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 VIRTUE AND VICE 
 
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 Faithfully abridged, fo as to contain all the Spirit 
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 The Whole forming a Complete Library of 
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 VOL. IV. 
 
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 Printed for J.French, No. 28, in the Poultry, 
 

 ■I 9 *m 
 
 THE 
 
 H 1 S T O R y 
 
 O F 
 
 Sir CHARLES GRANDISON. 
 
 THIS novel was written hy the late celebrateJ 
 and truly amiable Mr. Samuel Richardfon, 
 and is as ftriking an original as ever yet was pre- 
 fented to the public. The principal chara6^er is, 
 that of Sir Charles, and in him we meet with a 
 young gentleman fnrrounded by a thoufand temp- 
 tations, but at the fame time adhering to his duty 
 as a man and a chriftian. Beauty could not tempt 
 him to feduce, nor could the greateft, the mofl 
 affluent fortune make him marry the woman who 
 was not the obje61: of his affections. Nay, fo 
 much was he attached to the proteftant religion 
 as by law eftablifhed in England, that he would 
 not turn papift to marry a rich Italian lady, nor 
 would he fuffer her to abjure her religion merely 
 for the fake of a hulband. The whole work 
 B contaias 
 
( 2 ) 
 
 contains the moft inlarged fentiments of virtue 
 and benevolence, and happy indeed will thofe 
 yoiiih be, who copy after the example of Sir 
 Charles Grandifon. 
 
 Sir Charles Grandison was the fon of a. 
 gentleman, who died poflefled of an eftate of 
 ^ight thoufand pounds a year, and his lady was 
 >one of the moft amiable of her fex. 
 
 Sir Thomas, the father of Sir Charles, had for 
 many years been much addicted to horfe- racing, 
 from whicJ.i his lady had in vain endeavoured to 
 reclaim him, but fhe took care to keep fo much 
 hofpitality in her feoufe, that fhe was beloved and 
 -admired by all the poor who lived in the neigh- 
 bourhood. Sir Thomas, as a man of real gaiety, 
 took no notice of his daughters, but fpcnt his 
 leifure hours in teaching his fon the art of fight- 
 ing with the f/nall fword^ of which he foon be- 
 came a great proficient. 
 
 It was at an eaily period of life that Sir Charles 
 lofl his amiable mother, for one evening Sir 
 Thomas having been brought home wounded, in 
 confequence of fighting a duel, his lady fell into 
 iits, which put an end to her valuable life. A 
 jittle before her death, flie was fo fenfiblc, that 
 {he fent for her fon, and he coming to her bed 
 fide, {he recommended to him the care of his 
 fillers. The pious youth held herdyinghandinhis, 
 and embracing it in the moft tender manner, told 
 her, her injunctions to him now ftie was ftepping 
 into eternity, fliould be the rule of his conducSf as 
 Jong as he lived, She theji expired, holding his 
 
 han« 
 
r 3 ) 
 
 hand in hers, fmcerely lamented by all thofe 
 who had ever known her. 
 
 Sir Thomas was much afFe6ted for the lofs of 
 his worthy lady, and the rather, when he con- 
 fidered that his own imprudent condu6l, had in 
 a great meafure haftened it, Mr. Grandifon, who 
 loved his mother tenderly, gave himfelf up to 
 melancholy, which fo much alarmed his father, 
 that he was prevailed on to fend him abroad to 
 make the tour of Europe, under the dire6tion of 
 a tutor, who had been recommended by a general, 
 who was uncle to the young gentleman. This 
 tutor, it feems, was one of thofe abandoned 
 mifcreants, who under pretence of directing the 
 lludieS of young gentlemen, adlualiy lead them 
 into every fcene of debauchery ; but Grandifon 
 efcaped all the fnares that he laid for him. The 
 truth is, he was obliged while at Paris, to become 
 his own tutor, or in other words to take care 
 of himfelf, for he found that his governor did not 
 pay the leafl regard to the mod facred of all moral 
 obligations, fo that on many different occafions 
 the young gentleman was obliged to remonilrate 
 to him on the great impropriety of his conduct, 
 in a(£ting fo inconfiftent with the nature of his 
 profelTion. 
 
 At Turin our adventurer became acquainted 
 with one Dr. Bartlet, who was then governor to ' 
 a young gentleman whofe name vv^as Lorimer, 
 and this young 'fquire was of fuch abandoned 
 principles, that he and Mr. Crewker, the tutor 
 of Grandifon, foon became intimately acquaint- 
 ed, in that city they played fo many roguiili 
 tricks, while Dr. Bartlet and Grandifon were 
 enlarging their minds with real knowledge, fothat. 
 B 2 Crewkei 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 Crewker was obliged to decamp, left he fhould 
 have been fent on a feven years voy.igc to the 
 galiies. Having arrived faf'ely at Rome, Crewker 
 fent a letter to Grandifon, defiring him to meet 
 him in that city, but the young gcnileman, who 
 had long beheld his conduft with concern, was 
 determined not to be trifled with any longer, and 
 therefore wrote an account of his whole conduct 
 to his father. 
 
 In anfwer to this letter, his father left him at 
 liberty to do as he pleafed, qbierving at the fame 
 time, that he was fo well convinced of his 
 prudence, that he doubted noc but he would be 
 able either to make a proper choice of a governor, 
 or to acl with fuch prudence as not to be in want 
 of one. 
 
 Upon the receipt of that letter, young Gran- 
 difon went to wait on his good friend, Dr, Bart- 
 let, but as he could not with propriety afk him 
 to forfake the ftation that had been affigned him, 
 they both entered into a treaty of mutual friend- 
 ship, which was only to end with the life of one 
 of them. 
 
 While Lorimer was paffing through fome of the 
 capital towns in Lombardy, Grandiibn made the 
 greateft part of the tour of Europe, and wrote 
 down fuch pertinent remarks on the laws, man- 
 ners, and cuftoms of the people, as convinced 
 every one that he had a very found judgment, and. 
 that he had not hitherto fpent his time in vain. 
 Indeed Lorimer learned nothing, his whole lime 
 was fpent in idlenefs, and attending the public 
 diverfions, which was fo offenfive to the docSlor, 
 his worthy tutor, that he wifhed he had jiever 
 undertaken to accompany him» 
 
 The 
 
( 5 ) 
 
 The docror put up with all thefe extravnganciea 
 as he could not bring his pupil to a fcnle of 
 reafon, and in the mean time the young gentle- 
 man gave him the flip, and fet out to be prefene 
 at the carnival at Venice. It vi^as fome time 
 before the doctor could learn which way he had 
 gone, but upon mature deliberation, he received 
 intelligence, that he was gone to Venice, and 
 therefore he fet out to mee; him in that celebrated 
 city. When he came there, he found that Mr, 
 Lorimer had launched out into all forts of 
 fafhionabie follies, and what v/as ftill worfe, he 
 had committed feveral violences on fome of the 
 people. In vain did Dr. Bartlet fet before his 
 pupil the character and conduct of Grandifon, for 
 he paid no regard to theni any farther than to 
 Copy one of hi.*^ letters, which he fent to his 
 father as his own, not doubting but he would 
 thereby be brought to imagine that he had ac- 
 quired confiderable knowledge abroad. The 
 doctor was a good deal furprifed when he received 
 an anfwer from the father of the young gentle- 
 man, mentioning the contents of the letter, and 
 having taken the young gentleman to task, he 
 freely confefled the whole, which furprifed^the 
 doctor fo much, that he looked upon him as one 
 of the meancft wretches he had ever known. 
 
 The freedom which the worthy doctor ufed 
 with his pupil, was far from having the defired 
 effect, for inftead of taking his advice, he got 
 into company with a courtezan who had deceived 
 feveral travellers, and in conjuniStion with her 
 contrived a fcheme to impofe on the do6tor. Bad 
 connections lead to bad pradices, and they ge- 
 iverally end in the commiffion of fome notorious 
 B 3 crimes* 
 
( 6 J 
 
 crimes. From Venice they fet out for Athens, 
 Mr. Lorimer taking the vile woman along with 
 him, and much about the fame time Grandifon 
 arrived at the fame place, from a tour that he 
 had been making in the ifland of Candia. 
 
 At Athens Mr. Lorimer and his whore repre- 
 fented to the cadi, who is the Turkifli judge in 
 all civil caufes, that Dr. Bartlet was a perfon 
 who had contrived fome fchemes to overturn the 
 cihblifhed government, upon which he was taken 
 up and committed to prifon. This infamous 
 fcheme having been reduced to pracl:ice, Lori- 
 mer and his courtezan fetout for Venice, leaving 
 the doctor a prifoner in a dungeon, where there 
 was not one perfon to vifit him who could fpealc 
 either in the learned or in his own native lan- 
 guage. 
 
 VVhile he remained in that difconfolate con- 
 dition, one Mr. Beauchamp, a young gentle- 
 man, who had been acquainted with Mr. Gran- 
 difon in the ifland of Candia, happened to com« 
 to Athens a few days after Mr. Grandifon fet out 
 for Conftantinoplc, and upon his arrival there, 
 having heard. that an Engliili gentleman was in 
 prifon, he enquired into his characSter, and found 
 that he was the worthy do6tor Bartlet ; upon that 
 he difpatched a mefTcnger to Conflantinoplc to 
 Mr. Gr.mdifon, in order to lay the cale of the 
 worthy doctor before the Britilh refident at the 
 Pone. 
 
 Mr. Grandifon was not a little affected to hear 
 of the misfortune of the worthy doctor, and 
 therefore having applied to the Englifh as well as 
 the French rcfidenr, he procured an order for his 
 rcleaferaent, and left it ihould have mifcarried, he 
 
 fet 
 
( r ) 
 
 fet out with It for Athens, Fortunately for th^ 
 doctor he arrived there in time to fave his life, for 
 as 'a\\ his money was fpent, the cadi had ordered 
 thz^t rarher than he fiiould llarve, he would icnd- 
 a brace of janizaries to ftranole him. Mr. Lo- 
 i^imer, the father of the youno; gentleman, whoie 
 ftudies the dodor had been appointed to fuperin*- 
 tend, never imagined that his Ton could have beerv 
 guiltv of fo bafe an adlion, nor did the doflor fup- 
 pofe it himfelf, as foon as he wss delivered 
 from confinement, he fet out for Venice, where 
 he found his pupil, who by that time was become^ 
 tired of the courtezan, and therefore he took that 
 opportunity of detaching him from her. 
 
