -But may I not hope, that the dear lady I stand before, will permit me to behold a person, whose mind I ever revered?

Laura, said she, let the tea be got ready: I have been taught to drink tea, sir, since my arrival. The gentlewoman of the house is very obliging. Permit me, sir, to withdraw for a few

moments.

She sighed as she went out, leaning upon Laura.

Laura returned soon after with lights. She set them on the table; and giving way to a violent emotion, O Milord Grandison! said the poor girl, falling down, and embracing my knees; for the blessed Virgin's sake, prevail on my lady to return to dear, dear Bologna!

Have patience, Laura: all will be well. I, the unhappy Laura, shall be the sacrifice. The General will kill me!-O that I had never accompanied my lady in this expedition !

Have patience, Laura! If you have behaved well to your lady, I will take you into my protection. Had you a good voyage? Was the master of the vessel, were his officers, obliging?

They were, sir; or neither my lady nor I should have been now living. O sir! we were in a dying way all the voyage; except the three last days of it. The master was the civillest of

men.

I asked after her fellow-servant, naming him from Jeronymo's letters. Gone out, was the answer, to buy some necessaries! O sir, we live a sad life! Strangers to the language, to the customs of the country, all our dependence is upon this young man.

I asked her after the behaviour and character of the people of the house, (a widow and her three daughters,) that, if I heard but an indifferent account of them, I might enforce by it my intended plea to get her to Lady L-'s. Laura spoke well of them. The captain of the vessel, who brought them over, is related to them, and recommended them, when he knew what part of the town her lady chose.

What risks did the poor lady run! such different people as she had to deal with, in the contrivance and prosecution of her wild scheme; yet all to prove honest; how happy! Poor lady! how ready was she to fly from what she appre

hended to be the nearest evil! But she could not be in a capacity to weigh the dangers to which she exposed herself.

Often and often, said Laura, have I, on my knees, besought my lady to write to you. But she was not always well enough to resolve what to do; and when she was sedate, she would plead, that she was afraid to see you; you would

her as a rash creature: and she could not bear your displeasure: she was conscious that the act she had done, bore a rash, and even romantic, appearance: had you been in town, Antony should have made inquiries at distance, and she might have yielded to see you: but for several days her thoughts were not enough composed to write to you. At last, being impatient to hear of the health of her father and mother, she did write.

Why stays she so long from me, Laura? Attend your lady, and tell her, that I beg the honour of her presence.

Laura went to her. Her lady presented herself with an air of bashful dignity: I met her at her entrance-My sister, my friend, my dearest Lady Clementina, kissing her hand, welcome, welcome, I repeat, to England. Behold your fourth brother, your protector: honour me with your confidence: acknowledge my protection. Your honour, your happiness, is dear to me as my life.

I led her, trembling, sighing, but at the moment speechless, to a seat; and sat down by her, holding both her hands in mine: She struggled for speech: Compose yourself, madam: assure yourself of my tenderest regard, of my truest brotherly affection.

Generous Grandison! Can you forgive me? Can you from your heart bid me welcome? I will endeavour to compose myself. You told me I was conscious: conscious indeed I am the step I have taken has a disgraceful appearance: but yet will I not condemn, nor consent that you should, my motive.

I condemn not your motive, madam. All will, all must, be happy! Rely on my brotherly advice and protection. My sisters, and their lords, every one I love, admires you. You are come to families of lovers, who will think themselves honoured by your confidence.

You pour balm into the wounds of my mind. What is woman when difficulties surround her! When it was too late, and the ship that I embarked in was under sail, then began my terror: that took away from me all power of countermanding the orders I had given; till the winds, that favoured my voyage, opposed my return. Then was I afraid to trust myself with my own reflections, lest, if I gave way to them, my former malady should find me out. But let me not make you unhappy. Yet permit me to observe, that when you mentioned the kind reception I might expect to meet with among your friends, you forbore to mention the principal personWhat will SHE think of the poor Clementina? But be assured, and assure her, that I would not have set my foot on the English shore, had you not been married. O chevalier ! if I make you and her unhappy, no creature on earth can hate me, so much as I shall hate myself.