 F>om Venice they fet out for Rome, but the 
 unhappy young gentlemvin ^<\ed in the fame 
 irregular manner as before, fo that in a hw 
 weeks he paid the debt of nature, by dying a, 
 violent death, a circumftance of the utmoft: 
 fervice to his family, and which had been long 
 forefeen by his worthy tutor^ Indeed had he 
 lived, he would have plunged his father inta 
 many misfortunes, and aithongh the old gentle- 
 man was for fome timeforry for his death, yet in 
 the end he found that inilead of being forry h^ 
 had reafon to rejoice. 
 
 It is true, he died what we commonly call a 
 fincere penitent, for he confelTed his faults, and 
 told the doctor, that were he to recover, hfe 
 would live a new life. It is certain, that nothing 
 in the world can be lefs depended on than a deat'a 
 bed repentance, for although repentance can 
 never come too late, yet the moff genuine is, that 
 which is attended with fincere obedience. Thefe: 
 B 4 were 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 werd the fentiments of the worthy do(*i:or, "wh© 
 in confequence of his untimely end, fell into A 
 violent fever, and was fome weeks before the 
 phyfician believed there was any hopes of his re- 
 covery. 
 
 In the mean time Mr. Grandifon, who had 
 vifited Egypt as well as feveral other parts of thfe 
 coafl, returned to Italy, and happening to call at 
 Rome, where he learned that Mr. Lorimer waB 
 dead, and that Dr. Bartlet, his worthy tutor, 
 was juft recovered from a dangerous fit oF 
 illnefs. 
 
 Mr. Beauchamp happened to be at that time ih 
 Rome, and as he' had not finiflied his tour, here- 
 commended the do6lor tohim as a tutor, a circum- 
 ftance that arofe purely from motives of humanity, 
 for Mr. Beauchamp had a ftep-mother who had 
 prevailed on his father to abridge his yearly allow- 
 ance, fo that he was reduced to no fmall diffi- 
 culty how to fupport the charadter of a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 It was with much difficulty that Mr. Beau- 
 champ could be prevailed upon to accept of a 
 gratuity, but Mr. Grandifon, who hated for- 
 malities, prevailed upon him, by reprefenting his 
 own difintereftednefs on the one hand, and the 
 ncceffities of his friend on the other. Thefe pre- 
 limiinaries being fettled, Grandifon fet out for 
 Leghorn, where he met with an Englifh gentle- 
 man in diftrejV, and lent him fome money on his 
 bond, but findinp; him much dejecfled in his 
 fpirits, he fent for him, and in his prefence burnt 
 the bond in the fire, telling him at the Hmie time 
 that he could not bear the thoughts of making 
 hini one moment unhappy. Indeed, Mr. Gran- 
 
 difoa 
 
( 9 r 
 
 dfifon took no pFeafure in any thing befides that of 
 -doing good, his heart burned with love to his 
 fellow creatures, and he confidered nothing as 
 his own, while one of his fellow creatures flood 
 in need of it. 
 
 Having done an a6lion that would have re- 
 fle61:ed honour on the moft dignified characSler in 
 human nature, he vifited every place worth notice 
 in Leghorn, and during the whole of his ftay 
 there, he conftantly attended divine fervice in the 
 chapel of the fa£lory ; for he was well convinced 
 in his own mind, that all learning and know- 
 ledge, let them be of ever fo extenfive a nature, 
 are no better than empty bubbles, unlefs fanc- 
 tified by the divine bleffing. 
 
 From Leghorn he fet out for Florence, where 
 he viuted the mufeum, and beheld the natural 
 ani artificial beauties in that celebrated repofitory 
 with admiration. The gaiety of the place, how- 
 ever, did not detach his mind from the practice 
 of virtue, for at all times, and in all places where- 
 cver he was, he ilill confidered himfelf as in the 
 immediate prcfence of the deity, and therefore he 
 was continually afraid to offend, left he fhould 
 h^ve incurred the difpleafure of his God, whofer 
 fervice he preferred to every thing elfe. 
 
 We mufl now introduce our adventurer into 
 the company of fome noble Italians, whofe names 
 were much refpedted in their own country, and 
 whofe adventures will make no fmall figure in this 
 work, therefore it is extremely proper the reader 
 ihould be acquainted with them. 
 
 Jn the neighbourhood of Bologna were two 
 
 noble families of the name of Porretta, who both 
 
 boafted their defcent from the ancient Romans, 
 
 B 5 ajad 
 
( 10 ) 
 
 nnd probably their pretenfions to To high -an 
 original, were r.ot ill founded. The one of thefe 
 noblemen was a marquis, and the other a count, 
 and the lady of the marquis was a woman mucli 
 elleemed throughout the fame province where flie 
 refided. They had three fons, the eldeit of 
 •whom was in the fcrvice of the king of Naples, 
 the fecond was a bifliop, and the third command- 
 ed a regiment in the fervice of the kingof Sardinia.. 
 The daughter was about eighteen and adorned 
 with all thofe accomplifhments that make female 
 charms irrefiftible, and was doated on both by 
 her father and mother, the latter of whom called 
 her her Clementina. Jeronymo, who had the 
 regiment under the king of Sardinia, had been 
 fome time at Rome, where he became acquainted 
 ■with Mr. Grandifon. He was a young nobleman 
 of fine parts, and had imbibed the fentiments of 
 the beft writers, both of ancient and modern 
 times. He was fufceptible of the warmeft im- 
 preffions of real friendfhip, and had a fweetnefs 
 ©f m.anncrs that is feldom found in one of his age, 
 but to his great misfortune he had contracted an 
 acquaintance with a fet of young profligate noble- 
 men, with whom he fpcnt the evenings in all 
 forts of debauchery, and at the fame time wanted 
 to introduce our hero to the faid company. 
 
 Mr. Grandifon, ever complaifant, went to 
 the pLice of meeting with his friend, and 
 finding the young nobleman dcftitutc of every 
 fpark. of moral virtue, he refolved to have no more 
 to do with them. He left nothing undone to 
 bring his friend ofF from fuch connections, but 
 finding that in a manner impofTible, he refrained 
 from viiiting him, left he himfelf fliguld be led 
 
 away 
 
( " 7 
 
 away by the fame contagious example. There 
 is a fort of glory that fhines around every thing 
 done by a virtuous perfon, and certain it is no 
 adtion in the whole life of Grand ifon, contributed 
 more towards making him (hare in the efteem of 
 every good man, than the part he took to reclaim 
 his friend. He had for feme time fetn. him on. 
 the brink of ruin, but his tendernefs for him was 
 the fame, and he refjjved, if poflible, to fave him 
 from impending deftru6tion. 
 
 He fpake to him feveral times in private in the 
 moil tender and affecStionate manner, but finding 
 he paid no regard to what he faidj he fent him: 
 the following letter : 
 
 To the BaRONE BELLA PoRR'ETTA. 
 
 WILL my Jeronymo allow his friend, hiir 
 Grandifon, the liberty he is going to take witb 
 him ? If the friendfliip he profelles for him be 
 fuch- a one, as a great mind can, on reflection,, 
 glory in, he will. And v/ha.t is this liberty, but 
 luch as conftitutes ihe efTence of true friendfhip ? 
 I am the rather encoura2;ed to trike it, as I have 
 often flattered myfelf, that I have {t&n my Jero- 
 nymo aiFefted by the arguments urged in the 
 courfe of the converfations that have been held 
 in our fele6l meetinos at Padua, and at Rome y 
 in v/hich the caufe of virtue and true honour has 
 been difcuflTed and pleaded. 
 
 I have now no hopes of infl'uencing any one of 
 the noble youths, whom, at your requefl,.] have 
 of late fo often met : but of you I have {[-ill- 
 hopes^ becaufe you continue to declare, ^hat yoa 
 
 pi efei- 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 prefer my friendfhip to theirs. You think that 
 I was dilgufted at the ridicule with which they 
 generally treated the arguments they could not 
 anfwer j but as far as I innocently could, I fol- 
 lowed them in their levity. I returned raillery 
 for ridicule, and not always, as you know, un- 
 fuccefsfiil ; but ftill they could not convince me, 
 nor I them. 
 
 I quit therefore, yet not without regret, the 
 fociety I cannot meet with pleafure ; but let not 
 my Jeronyhio renounce me. In his opinion I 
 had the honour to (land high before I was pre- 
 vailed upon to be introduced to them ; we cul- 
 tivated, with mutual pleafure, each others ac- 
 fljl^intance. Let us be to each other what we 
 ^Ke for the iirft month of our intimacy. You 
 have noble qualities ; but are diffident, and too 
 often fuffcr yourfelf to be influenced by men of 
 talents inferior to your oyvn. 
 
 The ridicule they have aimed at has weakened, 
 perhaps, the force of the arguments thatlwifhed 
 to have more than a temporary efFe6l on your 
 heart. Permit me to remind you on paper of 
 ibme of them, and urge to you others. 
 
 You have fhewcd me letters from your noble 
 father, from your mother, from the pious prelate 
 your brother, and others from your uncle, and 
 Oill, if poffible, moie admirable ones from your 
 filler — all filled with concern for your prefent and 
 future welfare ! How dearly is my Jeronymo be- 
 loved by his whole family ! And h w tenderly 
 d&cs he love them ! — What ought to be the refult ? 
 Jeronymo cannot be ungrateful. He knows fo 
 v/cll wiiat belongs to the charaderof a dutiful fon, 
 
 and 
 
t 13 ) 
 
 and an afFe(SI:ionate brother, that I will not 
 attempt to inforce their arguments upon him. 
 
 Mr. Jeronymo has pleaded, and juftJy may he 
 boaft of a difpofition to benevolence, charity, and 
 generofity ; but remember, my Lord, that true 
 goodnefs is an uniform thing, and will alike in- 
 fluence every part of a man's condu6l ; and that 
 true generofity will not be confined to obli- 
 gations, either written or verbal. 
 
 Befides, who, though in the leafl guilty in- 
 itance, and where fome falfe virtue may hold out 
 colours to palliate an excefs, can promifc himfelf 
 to flop, when once he has thrown the reins on 
 the neck of his lawlefs appetite ? And may I not 
 add, that my Jeronymo is not in his own power?" 
 He fufFers himfelf to be led I O that he would 
 choofe his company anew, and be a leader 1 Every 
 virtue then that warms his heart, would have 
 a fifter virtue to encourage the noble flame, in- 
 Itead of vice to damp it. 
 
 Juftly do you boafl of the nobility of youjr 
 defcent, of the excellency of every branch of your 
 family. Bear with my queftion, my Lord :' Are 
 you determined to fit down fatisfied with the ho- 
 nour of your anceftois ? Your progenitors, and 
 every one of your family, have given you reafon 
 to applaud their worth ; will you not give them 
 caufe to boaft of yours ? 
 
 Let us confider the obje(5l:s of your purfuit. 
 Are they women feduced from the path of virtue 
 by yourfeif — who otherwife, perhaps, would 
 have married, and made ufeful members of fo- 
 ciety ? Confider, my friend, what a capital crime 
 is a fedudtion of this kind ! Can you glory in the 
 viitue of a fifter of your own, and allow yourfeJf 
 
 in 
 
( 14 ) 
 
 in attempts upon the daughter, the fifter ©f ano- 
 ther ? And let me afk, How can that crime be 
 thought pardonable in a man, which renders a 
 woman infamous ? 
 
 Men, in the pride of their hearts, are apt to 
 fuppofe, that nature has defigned them to be fu- 
 perior to women. The higheit proof that can be 
 given of fuch fuperiority, is in the protection af- 
 forded by the ftronger to the weaker. What.caa 
 that man fay for himfelF, or his proud pretenfion,. 
 who employs all his art to feduce, betray, and ruin, 
 the creature whom he fhould guide and protedt ? 
 — Sedulous to fave her, perhaps, from every foe 
 but the devil and himfelf ! 
 
 Remember, my Jeronymo, that you are a man^. 
 a rational and moral agent, and a£l up to the 
 dignity of your nature, i^re there not, let me 
 afk, innocent delights enough to fill with joy 
 every vacant hour. Believe me, Jeronymo, there 
 are. Let you and me feek for fuch, and make 
 them the cement of our friendfnip. P.eligion out 
 of the queltion, conlider what morals, and good 
 policy will oblige you to do, as a man born to 
 act a part in public life. What (were the ex- 
 amples fet by you and your acquaintance to be 
 generally followed) would become of public order 
 and decorum r hov/ v^^iil a regular fucceflion in 
 families be kept up ? You, my Lord, boaft of 
 your defcent, and why will you deprive your 
 children of an advantage in, which you glory. . 
 
 Good children, what a hlelTing to their parents I 
 but what comfort can the parent have in children 
 born into the world the heirs of difgrace, and 
 who, owing their very bctng to profligate prin- 
 ciples, have no family honour to fupport, no fair 
 
 example 
 
{ 15 ) 
 
 sample to imitate, but muft be warned by their 
 father, when bitter experience has convinced him 
 of his errors, to avoid the paths in which he has 
 trod ? 
 
 How delightful the domeflic conne(Sl:ion ! to 
 bring to the paternal and fraternal dwellings, a 
 fiiWr, a daughter, that (hall be received there 
 with tender love 5 to ftrengthen your own in- 
 tereft in thew^orld by an alliance with fome noble 
 and worthy family, who fhall rejoice to truft to 
 the Barone della Porretta, the darling of their 
 hopes.— This would, to a generous heart, like 
 yours, be the fource of infinite delights. But 
 could you now think of introducing to the friends 
 you revere, the unhappy objedl of a vagrant 
 alFecliion ? Muft not my Jeronymo eftrange him- 
 felf from his home, to conceal from his father, 
 from his mother, from his fifter, perfons fhut out 
 by all the laws of honour from their fociety ? 
 
 But the prefent hour dances delightfully away, 
 and my friend will not look beyond it. His gay 
 companions applaud and compliment him on his 
 triumphs. In general, perhaps, he allows, that 
 welfare and order of fociety ought to be main- 
 tained by a fubmiflion to divine and human laws; 
 but his fingle exception for himfelf can be of no 
 importance. Of what then is general praftice 
 made up ? — If every one excepts himfelf, and 
 offends in the inftance that beft fuits his in-. 
 clination, what a fcenc of horror v.ill this world 
 become ! Affluence and a gay difpofition tempt to 
 licentious ple^fures -, penury and a gloomy one to 
 robbery, revenge and murder. Not one enor- 
 mity v;ill be without its plea, if once the boun- 
 daries of duty arc thrown down. But even in* 
 
 this 
 
( i6 ) 
 
 this univerfal depravity, would not his crime be 
 much worfe, who robbed me of my child from 
 riot and licerKioufnefs, and under the guife of 
 love and truth, th.ni his who defpoiled me of my 
 fubftance, and had necefTity to plead in exte- 
 nuation of his guilt ? 
 
 1 cannot doubt, my .dear friend, but you will 
 take, at lead, kindly, tbele expoftularions, 
 though fome of them are upon fubjeots on which 
 our converfations have been hitherto inefFecS^ual. 
 I fubmit them to your confideration. I can have 
 no intereft in making them, no motive but what 
 proceeds from that true friendfhip with which I 
 deiire to be thought, 
 
 Mcfl affectionately yours^ 
 
 Charles Grandisom. 
 
 The young Italian nobleman was of too high 
 a fpirit to be directed by Mr. Grandifon, and 
 therefore their friendfhip broke off for fome time, 
 but as the baron found himfclf involved in dif- 
 ficulties, in confequence of his unhappy connec- 
 tions, he lefc Rome, and travelled to Padua. There 
 he once m.ore met with ?vir. Grandifon, who 
 treated him with the utmoft rcfpecl, telling him 
 at the fame time, that he hoped he had broke 
 off all connc(St:ions with his former unhappy 
 companions. Fhe youn^; gentleman told hijn 
 he had, and Grandifon, who was ever willing 
 to conftrue things in the faircft light, believed 
 him. 
 
 It was not long, however, before Grandifon 
 found that the reformation of his friend was ex-^ 
 tremely partial, for he had contracted an ac- 
 quaintance with a courtezan, who had formerly 
 
 played 
 
{ 17 ) 
 
 played off her charms againft our hero, but to 
 no purpofe. Enraged to think that (he fhould 
 be flighted by an Englifh gentleman, after her 
 charms had captivated leveral Italian princes who 
 were equally poor as proud, fhe refolved to 
 wreck her vengeance upon him. The artful 
 woman contrived to have challenges fent to each 
 party in the name of the other, but Mr. Gran- 
 difon, fo far from giving way to any fort of re- 
 fentment, expollulated with his friend, and told 
 him, that he would never draw his fword in a 
 ftrange country, unlefs it was in his own de- 
 fence, but at the fame time he intimated that 
 there was a pofllbility of their meeting again by 
 accident, at feme place where the myftery might 
 be cleared up to the mutual fatisfacSlion of both, 
 and then took his leave. 
 
 It feems the lady of pleafure had another per- 
 fon againil whom fhe was exafperated, befides 
 our adventurer, and her refolution was, if pofli- 
 ble, to make away with both. Grandifon was 
 in a manner utterly unacquainted with this dia- 
 bolical fcheme, and therefore leaving Padua, 
 he travelled through the Cremonefe, a part of 
 Italy, celebrated in the claflic authors. 
 
 As Mr. Grandifon was paffing through a nar- 
 row road, he faw a horfe with a faddle on, but 
 no rider, and at the fame time he heard the cries 
 of a wounded man. Humanity for his fellow 
 creature in diflrefs, induced him to go up to the 
 place from whence the cries ifTued, where he 
 found two ruffians attempting to aflaffinate a 
 gentleman who had no perfon to afTift him. He 
 inmiediately drew his fword, and having wound- 
 ed one of the ruffians, his companion contrived 
 
 to 
 
( r8 ) 
 
 to carry him off; but how great was his furprlzi 
 when he found that the gentleman whom they 
 had attacked was his old frienJ the Baron 
 Delia Porretta, who had come fo far in difguife, 
 in confequence of his late amour. Having 
 bound up the wounds of his friend in the beft 
 manner he could, he put him into his chaife, 
 and in the mean time difpatched one' of his fer- 
 vants to the city of Cremona, in order to pro- 
 cure a furgeon. He had fcarce performed this 
 charitable a6V, when he was informed that one 
 .of the baron's footmen was lying in an adjoin- 
 ing thicket, tied to a tree, and that there were 
 no hopes of his recovery, he having been 
 wounded in the moft dangerous manner, and 
 almoft bleeding to death in confequcnce of his 
 wounds. 
 
 The poor bleeding fervant being put into the 
 coach, Mr. Grandifon walked on foot, while it 
 moved flowly along, and when they had pro- 
 ceeded about fix miles, the furgeon came up and 
 drefTed their wounds. T^he baron was fo much 
 overcome by Mr. Grandifon's goodnefs, that he 
 implored a thoufand blcfTings upon him, and 
 told him, that if it fhould pleafe God to fpare 
 him, he would for ever after be guided by his 
 advice. 
 