Generous, noble Clementina! your happiness

vants, as they crossed the way; and stood out on the pavement, that I might see her. When she found she had caught my eye, she ran into the house, wringing her clasped hands-God be praised! God be praised! were her words, as I followed her in, in her own language. Laura can speak no other. Shew me, shew me to your lady, good Laura! said I, with emotion.

She ran up one pair of stairs before me. She entered the dining-room, as it is called. I stopt at the stairs' head till I had Clementina's commands. Laura soon came out. She held open the door for me, curtseying in silence.

The drawn window-curtains darkened the room: but the dignity of Clementina's air and motion left me not in doubt. She stood up, supporting herself on the back of an elbow chair. Taking the trembling hand: Welcome, thrice welcome to England, dearest Lady Clementina! I pressed her hand with my lips; and seated her; for she trembled; she sobbed; she endeavoured to speak, but could not for some mo

ments.

I called to Laura, fearing she was fainting. O that well-known voice! said she. And do you, can you, bid me welcome?-Me, a fugitive, an ingrate, undutiful!-O chevalier, lower not your unsullied character, by approving so unnatural a step as that which I have taken!

I do bid you welcome, madam! Your brother, your friend, from his soul, welcomes you to England.

Let me know, chevalier, before another word passes, whether I have a father, whether I have a mother?

Blessed be God; madam, you have both.

She lifted up her clasped hands: Thank God! God, I thank thee! Distraction would have been my portion, if I had not! I was afraid to ask after them. I should have thought myself the most detestable of parricides, if either of them had been no more.

They are in the utmost distress for your safety. They will think themselves happy, when they know you are well, and in the protection of your brother Grandison.

Will they, sir? O what a paradox! They so indulgent, yet so cruel-I so dutiful, yet a fugitive! But tell me, sir; determined as I was against entering into a state I too much honour to enter into it with a reluctant heart, could I take any other step than that I have taken, to free myself from the cruelty of persuasion? O that I might have been permitted to take the veil!-But answer my question, chevalier.

Surely, madam, they would not have compelled you. They always declared to me they would not.

Not compelled me, sir! Did not my father kneel to me? My mother's eyes spoke more than her lips could have uttered. The Bishop had influenced good Father Marescotti (against the interests of religion, I had almost said) to op

pose the wish of my heart. Jeronymo, your Jeronymo, gave into their measures: What refuge had I-Our Giacomo was inexorable. I was to be met, on my return from Florence to Bologna, by the Count of Belvedere, and all those of his house; the General was to be in his company: I had secret intelligence of all this: and I was to be received as an actual bride at Bologna, or made to promise I would be so within a few days after my arrival. My sister-inlaw, my only advocate among my Italian friends, pitied me, it is true: but, for that reason, she was not to be allowed to come to Bologna. I was at other times denied to go to Urbino, to Rome, to Naples-Could I do otherwise than I have done, if I would avoid profaning a sacrament?

My dearest sister Clementina sometimes accuses herself of rashness, for taking a step so ex'traordinary. At this moment, does she not receive her brother in darkness? Whence this sweet consciousness? But what is done, is done. Your conscience is a law to you. If that accuse you, you will repent: if it acquit you, who shall condemn? Let us look forward, madam. I approve not of the vehemence of your friends' persuasions. Yet what parents ever meant a child more indulgence; what brothers, a sister more disinterested affection?

me.

I own, sir, that my heart at times misgives But answer me this: Are you of opinion I ought, at the instance of my parents and brothers, however affectionate, however indulgent in all other instances, to marry against inclination, against justice, against conscience?

Against any one of these you ought not. Well, sir, then I will endeavour to make myself easy as to this article. But will you undertake, sir, (a woman wants a protector,) to maintain this argument for me?

I will, madam: and shall hope for the more success, if you will promise to lay aside all thoughts of the veil.

Ah, chevalier!

Will my dearest sister answer me one question: Is it not your hope, that, by resisting their wishes, you may tire out opposition, and at last bring your friends to consent to a measure to which they have always been extremely averse? Ah, chevalier!-But if I could get them to

consent

Dear madam! is not their reasoning the same -If they could get you to consent? Ah, chevalier!

May not this be a contention for months, for years? And—

I know, sir, your inference: You think that in a contention between parents and child, the child should yield. Is not that your inference?