 When they arrived at Cremona proper lodg- 
 ings were taken for the baron, and his whole 
 family were fent for to vilit him. The enco- 
 miums they beftowed upon Mr. Grandifon were 
 the cfpufions of real benevolence, and each of 
 them flrove who fiiould oblige him moft. While 
 the baron lay ill Mr. Grandifon feldom left his 
 bcd-fidc, and in that time repeated all the argu- 
 
 , ments- 
 
( 19 ) 
 
 ijients he had formerly made ufe of, in 6rd«r tb 
 difTuade him from revenge, efpecially as it was 
 a vice prohibited both by natural and revealed 
 religion. The young nobleman liftened to him 
 with the utmoft attention, and the truth appear- 
 ing ftrong in its natural colours, he refolved to 
 abide by his advice, without giving way to thofe 
 falfe notions of honour that have rained many 
 of the fons of our nobility, as well as thofe in 
 foreign parts. 
 
 When the baron began to recover, he was re* 
 moved to his father's houfe, at Bologna, where 
 his brother, the bifhop attended him, and each 
 of the family joined in congratulating our her* 
 on the generous part he had acSted, The brother 
 who was a general in the fervice of the king of 
 Naples, invited Mr. Grandifon to accompany 
 him to that city, while the bifhop infifted on 
 his ftaying along with him, in order to learn 
 him the Knglifh language. 
 
 It feems, that v/hile our celebrated Milton 
 was in that country, he had contraded an ac- 
 quaintance with fome of their progenitors, and 
 therefore his immortal Poem of Paradife Loft, 
 was confidered by them as the ftandard of Englifh 
 tafte, in the fame manner as we confider Horace 
 and Virgil among the Romans. Mr Grandifon 
 delivered IcvSlures in the ItaUan language upon 
 our Englifh Homer, and none were more atten- 
 tive to them than the fair Clementina, who al- 
 ways fat by her brother's bed-fide while Mr. 
 Grandifon was fpeaking. 
 
 Indeed fne was fo much taken with him, that 
 flie became more and more enamoured of him, 
 though fhe knew that fhe could not marry him, 
 
 as 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 as he was what the Roman Catholicks call a 
 heretic. It feems our wounded baron had been 
 fo much overcome by our heroes goodnefb, that 
 he thought there was no recompence could be 
 made to him, but that of an alliance with the 
 family, which he confidered as a moft diftin- 
 guilhing honour. This however was not agree- 
 2ble to the fentiments of the father and mother, 
 for at the fame time the Count of Belvidere 
 having arrived at Bologna, froni Spain, became 
 enamoured of Clementina, and as he was a 
 young nobleman of great worth, and pofTefled 
 of a confiderabje eftate, they confidered the 
 propofal for a match as too advantageous to be 
 rejected. 
 
 About the fame time the rebellion broke out 
 in Scotland, and as Mr. Grandifon could not 
 help loving his country, confequently he was 
 obliged to have fome debates with the people, 
 whom he reipc6ted, and who, in every thing 
 except religion, were perfons of real worth. It 
 was reported throughout all Italy that the pre- 
 tender would be victorious, and as the confe- 
 quence would have been the eftabliftiment of the 
 Romifh religion, fo Lady Clementina could 
 not help pluming herfelf on thefe hopes, for fhe, 
 with all her virtues, was a moft wretched bigot 
 to popery. She longed to fee all hereticks re- 
 conciled to the idolatry of Rome, or, as (he 
 called it, to be brought into the bofom of the 
 church. 
 
 As Mr. Grandifon did not chnfe to enter 
 into the heat of argument with perfons whom 
 he really refpe£ted, and as at the faire time be 
 loved the laws anJ religion of his country, he 
 
 refolved 
 
( 21 ) 
 
 refolved to leave Italy and return to England. 
 He communicated his fentiments to the marquis, 
 who endeavoured to difTuade him from it, his 
 principal view being to get Mr. GrandiCon to 
 intercede with the Count Belvedere, and his 
 daughter to enter into wedlock. Mr. Grandifon 
 complied with his requeft, and being admitted 
 to the young lady, he fpoke many things in fa- 
 vour of the count, but, to his great furprize, 
 found thst fhe had began to place her afFeitions 
 on himfelf. 
 
 The time that Mr. Grandifon had fixed for 
 his departure from Italy drawing nigh, he put 
 his friends in mind of it; bat it feems the 
 younger brother of Clementina was fo intent 
 on a match between him and his fifter, that 
 he began to found heron her inclinations. The 
 mother did the fame, but neither of them could 
 get any other fatisfa6i:icn from her but tears. 
 They had for fome time beheld a fettled melavi- 
 choly on her countenance, which never feemed 
 to be in the leaft diipeljed, except xluring the 
 time that Mr. Grandifon was learning her a 
 language, which, according to their opinion, 
 could never be of any ufe to her. 
 
 Mr. Grandifon, was defired to talk to her on 
 the fubje(5l, which he did with great prudence, 
 but could not receive a fatisfad:ory anfwer. 
 The marquis finding that Mr. Grandifon was 
 eager to fet out for England, through Ger- 
 many, a grand entertainment was provided 
 for him, for they had by that time brought 
 themfelves to hearken to the voice of reafon in 
 4X0t detaining a young gentleman from his coun- 
 try 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 try while the flames of a civil war were kindled 
 in it. 
 
 Clementina behaved in fo chearful a manner, 
 that her parents began to imagine that fhe had 
 forgot or given up all thoughts of Grandifon, 
 and when he was going to take his leave, fhe 
 gave him her hand and even her cheek to kifs, 
 telling him that the deliverer of her brother 
 muft never be forgotten by her. She concluded 
 by wiihing that God would convert him to the 
 true catholic religion, wifliing that he might 
 never want fuch a friend as he had been to her 
 brother. Juft as he was taking his leave, the 
 younger brother flung his arms about his neck, 
 ^nd told him that nothing gave him fo much 
 uneafmefs as to fee him and his fifter parted, 
 upon which Mr. Grandifon took his leave and 
 fet out for Infpruck. 
 
 Soon after his arrival at Infpruck, he received 
 the difagreeable news that the young lady was 
 in a manner become delirious, and that for fe- 
 veral hours fhe had fhut herfelf up in her clofet, 
 .uttering the moft incoherent exprefllons, upon 
 .which her maid called her mother, and then 
 Clementina declared that fhe was determined to 
 go into a nunnery, for fhe could not bear the 
 abfence of the lovely flranger. Her confefTor, 
 who was really a worthy man, was fent for, and 
 did all he could to keep up her fpirits, but he 
 foon difcovered that her mind was fixed on fome 
 other obje6^, befidcs religion. He faw that her 
 mind was agitated between paffion and duty, 
 and he found it very diflicult to fay any thing to 
 •her in a proper manner. 
 
 At 
 
C 23 ) 
 
 At Florence lived one Mrs. Beaumont, an En- 
 glifh lady, and a widow, who, in the early- 
 part of her life had bean robbed of her fortune 
 by an uncle, and as fhe had fome acquaintance 
 with the Marchionefs Delia Pometta, fhe defired 
 that her daughter Clementina might be for fome 
 months left under her care, promifing at the 
 fame time that Ihe would do every thing in her 
 power to reconcile the young lady, by the moft 
 rational arguments, to hearken to the voice of 
 reafon, and not give herfelf up t« melancholy^* 
 The marchionefs complied with her re<]ueft, 
 and the amiable Clementina was fent to the 
 houfe of Mrs. Beaumont. 
 
 Mrs. Beaumont, who was a lady of great 
 prudence, as well as difcernment, foon difcover- 
 ed that all this uneafmefs in the mind of Cle- 
 mentina, arofe from the fudden departure of 
 Mr. Grandifon. She told her {he could not 
 help loving his perfon, and admiring his many 
 accomplifhments, both natural and ac(^uired, 
 but at the fame time flie faid that ihe would 
 never give her hand to a heretic, if he had 
 even an imperial crown on his head. So ftrong 
 is the force of bigotry, and fo neceflary is it for 
 every perfon to improve their mental faculties, 
 Jby attending to the fober dictates of reafon. 
 
 Mrs, Beaumont was really a fcnfible lady, and 
 being no ftranger to the force of bigotry, when 
 -it operates on the human mind, fhe fent an 
 account to the marqhionefsof theconverfationthat 
 had pafTed between her and Clementina, adding 
 at the fame time the arguments fae had made ufe 
 £)f, in order to difTuade her from giving up her 
 
 mind 
 
( 84 ) 
 
 mind to a fruitlefs paffion, from which fhe could 
 never receive any enjoyment. 
 
 The marchionefs, in a letter which fhe fent 
 her in anfwer, told her, that (he was under many 
 obligations to her, and would never forget them 
 as long as fhe lived, but as her daughter was in 
 fome meafure cured of her melancholy, fhe de- 
 fired fhe might be fent home, to all which Cle- 
 mentina agreed, and was received by her parents 
 in the mofl tender and affectionate manner. It 
 was then propofed to fend for Mr. Grandifon, 
 who was then at Vienna, and accordingly the 
 general, brother of Clementina, wrote him a 
 letter, which he received with all the marks of 
 furprife. He was much afFcded to hear of the 
 condition in which the young lady was, but as 
 he knew that religion was an infeparable bar in 
 the way, he was obliged to fummon up all his 
 fortitude, and return tovifit a family, which he 
 loved in the moft afFe(Stionate manner. 
 
 Upon Mr. Grand ifon*s arrival he was received 
 in the moft polite manner, by the marquis and 
 his fon, the bifliop, while the other fon, who 
 had been wounded, and fHll kept his chamber, 
 embraced him as his deliverer. He added, that 
 Clementina would be his, or fhe would die of 
 love for him. Mr. Grandifon was then con- 
 du6led into the drawing-room of the marchionefs, 
 whom he found richly drelTed, and the lovely 
 Clementina {landing behind her chair. The 
 young lady was dreffed in the fame elegant man- 
 ner as her mother, but her natural modefty was 
 fuch, that it outfhone all the decorations that 
 can at any time be added to the fex. The mar- 
 chionefs treated him with the utmoft refpe£l, and 
 
 apologized 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 apologized for the confufion her daughter was in^ 
 becaufe (he had no hopes of feeing him in fo un- 
 expefted a manner. She told him, that her fon, 
 the bifliop, would converfe with him on fubjeds 
 of the utmoft importance, and in the mean time 
 fhe would do all in her power to keep up the 
 fpirits of her daughter. 
 
 Soon after this converfation was over, the mar- 
 quis entered, and treated Mr. Grandifon in the 
 fame condefcending manner, telling him at the 
 fame time what the marchionefs had faid before, 
 namely, that his fon, the bifliop, would treat 
 with him on fome points that were in difpute 
 between them. 
 
 At laft the bifhop made his appearance, and he 
 propofed to Mr. Grandifon, that he had no ob- 
 jections to his marrying his fifter, upon condition 
 that he would renounce the proteftant religion, 
 and live in Italy, only that once in two or three 
 years he fhould be allowed to return to England, 
 to receive the rents of his eftates. This propofal 
 was what Mr. Grandifon would by no means, 
 agree with ; he declared that he would never 
 renounce the proteftant religion, but if Clemen- 
 tina would be his, he would only fpend three 
 months of the year in England, and during the 
 remainder of the year he would refide in Italy. 
 This, however, was what they would by no 
 means comply with, although Hie young lady 
 faid all fhe could to perfuade them to it, Mr. 
 Grandifon remained firm in his purpofe without: 
 ever deviating from it in the leaft, and he was 
 feconded by the younger brother, who faid every 
 thing he could to induce his parents to agree to 
 the match j but all to no purpofe, for th: bi{hop 
 C declared 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 'declared that his fifler (hould never marry a 
 heretic, and the other brother feemcd to treat 
 our hero with the iitmoft contempt. 
 
 The marquis was as bigotted as the reft of the 
 family, but the mother zt\ed a very prudent paft, 
 for fhe left the whole to the management of her 
 hufhand. The brothers begnn to call our adven- 
 turer an obfcure fellow, whe had only come to 
 Italy in order to pufH his fortune, and therefore 
 they wiflied him away as foon as pofTible. They 
 looked upon the alliance as derogatory to their 
 family, but nothing was fo odious as that of his 
 being a heretic, a crime that no papirt: will ever 
 forgive, becaufe he imaghies the perfon is to be 
 fent to hell. 
 
 The contempt with which Mr. Grandifon was 
 treated, induced him to leave Italy immediately, 
 and having travelled to Paris, waited in that 
 city, in order to hear frorfi his father. 
 
 While he was at Paris, he became acquainted 
 with Mr. Danby, an Englifh merchant, who 
 knew his father, and with him he fpent fome time 
 at his country-houfe. Mr. Danby's houfe was 
 fituated at fome diftance from Paris, and one 
 night, while Mr. Grandifon was laying awake, 
 meditating on his Italian adventures, he heard a 
 noife, and getting up, found that fome ruffians 
 liad got hold of Mr Danby, and were very near 
 having murdered him ; Mr. Grandifon ran his 
 fword into the ftioulder of one of the ruffians, 
 upon which the fellow roared out that he was a 
 dead man. 
 
 A fecond felllow had got up to the window, 
 and called out to a third to follow him, upon 
 which Mr. Grandifon drew his fword, and would 
 
 certainly 
 
 i 
 
< 27 ) 
 
 certainly have done the thief's bufinefs) had not 
 he flipped down and fallen upon the head of his 
 companion, after which they both took to their 
 heels. 
 
 The fellow who had been wounded in the infide 
 of the houfe, lay weltering in his blood, upon 
 which Mr. Grandifon ordered proper care to be 
 taken of him, and he was foon brought to him- 
 felf, by fome of the fervants who attended. The 
 fellow told Mr. Grandifon that he was willing to 
 make an ample confeilion, which he did, and in 
 confequence thereof, the following particulars 
 were difcovered. 
 
 Mr. Danby was a batchelor, and although he 
 had the utmoft averfion to makina: his will, yet 
 was a real generous man, and had long fupport- 
 cd a profligate brother in all forts of extrava- 
 gancies. That brother had fpent his whole for- 
 time in gaming, and finding that Mr. Danby 
 would not advance him a thoufand guineas, he 
 contrived a fcheme to put himfelf in polTeflion of 
 his whole fortune. This wretch had hired the 
 three ruffians ta murder him, and that there 
 might be no fafpicion that he was concerned in 
 it, it was agreed that the drawers fliould be 
 broke open, and every thing taken out of them 
 as foon as the murder was perpetrated. The 
 villains had fifty crowns each before they under- 
 took to execute their fcheme, and they were to 
 have each a thoufand crowns as foon as they had 
 completed the bloody work. Their wicked em- 
 ployer waited for them at Calais, but when he 
 heard that they had been difappointed, he got on 
 board of the packet and landed at Dover. The 
 two villains, who had made their efcape from the 
 -Ca houfe, 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 lioufc, were taken the next<3a)% and being found 
 guilty were ordered for execution, but Mr. Gran- 
 difon having interceded for thscr., they were only 
 condemned to the galiies for li'e. 
 
 While Mr. Grandifon was thus difcharglngall 
 the duties of benevolence that do honour to men, 
 and add a luftre to Chriflianity, his father, Sir 
 "Thomas, was indulging himfelf in a round of 
 unlawful pleafures. That his daughters might 
 not be an incumbrance to him, he made choice 
 of one Mrs. Oldham to fuperintend their edu- 
 cation, whofe hufband had died of a broken heart 
 -ifter having fpent a good ellate. 
 
 Mrs. Oldham was a gay woman, and not de- 
 ftitute of many female accomplifhments, but fo 
 volatile was fhe in the whole of her conduit, that 
 fhe made fuch advances to Sir Thomas, that in 
 the compafs of a few months fhe was obliged to 
 take a journey to London, in order to lye-in 
 privately. 
 
 The young ladies, the daughtersof SirThomas, 
 had fo much fpirit, that they oppofed the return 
 of Mrs, Oldham, telling their father, that they 
 would manage the domeftic affairs of the houfe 
 in Wiltfhire ; but as he had another houfe in 
 Eflfex, he took the lady to it as foon as fhe was 
 fit to go abroad, and there they lived in fuch an 
 elegant manner, that mofl of the neighbouring 
 gentry began to imagine that they were married, 
 for unlefs that had been the cafe, they could not 
 account for his treating her in the manner he 
 did. 
 
 Sir Thomas, however, was a man of fo much 
 gaiety, that he did not confine him'' f to one 
 woman, for he had another befides Mrs. Oldham, 
 
 whom 
 
( 29 ) 
 
 ^'hom he kept in London, and who lived in the 
 fnoft extravagant manner. He did not know that 
 Mrs. Oldham had been delivered of a child, for 
 fhe concealed that circumftance from him, and 
 he was extremely angry with his daughters, he- 
 caufe they v/ould not permit her to come again 
 to the houfe as their governefs. 
 
 Sir Thomas behaved with great feverity to his 
 daughters, by ordering them not to write to any 
 perfon, nay, not even tohimfelf or their brother, 
 but in all companies, while over his bottle, he 
 could not help taking notice that hic> Ton was one 
 of the moft accomplifhed young gentleman in the 
 world, who had joined piety, learning and bra- 
 very together. 
 
 While he was Irving in this diffipated manner, 
 Mrs. Farnborough, the woman whom he kept in 
 town, was feized with the fmail pox and died, 
 ■i^hich affected him fo much, that he went down 
 to Hampfhire, and fpent fome weeks with his 
 daughters, a£ting as a man of good fenfe, a qua- 
 lity that he was known to pofTefs in a confiderable 
 degree, 
 
 Juft about the time of Mrs, Farnborough's 
 death, and before Sir Thomas fet out for Hamp- 
 
 fliire, he was vifited by Lord L , who had 
 
 been making the tour of Europe, and whp 
 brought along with him feveral prefents from his 
 fon, which ferved to convince the baronet of hi? 
 fon*s good tafte. He invited Lord L — •— to 
 fpend a few days with him in the country, which 
 his lord/hip complied with, and h-ad not been 
 long there, before he fell in love with one of the 
 daughters,, who was then about nineteen years or 
 age. 
 
 Cit It 
 
( 3° ) 
 
 It was not long before his lorJfliip difcovercc! 
 his paffion to the young lady, but Sir Thonias 
 would by no means give his confent, nor would 
 he aiTign a reafon for that part of his conduct. 
 He now began to put his don^ieflic afiaiis in proper 
 order, efpecially as he expected that it would not 
 be long before his beloved fon returned, but he- 
 v/as {till uneafy in v/hat manner to difpofe of Mrs. 
 Oldham, who had adready bore him two children. 
 He doubted not but his fon would h.^r.r of hfs 
 cop.ne(nion with her, and at the fame time he was 
 unwilling to difcaid her without making a proper 
 provifion for her and her children. 
 
 While Sir Thomas was meditating on thefe 
 tilings, a propofal v/as made by one of the iirft 
 nobler^en In the kingdom, to bring about a mar- 
 riage between Mr, Grandifon and his d. ughter, 
 luui news of itvvas communicated to Mr. Gran-» 
 difon, then at Florence. Sir Thom^as propofcd 
 to give up his whole cftate to his fon, referving 
 only a fmall annuity to himfelf, but this was 
 what the pious youth would by no means agree 
 to, and therefore in his anlvvcr he told his father, 
 that he would never take pofTeffion of his eftate 
 while he was alive. H^ added further, that as 
 to the marriage, he knew nothing at all about 
 it, for he could not, confitient with his duty, 
 give his confent to enter into that Itate with any 
 perfon, till fuch time as he was acquainted with 
 her in fuch a manner as to difcover her natural 
 temper and difpofition. 
 