Not against reason, against justice, against conscience. But there may be cases, in which neither ought to be their own judge.

Well, sir, you that have yielded to a plea of

-Are fit to be a judge between us-You shall be mine, if ever the debate be brought on.

No consideration, in that case, shall bias me! -But may I not hope, that the dear lady I stand before, will permit me to behold a person, whose mind I ever revered?

Laura, said she, let the tea be got ready: have been taught to drink tea, sir, since my arrival. The gentlewoman of the house is very obliging. Permit me, sir, to withdraw for a few

moments.

She sighed as she went out, leaning upon Laura.

Laura returned soon after with lights. She set them on the table; and giving way to a violent emotion, O Milord Grandison! said the poor girl, falling down, and embracing my knees; for the blessed Virgin's sake, prevail on my lady to return to dear, dear Bologna!

Have patience, Laura: all will be well.

I, the unhappy Laura, shall be the sacrifice. The General will kill me!-O that I had never accompanied my lady in this expedition!

Have patience, Laura! If you have behaved well to your lady, I will take you into my protection. Had you a good voyage? Was the master of the vessel, were his officers, obliging?

They were, sir; or neither my lady nor I should have been now living. O sir! we were in a dying way all the voyage; except the three last days of it. The master was the civillest of

men.

I asked after her fellow-servant, naming him from Jeronymo's letters. Gone out, was the answer, to buy some necessaries! O sir, we live a sad life! Strangers to the language, to the customs of the country, all our dependence is upon this young man.

I asked her after the behaviour and character of the people of the house, (a widow and her three daughters,) that, if I heard but an indifferent account of them, I might enforce by it my intended plea to get her to Lady L-'s. Laura spoke well of them. The captain of the vessel, who brought them over, is related to them, and recommended them, when he knew what part of the town her lady chose.

What risks did the poor lady run! such different people as she had to deal with, in the contrivance and prosecution of her wild scheme; yet all to prove honest; how happy! Poor lady! how ready was she to fly from what she appre

hended to be the nearest evil! But she could not be in a capacity to weigh the dangers to which she exposed herself.

Often and often, said Laura, have I, on my knees, besought my lady to write to you. But she was not always well enough to resolve what to do; and when she was sedate, she would plead, that she was afraid to see you; you would

Why stays she so long from me, Laura? Attend your lady, and tell her, that I beg the honour of her presence.

Laura went to her. Her lady presented herself with an air of bashful dignity: I met her at her entrance-My sister, my friend, my dearest Lady Clementina, kissing her hand, welcome, welcome, I repeat, to England. Behold your fourth brother, your protector: honour me with your confidence: acknowledge my protection. Your honour, your happiness, is dear to me as my life.

I led her, trembling, sighing, but at the moment speechless, to a seat; and sat down by her, holding both her hands in mine: She struggled for speech: Compose yourself, madam: assure yourself of my tenderest regard, of my truest brotherly affection.

Generous Grandison! Can you forgive me? Can you from your heart bid me welcome? I will endeavour to compose myself. You told me I was conscious: conscious indeed I am the step I have taken has a disgraceful appearance: but yet will I not condemn, nor consent that you should, my motive.

I condemn not your motive, madam. All will, all must, be happy! Rely on my brotherly advice and protection. My sisters, and their lords, every one I love, admires you. You are come to families of lovers, who will think themselves honoured by your confidence.

You pour balm into the wounds of my mind. What is woman when difficulties surround her! When it was too late, and the ship that I embarked in was under sail, then began my terror: that took away from me all power of countermanding the orders I had given; till the winds, that favoured my voyage, opposed my return. Then was I afraid to trust myself with my own reflections, lest, if I gave way to them, my former malady should find me out. But let me not make you unhappy. Yet permit me to observe, that when you mentioned the kind reception I might expect to meet with among your friends, you forbore to mention the principal personWhat will SHE think of the poor Clementina? But be assured, and assure her, that I would not have set my foot on the English shore, had you not been married. O chevalier! if I make you and her unhappy, no creature on earth can hate me, so much as I shall hate myself.

Generous, noble Clementina! your happiness

is indeed essential to that of us both. My Harriet is another Clementina! You are another Harriet! Sister-excellencies, I have called you to her, to all her relations. In the letter you favoured me with, you wished to know her: you must know her; and I ain sure you will love her. Your wishes that she would accept of my vows, were motives with her to make me happy. She knows our whole history. She is prepared to receive you as the dearest of her sisters. 'Generous Lady Grandison! I have heard her character. I congratulate you, sir. You have reason to think, that I should have been grieved, had you not met with a woman who deserved you. To know you are happy in a wife, and think yourself so, that no blame lies upon me for declining your addresses, will contribute more than I can express, to my peace of mind. When I have more courage, and my heart is cased of some part of its anguish, you shall present me to her. Tell her, meantime, that I will love her; and that I shall hold myself everlastingly bound to her in gratitude, for making happy the man, whom once, but for a superior motive, I had the vanity to think I could have made so.

She turned away her glowing face, tears on her cheek. My admiration of her greatness of mind, so similar to that of my own Harriet, would not allow me to pour out my heart in words. I rose; and taking both her hands, bowed upon them. Tears more plentifully flowed from her averted eyes; and we were both for one moment speechless.

It would be injurious to a mind equally great and noble as that which informs the person of this your sister-excellence, to offer to apologize for faithfully relating to you those tender emotions of hearts, one of them not less pure than my Harriet's; the other all your own.

I broke silence, and urged her to accept of apartments at Lady L- 's. Let me acquaint the gentlewoman of the house, I beseech you, madam, that to-morrow morning the sister Í have named, and I, will attend you to her house. We will thank her for you, as you have almost forgotten your English, for the civilities which she and her daughters have shewn you; and I will make it my business to find out the honest captain, who, Laura tells me, has been very civil to you also, and thank him too in the names of all our common friends, for his care of you.

I will think myself honoured, now you have encouraged me to look up, by a visit from either or both your sisters. But let me advise with you, sir: Is the kind offer you make me, a proper of fer for me to accept of? I shall be ready to take your advice-Little regard as I may seem, by the step I have taken, to have had for my own honour; I would avoid, if possible, suffering a first error to draw me into a second. Do you, sir, as my brother and friend, take care of that honour, in every step you shall advise me to take.

Your honour, madam, shall be my first care. I sincerely think this is the rightest measure you can now pursue.

Now pursue!-sighing.

This argument admitted of a short debate. She was scrupulous from motives too narrow for a Clementina to mention. I made her blush for mentioning them; and, in a word, had the happiness to convince her, that the protection of the sister of her fourth brother was the most proper she could choose.

I went down, and talked to the gentlewomen below.

I requested them to make my compliments to Captain Henderson, and desire him to give me an opportunity to thank him in person for his civility to a lady beloved by all who have the honour of knowing her.

I went up again to the lady; and sat with her most of the evening, Laura only attending us.

I talked to Clementina of Mrs Beaumont, and the ladies of Florence; and intimated, that her mother had prevailed on that lady to come to England, in hopes, as she is an Englishwoman, that her company would be highly acceptable to her. She blessed her mother. What an instance of forgiving goodness was this! she said, with tears of gratitude; and blessed Mrs Beaumont for her goodness to her; and the ladies at Florence for parting with one so dear to them.

I was happy throughout this latter conversation in her serenity; not one instance of wandering did I observe.

I chose not, however, so early, to acquaint her with the intention of the dearest and nearest of her friends, to come over with Mrs Beaumont ; though I expressed my earnest hope, that if we could make England agrecable to her, I should have the honour of the promised visit from some of the principals of her family, before she left it.

This, my dearest life! is a minute account of our interview. One of the greatest pleasures I can know, is to obey the gentle, the generous commands of my Harriet.

to

This morning I attended Lady L breakfast with the excellent lady, as proposed. My sister and her lord are charmed with their guest: Their guest she is: And Lady Clementina is as much pleased with them. She is every hour more and more sensible of the dangers she has run; and censures herself very freely for the rash step, as she calls it herself.

She longs, yet is ashamed to see you, my dearest life! and listens with delight to the praises my Lord and Lady L― so justly give to my Harriet.

Monday Afternoon.