 VVhen Sir Thomas received the anfwer from 
 his fon, he found that he had fo much virtue, that 
 he would, jf proper explanations were made, be 
 afhamed of hii^ ov/n conduct, and therefore he 
 
 .;^ave 
 
{ 3' ) 
 
 gave up all thoughts of the marriage till fiich time 
 as his fon fhould arrive. In the mean time, as 
 there were leveral accounts to fettle, he ordered 
 his two ftewards to brin^ them in, becaufe they 
 contained feveral funis, which he wifhed to con- 
 ceal. Having given thefe dire6tions to his ftew- 
 ards, he v/ent down to his feat in Eflex, where 
 he was foon taken extremely ill, and for feveral 
 days deprived of the ufe of his reaibn. ilis 
 daughters were fent for to attend him, and an ex- 
 prefs was difpatclied to Paris for his fon, who 
 waited only for his permiflion to return. On the 
 eleventh day the fever kft him, and feeing his 
 daughters flanding by his h^dfide^ parental af- 
 fevStion returned to its proper channel, and he 
 beheld his dear offspring with that complacency 
 and delight that fht>uld ever mark the character 
 of a father. Soi)n after this his delirium returned, 
 and he paid the debt of nature in the prefence of 
 Mrs. Oldham and his beloved daughters, leaving 
 behind him the character of a man who might 
 have been an ornament to fociety, had he not 
 been a Have to fafhionable follies. 
 
 Mr, Grandifon, who arrived jufl about this 
 time, put his fcal upon every thing in the houfe, 
 that no perfon fhould open them till his father's 
 will was read, upon which Mrs. Oldham wept 
 bitterly. The young ladies told her, that fhe had 
 no reafon to expecSt any thing, feeing Vae had 
 Jived in the moft fcandalous manner with their 
 father, but if any thing was left to her, there 
 was not the leaft doubt but their brother v^'ould 
 do her juftice. 
 
 Thus poor Mrs. Oldham was difcarded, after 
 
 having reigned feveral years in the moft domi- 
 
 C 4 neer.nj; 
 
( 3i ) 
 
 neering manner over the paflions of Sir Thomas ; 
 but now he was dead, and as ihc had no perfon 
 to apply tOj (he faw nothing before her but mi- 
 fery j (he had two children by her huiband, and 
 two by Sir Thomai!, and as all her children were 
 unprovided for, as well as herfelf, fhe looked- 
 upon herfelf as the moft mifcrable of beings. 
 
 Sir Charles Grandifon having given orders fot 
 his father's interment, it was condudted in ihi 
 moft decent manner, and his remains having been 
 depofited with thofe of his deceafed fpoufe, the 
 pious youth caufed a monument to be erc(5led to- 
 the memory of both, not (o much to make sc 
 pompous difplay of their virtues, as to convey a 
 Jafting example to thofe who fhould come after. 
 He took care to avoid all manner of oftentation, 
 and in confequence of that cecanomy, he was 
 enabled to beftow fome fmall gratuity on fuch 
 families as were hibouiing under the greatcfl 
 diftrcfs. He then proceeded to fearch for the 
 will, but not finding any, he fet out for the 
 houfe in Efl'ex, and as Mrs. Oldham had affixed 
 her feals to every thing, it was neceflary that 
 fhe fhould be fent for before they were broke 
 open. 
 
 The poor woman received the fummons to 
 attend in the moft trembling manner ; fhe was 
 confcious that fhe had not adled confiffent with 
 her duty to the young ladies, and it mufl be ac- 
 knowltd<z;ed that when fhe made her appearance 
 before them, they did not treat her with fo much 
 l)umanity as they ought to have done. She ap- 
 peared before her examiners in the moft trembling 
 manner, and when they took notice that flie was 
 in mounving, llie anfwered that fae was a real 
 
 mourner, 
 
C 33 ) 
 
 mourner, for (he was left deftltute, expofed to 
 all the hardflilps of an injurious world. They 
 told her that her brother was coming, upon 
 which the woman turned pale, and was ready- 
 to fall into fits. 
 
 Sir Charles entered. She was (landing near 
 the door. He bowed to her. Mrs. Oldham, I 
 prefume, faid he — Pray, madam, be feated. I 
 lent to you that you might fee the feals broken 
 -—Pray, madam, fit down, added he, taking her 
 hand, and leading her to a chair not far diftant 
 from his fillers, and feating himfelf in one be- 
 tween them and her. Pray, madam, compofe 
 yourfelf, faid he, looking upon her with eyes of 
 pity, and then turned to her fillers, to give her 
 time to recover herfelf. 
 
 A flood of tears relieved her. She tried to^ 
 fupprefs her audible fobs, which he moft confi- 
 derately would not hear 5 and her emotions at- 
 tracting the eyes of the ladies, he took them off, 
 by asking them fomething about a pidlure that 
 hung on the other fide of the room. He then 
 drew his chair nearer to her, and again takino- 
 her trembling hand — I am not a ftranger to your 
 melancholy ilory, Mrs. Oldham — Be not dif- 
 Gompofed. He flopped to give her a few mo- 
 ments to recover herfelf, and then refumed. See 
 in me a friend ready to thank you for all your 
 pafl good offices, and to forget all miflaken ones. 
 She could not bear this, fhe threw herfelf at his 
 feet. He raifed her to her chair. Poor Mr, 
 Oldham, faid he, was unhappily carelefs ! yet I 
 have been told he loved you, and that you me- 
 rited his love. — Your misfortunes threw you 
 into the knowledge of our family. You have 
 C 5 been 
 
( 34 ) 
 
 been a faithful manager of the affairs of this 
 houfe. By written evidences I can juftify you j 
 evidences that no one here will, I am fure dif- 
 pu e. Mr» Grandifon, who is a good-natured 
 man, but a little hafty, has told me, that he 
 treated you with unkindnefs. He thought you 
 wrong for infifting to put your feal ; but he was 
 millaken, you did right. 
 
 O brother ! brother ! faid both the ladies, at 
 the fame time, half in admiration, though half 
 concerned. Bear with me, my fillers, faid he, 
 we have all fomething to be forgiven for. They 
 knew not how they were ccncerned in the ad- 
 monition, from what their father had written of 
 them. He then made a motion for chocolate to 
 be brought in, and being willing to relieve Mrs.. 
 Oldham by fome little employment, defired her 
 to be Co good as to fee it made. 
 
 The moment fhe was gone put of the room^ 
 he thus addreil'ed himfelf to the ladies. My dear 
 fifters, let me beg of you to think favourably of 
 me on this occafion. I confider not the cafe of 
 this poor woman on the foot of her own merits 
 with regard to us. Our father's memory is con- 
 cerned : (he is intitled to juftice, for its own 
 fake; to generofity, for ours; to kindnefs, for 
 my father's. He praifes to me Mrs. Oldham's 
 eeconomy in feveral of his letters. He had a 
 ri"ht to do what he would with hid own fortune. 
 It was not ours tilt' now. Whatever he has left 
 us, he might have ftill leffened it. That crco- 
 nomy is all that concerns us in interefl, and that 
 is in her favour. He could have given Mrs. 
 Oldhani a title to a name, that would hav« 
 commanded oui lefpedl, if not our levercnce. 
 
 You 
 
( 35 ) 
 
 You have enlarged minds, you are the daughters 
 of the mod charitable, the moil: forgiving of 
 women, and I was v/Iliing, before I recom- 
 mended her to your mercy, to judge of her be- 
 haviour. Is (he not humbled enough ? From 
 my foul I pity her. She loved my father, and I 
 have no doubt but that fhe mourns for him iti 
 in fecret, yet dares not own, dares not plead 
 her love. I am willing to confider her only as 
 one who has executed a principal ofHce in this 
 houfe; and it becomes us fo to behave to her, 
 as that the v/orld fnould think we confider her 
 in that light only. 
 
 After they had drank chocolate, he told Mrs. 
 Oldham, that he v/ould attend her, and defired 
 his fillers to accompany them. On their com- 
 ing to the chamber in which Sir Thomas died, 
 and v/hich was his ufual apartment, Mrs. Old- 
 ham turned pale, and weeping, begged to be ex- 
 cufed attending them in it, and to wait in the 
 adjoining drawing-room. Sir Chiules granted 
 her requefi. Poor woman ! faid he, how un- 
 happily circumftanced is fiie, that (he dare not, 
 in ihis company, fhew the tendernefs, v/hich is 
 the glory, not only of the female, but of the hu- 
 man nature-! 
 
 In one of the cabinets in that chamber they 
 found a beautiful little casket, with tiie key tied 
 to one of the filver handles, and a paper wafered 
 upon it, on y/hich was wrote. My wife's jewels. 
 Sir Charles afked his fifters, if they had not yet 
 had their mother's jewels, and being told that 
 their father had faid they fliould be theirs on 
 their marriage, he inftantly prefented them this 
 casket, which, while their brother was taking- 
 
 minutes 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 minutes of papers, the iadles retired to open, 
 Befidcs rhe jewels they found three purfes in it, 
 in two of which were a confiderable number 
 of old broad-pieces, with fon>e bank-notes and 
 India bonds. The third purfe was thus la- 
 belled. 
 
 '' For my Icloved fon : In acknowledgment of 
 his duty to his father and me, from infancy 
 to this hour ; of his love to his fillers ; of 
 the gcnerofity of -his temper ; of his love of 
 truth; and of his modefty, courage, bene- 
 volence, flcadinefs of mind, docility, and 
 other great and amiable qualities, by which' 
 he c;ivcs a moral afTurance of making a 
 
 GOOD MAN. GOD grant it. . 
 
 Amen.'' 
 The ladies immediately carried the purfe to 
 their brother, when having read the label, Ex- 
 cellent woman ! fuid he, being dead fhe fpeaks ; 
 and looking up, he added, may her pious prayer 
 be anfwered ! Then opening the purfe, he found 
 iwe coronation medals of diffcient princes ; a 
 gold fnuff-box, in which were three diamond 
 ^int^<i, and a miniature pid^ure of his mother, 
 fet in gold, an admirable likencfs. Neglecting 
 all the reft, he eagerly took it out, gazed at it 
 in filence, kifled it, and put it to his heart. 
 The ladies told him what was in the other two 
 purfes, and offered the bonds, notes and money 
 to him. He asked if there were no particular 
 directions upon either ? They anfwered. No. 
 He then obfcrving that there might be a diffe- 
 rence in their value, emptied them upon the 
 table, and mingling the contents both together, 
 added. Thus mingled, you, my fifters, will 
 
 equally 
 
in) 
 
 equally divide them between yon. This pl(5ture- 
 (putting his hand on his bofom, where it yet 
 was) is of infinitely more value than all the three 
 purles contain befides. 
 