I HAVE introduced Lord and Lady G— to Lady Clementina, at her own request; being assured, she said, that the place of her refuge

would be kept secret by all my friends. Both sisters occasionally joining in praising my angel: How happy, said she, are those marriages which give as much joy to the relations on both sides as to the parties themselves!

Adieu! my dearest love! With the tenderest affection I am, and ever will be,

Your most faithful and obliged

CH. GRANDISON.

his Grandison !-But, good young man! Can it be, that he is really in love with such a girl as to years?

This I dare say; Beauchamp's principal regard cannot be to her fortune: His estate is unencumbered. I should think myself, as well as Emily, happy, and that I had performed all my duty by her, were I to marry her to such a man. But, methinks I want him to be sooner married, than I could wish my Emily to be a wife. I think you told me, that Emily at present has no thoughts of him-But you, my dear, must ad

vise me.

LETTER CCLXXXV.

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

Thursday, Feb. 22. We are as happy here, as we can expect to be; Lady Clementina in her state of suspense and apprehension; I without my Harriet.

You hinted to me once, my love, something of our Beauchamp's regard for Emily. He just now, after more hesitations than I expected from my friend, opened his heart to me, and asked me to countenance his addresses to her. I chid

him for his hesitation-and then said, Is my Beauchamp in his proposition so right as he generally is?-Emily, though tall and womanly, is very young. I am not a friend to very early marriages. You know as well as any man, my dear friend, the reasons that may be urged against such. Methinks I would give Emily an opportunity, as well for her husband's sake, whoever shall be the man, as for her own, to look round her, and make her own choice. The merit of Sir Edward Beauchamp, his personal accomplishments, and character, to say nothing of his now ample fortune, must make his addresses to any woman acceptable. You would not, I presume, think of marrying her, if you might, till she is eighteen or twenty: And would my Beauchamp fetter himself, by engagements to a girl; and leave her, who at present can hardly give him the preference he deserves, no chance of choosing for herself when at woman's estate?

He waved the discourse; and left me without resuming it. I am grieved, on recollection; for I am afraid he is not satisfied with me, for what I said.

My dearest life, you must advise me. I will not take any important step, whether relative to myself or friends, but by your advice, and, if you please, Dr Bartlett's. Whenever heretofore I have had time to take that good man's, I have been sure of the ground I stood upon. His has been of infinite service to me, as you have heard me often acknowledge. Yours and his will establish my judgment in every case : But in this of Emily's, yours, my dear, for obvious reasons, must prefer even to his. In the meantime I will seek Beauchamp. He shall not be angry with

I

Thursday Afternoon.

SIR EDWARD has just left me. He hoped I would excuse him, he said, for having mentioned the above subject to me: It is at present in your power Sir Charles, said he, to silence me upon it for ever. It might not have been so some time hence. I thought, therefore, on examining the state of my heart, it was but honourable to open it to you. Forbid me this moment to think of her, and I will endeavour to obey her guardian.

My dear friend! You know Emily's ageWould you willingly-I stopt that he might speak.

Stay for her? I would, Sir Charles, till you and she-He paused-Then resuming: My love for her is not an interested love. I would, if I might have your permission to make my addresses to her, (and that should be by honest assiduities, before declaration,) be wholly determined by your advice for the good of both. I would make your conduct to Lady Clementina, when you last went over, my pattern. I would be bound, she should be free. I never would be so mean as to endeavour to engage her by promises to me. My pride will set her free, whenever I perceive she balances in favour of another

man.

But what, my excellent friend, shall we do? Can you condescend to court two women, Emily so young, for her distant consent?

What means Sir Charles Grandison?

I will read to you, without reserve, what I had just written to my Harriet, on this topic; reciting to her what passed in the conversation between you and me, a little while ago.

I read to him accordingly what I wrote to you. He heard me with great attention, not interrupting me once, (nor did I interrupt myself; no, not by apologies for the freedom of my thoughts on the subject.) And when I had done, he wrung my hand, and thanked me for my unreservedness, in terms worthy of our mutual friendship.

You see, my dear Sir Edward, said I, how I am circumstanced: What I have promised to my wife, is a law to me, prudence and afterevents not controlling. She loves Emily: She