 When Sir Charles, and his fifters had looked 
 over every other part in his father's apartment, 
 he followed Mrs. Oldham to her's, who fhewed' 
 him the clofec in which all (he was worth was 
 contained^, and complained of Mr. Grandifon's 
 refufing to let her take 50I. out of it. He bid^ 
 her aflure herfelf o^ juftice,- and breaking the 
 feal, left it to her to (lie w them what fhe thought 
 was proper for him to take account of. He was 
 obliged to check the curiofity of his fifters, who 
 would have examined her drawers. She fhew*' 
 ed them the cabinet which contained all the 
 money, notes and fecurities fhe had honeftly 
 faved. Mifs Caroline asked to what amount. 
 No matter, fiftcr, to what amount, faid Sir 
 Charles. You hear Mrs^OIdham fay, they are- 
 honeftly got together. I dare fay, that my fa- 
 ther's bounty enabled his meaneft fervants to 
 fave money. I would not keep one that J 
 thought did not. I make no'camparifons, Mrs. 
 Oldham ; you are a gentlewoman. 1 believe 
 there is near 1200I. faid Mrs. Oldham, and 
 looked as if (he was afraid of the ladles cenfures. 
 They exprefTed their furprize at the largenefs 
 * of the fum, and obferved, that many times the)r 
 fhould have been glad of as many (hillings be- 
 tween them. Sir Charles asked what occafioii 
 they had for more than current money, and ob- 
 ferved, that now they had a claim to indepen- 
 dency, he hoped that 1200I. fhould not be the 
 fummit of either of their (lores. Mrs. Oldham, 
 
 trembling^ 
 
( 38 ) 
 
 trembling, fald, in this private drawer are fome 
 pielents — I difclaim them ; if you will believe 
 nie ladies, I never wifhed for them, offering to 
 pull out the drawer. Forbear, Mrs. Oldham, 
 laid Sir Charles, preft;nts are yours ; the money 
 alfo is yours : never will I either difparage or 
 diminifh my fathei's bounty : he had a right to 
 do as he plea'fed. Had he made a will, would 
 
 they not have been yours ? If you, Mrs, 
 
 Oldham, if you, my fifters, can tell me any 
 thing he but intended or inclined to do by any 
 one of his people, that intention will. I execute 
 with as much exadinefs as if he had made a will 
 and it was part of it. Shall v/e do nothing but 
 juflice ?— The law was not made for a man of 
 confcience. 
 
 After Sir Charles had ii]fpe(Sted and taken mi- 
 nutes of every thing in this houfe, he gave Mrs. 
 Oldham the key of her apartment, and ordered 
 th^ ho'jfe-keeper to affift her in the removal of 
 her efFeds, at her own time and pleafure, and 
 to come and go at at all times v/ith freedom 
 and civility, as if fhc had never left the houfe. 
 
 Sir Charles then, addrcfiing himfelf to his fif- 
 ters, faid, You may look at the juftice I aim at 
 doing to perfon.5 who can claim only jufticc from 
 me, as an earned, that I will do more than juf- 
 tice to my beloved fillers. You fhould have 
 been the firft to have found the fruits of the 
 Jove I bear you, had J not been afraid that pru- 
 dence would have narrowed my intentions. I 
 am forry» my dear fifters for your fpiriis fake, 
 that you are left in my power, l^he bcil «;f 
 women was always afraid that it would be (o. 
 But the moment I can, I will give you an abff»- 
 
 lutc 
 
( 39 ) 
 
 lute independence on your brother, that your ac- 
 tions and conduct may be all your own. Both 
 Caroline and Charlotte, with tears, exprefTed 
 their gratitude, and told him that they thought 
 it their highefl felicity that they were in the 
 power of fuch a brother. 
 
 Sir Charles, fome time afier, at parting with 
 Mrs. Oldham faid, 1 would be glad to know, 
 madam, how you difpofe of yourfelf ; every un- 
 happy perfon has a right to the good offices of 
 thofe who are embarraiTed. When you are fet- 
 tled pray let me know the manner ; and if you 
 acquaint me with the ftate of your aiFairs, and- 
 what you intend to do for and with thofe who 
 are intitled to your care j your confidence in me 
 will not be mifphced, Mrs. Oldham, at her 
 firft opportunity gave him a- written account of 
 the manner in which fhe propofed to live, v/nh, 
 an eftimate of all fhe was worth, on which Sir 
 Charles generoufly allowed her an annuity for 
 the fake of her fons by his father^ 
 
 When Sir Charles found that Sir Thomas had 
 left the infpedion of each Reward's account to 
 the other, he entered into the examination of 
 the whole himfelf ; and though he allowed them 
 feveral difputable and unproved charges, he 
 brought them to acknowledge a much greater 
 balance in his favour than they had made thcm- 
 felves debtors for. Pie then difpofed of his 
 hunters, racers, and dog^, took a furvey of the 
 timber upon his eftate, and felled that which 
 would have been the w^orfe for ftanding; but,, 
 for the fake of pofterity, planted an oakling for 
 every oak he cut dov^'n j when the fale of the 
 timber he cut down in Hampihire, which lay 
 
 convenient 
 
( 40 ) 
 
 convenient for water-carriage, for ufe of the 
 government, furnifhed him with a very confi- 
 derable fum. He then went into Ireland, to 
 look into the condition of his eftate there, paid 
 ciF a mortgage upon it, took it into his own* 
 hands, and finding it capable of great improve- 
 inents, ordered them to be made. 
 
 Lord L. came to town from Scotland two 
 or three months after Sir Charles's arrival in 
 England, and paid him his firft vifit, when on- 
 his lordihip's avowing; his palnon for Mifs Caro- 
 line, and fhe acknowjcd^ing her citeem for him, 
 he introduced him to her, and putting their 
 hands together, holding them between both his: 
 With nleafure, faid he, do I join hands whcFC 
 hearts lo worthy are miited. Do me, my lord, 
 the honour, from this moment, to look upon 
 me as your brother. My father, I iind, was a 
 litdc embarrafled in his affairs. He loved his 
 daucrhters, and perhaps was loih that they (hould- 
 early claim another protection ; but had he lived 
 to make himfclf eafy, I have no doubt but that 
 he would have made them happy. He has left 
 that duty upon me — and I will perform it. — — 
 Mifs Caroline was unable to fpeak for joy, and 
 my lord's tears were ready to ffart. 
 
 Mifs Charlotte was affected with this fccne, 
 and with bcr eyes and hands lifted up (lie pray.d, 
 that God would make his power as large as his 
 heart : the whole world then, (he faid, would be 
 benefitted either by his bounty or his example. 
 And has not my Charlotte, faid he, turning to- 
 wards her, fome happy man, that (he can diflin- 
 guifh by her love f You are ccjuaJly dear to 
 
f 41 > 
 
 we, my fifters. Make me your confident, Char-^ 
 lotte. Your inclinatrons fhall be my choice. 
 
 Two months before the marriage. Sir Charlcs^ 
 put into his fifter^s hands a paper fealed up. Re- 
 ceive this, my Caroline, faid he, as from your 
 father's bounty, in compliance with what your 
 mother would have wifhed, had we been blefTed 
 with her life. When you oblige Lord L. with 
 one hand, make him, with the other, this pre- 
 fent ; and intitle yourfelf to all the gratitude,, 
 with which your worthy heart will overflow, on 
 both occafions. I have done but my duty; I 
 have performed only an article of the will, which 
 I have made in my mind for my father, as time 
 was not lent to make one for himfelf. He faluted 
 her and withdrew, before fhe broke the feal ^ 
 and when fhe did, fhe found in it bank notes for 
 ten thoufand |x>unds. 
 
 She thrtw herfelf into a chair, and was unable,, 
 for fome time, to ftir, but recovering herfelf, hur- 
 ried out to find her brotheri She was told he 
 was in his fifter's apartment. She found him not 
 there, but Charlotte in tears. Sir Charles had 
 jufl left her. What ails my Charlotte ? faid fhe^ 
 O this brother ! my Caroline, cried the other : 
 there is no bearing his generous goodnefs. She 
 took it up, and found it was for the fame funi 
 he had given^her, and to carry intereft. The 
 two fifters congratulated and wept over each- 
 other as if diftrefTed. Caroline found out her 
 brother i but when fhe approached him, could 
 not utter one word of what fhe had meditated to 
 fay ; but dropping down on one knee, could only 
 «xprefs her gratitude by her lifted-up hands and 
 
 Juft 
 
( 42 ) 
 
 Juft as he had railed and feated her, entered t» 
 them the equally grateful Charlotte. He placed 
 her next her fifter, and drawing a chair for him- 
 felf, taking a hand of each, he thus addreffed 
 himfelf to them. My dear fiftcrs, you aie too 
 ic'irible of thefe, but due inftances of my bro-^ 
 therly love. It has pleafed God to take from us 
 our father and mother, and we muft fupply to^ 
 each other their wants. Look upon me only as an 
 executor of a wiil, that ought to have been made, 
 and perhaps would, had time been given. My 
 circumfrances aie greater than I expected ; great- 
 er, 1 da;e fay, than my father thought they 
 ^vould be; and lefs than I have done, could not 
 be done, by a brother who had power to do this, 
 Vou don't know how much you will oblige me, 
 if you never fay one word more on this fubje^t". 
 You will aci: with lefs dignity than becomes my 
 filters, if you look upon what I have done in any 
 Other light than as your due. 
 
 Sir Charles, at the end of eight months from 
 his father's death, gave Caroline, with his owa 
 hand, to Lord L, who carried her down to Scot- 
 land, where fhe was greatly admired and carefTed. 
 by all her relations. Sir Charles accompanied 
 the Lord and Lady L. as far on their way as 
 York ; where he made a vifit to Mrs. Eleanor 
 Grandifon, his father's maiden fifter, who refided 
 there. She having heard of his goodnefs to his 
 fifters, and to every bodyclfe with whc/m he had 
 any concerns, longed to fee him ; and on this 
 occafion rejoiced in the opportunity he gave 
 her to CQ/igratulate, to bl'efs, and applaud her 
 nephew. 
 
 It 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 It is now neceflary for fomc time to leave Sir 
 Ciiarles, in order to make the reader acquainted 
 with another charadter, who will make no in- 
 confiderable figure in the following part of this 
 work. Alifs Harriet Byron, a moft accompliih- 
 ed young lady, who had united in her face, 
 feature, complexion, grace and exprefTicn, Vv^hich 
 very few women, even of thofe moft celebrated 
 for their beauty, have fingly in equal degree; 
 who has a heart that is equally pure and open, 
 and a fine mind legible in her lovely and expreffiv* 
 countenance. This lady, who wss juftly the 
 delight and pride of her relations, and the admi- 
 ration of all who either faw or converfed v^'ith 
 her, was taken to London by her aunt Rees^ who 
 p^iida vifit to her relations at Selby-houfe, where 
 Mifs Byron lived. 
 
 Among the feveral admirers of this lady, was 
 Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, a gay, proud and con- 
 ceited fop, Vvith a handfome perfon, and an eftate 
 of eight hundred thoufand pounds a year. The 
 barooft had been accidentally in her company^ 
 when fhe enlivened the converfation with the mofl: 
 agreeable fallies of wit, and waiting upon her af- 
 terwards at Mr. Reeve's, he there made an open 
 declaration of his paffion, in the prefence of her 
 uncle and aujit, on which Mifs Harriet frankly 
 told him, that fhe thanked him for his good 
 opinion of her, but could not encourage his ad- 
 drelTes. He ieemed amazed at this d^^clarr.tion, 
 and repeating cannot encourage my addrefies I 
 faid, that he had been affured that her affedions 
 were not engaged ; but that furely il muft be a 
 miftake. She afked if it was a necefiliry confe- 
 quence, that the woman who could not receive 
 
 ths 
 
( 4+ ) 
 
 the addreiTes of Sir Hargrave Pollexferv, mufl: b« 
 engaged ? Why, madam — as to that, faid he, I 
 know not what to fay — but to a man cf my 
 fortune, and I hope not ablbluttly difagreeablo 
 either in perfon cr temper, of fonte rank in life 
 —what, madam, if you are as much in earneftas 
 you feem, can be your objection ? be fo good as 
 to name it. We do not, faid fhe, we cannot all 
 )ike the fame perfon. Women, I have heard fay, 
 are very capricioi:s. Perhaps I am fo. But 
 there is a fomething (we cannot always fay what) 
 that attracts or difgufts us. Difgufts ! madam — 
 difgufls ! Mifs Byron, cried he. 1 fpoke in ge- 
 neral. Sir, replied the lady; I dare fay, nineteen 
 women out of twenty would think themfelves fa- 
 voured in the addrefles of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen* 
 You, Sir, may have more merit, perhaps, thaa 
 the man I may happen to approve of better, but 
 — fhall I fay ? added fhe; pardon me. Sir, you 
 do not — you do not hit my fancy. If pardon 
 depends upon my breath, cried he, let me die,, 
 die if I do ! — Not hit your fancy, madam ! (and 
 then he looked upon himfelf all round) Not h'lti 
 your fancy, madam ! 
 
 In fhort, Sir Hargrave, cxafperated at the 
 thoughts of her rejedting fo accompHflied a perfon 
 as himfelf, behaved with great infolence, and 
 charged her with pride, cruelty and ingratitude, 
 when the lady, not v/illing to ftay to be iniulted, 
 begged his excufc, and withdrew in hafte. 
 
 1 he baronet foon paid Mifs Byron another vifit 
 to apologize for his behaviour in the laft, and then 
 making vehement profcflions of love, oftcred to 
 make her large fettlements, and told her, that (he 
 Ihould prcfcribc to him In every thing, as to place 
 
 ©f 
 
( 45 ) 
 
 of refidence, excurfions, even to her going 
 abroad to France, to Italy, and wherever fhe 
 pleafed. To all v^^hich fhe anfwered as before; 
 and when he infifted upon her reafons for re- 
 fufing him, frankly told him, that (he owned it 
 was with fome relucStance, that (he had not the 
 opinion of his morals that fhe muft have of thofe 
 of the man on whom fhe muft build her hopes 
 of prefent happinefs, and to whofe guidance in- 
 truft her future. Sir Hargrave ftormed, repeating 
 my morals, madam ; you have no opinion of 
 my morals, madam, and after fhewing feveral 
 menacing airs, departed abruptly. 
 
 As Mifs Byron had never been in London be- 
 fore, Lady Betty Williams, a near relation of 
 Mr. Reeves, infifted on accompanying Mifs 
 Byron to a ball at the opera-houfe in the Hay- 
 market, and of providing her with a drefs. Mr. 
 Reeves was a hermit, Mrs. Reeves, a nun. Lady 
 Betty, a. lady abbefs, and Mifs Byron an Arca- 
 dian princefs : fhe had a white Paris net-cap, 
 glittering with fpangles, and incircled by a chap- 
 let of artificial flowers, with a fmall white flower 
 on the left fide. Her hair hung down in natural 
 ringlets to fhade her neck. A kind of waiftcoat 
 of blue fattin trimmed with filver point d'Efpagne 
 the Ikirts edged with filver fringe ; this waift- 
 coat was made to fit clofe to her waift by filver 
 clafps ; there was a fmall filver clafp at the end 
 of each clafp, and all was fet ofF with bugles 
 and fpangles. A kind of fcarf of white Perfian 
 fijk was fattened to her fhoulders, which flew 
 loofe behind. Her petticoat was of blue fat- 
 tin, trimmed and fringed as her waiftcoat. — 
 
( 46 ) 
 
 She "had a Venetian mask, and bracelets on her 
 arms. 
 
 Mifs Byron took no pleafure in the place, or 
 the flioals of fools that fwarmed about her. 
 The glitter of her drefs, which attraded th« 
 eyes of the obfervers, threw her into confu- 
 fion : the infipid and abfurd behaviour of all 
 around her, made her defpife both herfelf and 
 them. 
 
 About two in the morning Mr. Reeves waited 
 on her to her chair, and faw her into it be- 
 fore he attended I^ady Betty and his wife into 
 theirs ; and obferving that rieither the chair nor 
 .the chairmen were th<'fe who brought iier, he 
 asked the meaning of it, and was told by her 
 fervant, who had been hired but a few days be- 
 .fore, that the chairmen had been inveigled 
 away to drink, and that he having waited two 
 hours, and not returning, he had hired a chair 
 to fupply their place. The chair moved off 
 with the fervant with his lighted flambeau be- 
 fore it. The chairmen had carried her a great 
 ■ way, when calling out feveral times, they ftopt, 
 and her fervant asked her commands. Where am 
 I, William ? faid fhe, Jufl at home, madam, 
 he anfweied -, and oji her obferving that they 
 muft have come a round-about way, he told 
 her that they had done fo on purpofe to avoid 
 the crowd of chairs and coaches. They pro- 
 ceeded onv/::i jS, but prefently after undrawing 
 the curtains, and finding herfelf in the open 
 fields, and foon after the lights put out, fhe 
 pierced the night air with her fcreams, till {he 
 could fcream no more. She was at laft taken 
 out in fits, and when ihe came a little to her 
 
 fenffj 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 fenfes, fne found herfelf on a bed'with three wo- 
 men about her ; one at her head holding a bottle 
 to her nofe, her noftrils fore v/ith hartfhorn, and 
 a ftrong fmell of hurt feathers ; but no man near 
 her. 
 
 Where am I ? Who are you, madam ? were 
 the firft queftions fhe asked. No harm is in- 
 tended you, faid the eldefl of them ; you are 
 to be made one of the happleft of women. We 
 would not be concerned in a bad a6ion. I 
 hope not; I hope not returned fhe, you feem to 
 be a mother ; thefe young gentlewomen, I pre- 
 fume are your daughters. Save me from ruin, 
 I befeech you, madam ; fave me from ruin as 
 you would ycur daughters. This muft be the 
 vile contrivance of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen. Is 
 it not ? Is it not ? Tell me ; I beg of you to 
 tell me. 
 
 Mifs Byron then arofe, and fat on the fide of 
 the bed ; and at that moment in came the vile 
 Sir Hargrave. She fcreamed out. He threv/ 
 himfelf at her feet ; but firding that the women 
 could hardly keep her out of a fit, retired. On 
 her reviving, fhe began to beg and offer rewards 
 if they would facilitate her efcape. But fhe had 
 hardly began to fpeak before Sir Hargrave enter- 
 ed again, and, with greater haughtinefs than 
 before, bid her not needlefsly terrify hctfdf, 
 and told the women they might withdraw. As 
 they went out, fhe pufhed by the mother, and 
 between the daughters, followed the foremofl 
 into the parlour, and then funk down on her 
 knees, wrapping her arms about her, and crying, 
 O fave me ! fave me I 
 
 Six 
 
( 4« ) 
 
 Sir Hargrave entered, when Mifs Byron leav- 
 ing the room, and kneeling to him, if you have 
 mercy, if you have compaflion, let me now, 
 now, I befeech you, fir, experience your mercy. 
 The women again withdrew, and he anfwered, 
 I have befought you, madam, and on my knees 
 too, to ihew me mercy ; but none would you 
 fhew mc. Kneel, if you will, in your turn. 
 Now are the tables turned. Barbarous man ! 
 faid (he, rifing from her knees ; but her fpirits 
 inftantly fubfiding. Be not, I befeech you. Sir 
 Hargrave, cruel to me, I never was cruel to any 
 -body, you know I was civil to you. Yes, yes, 
 and very determined, he returned ; you called 
 me no names. I call you none, Mifs Byron, 
 Sweet creature, added he, clafping his arms 
 about her; your very terror is beautiful ! I can 
 enjoy your terror, madam j and then offering ta 
 kifs her, fhe turned afide her head ; on which he 
 added, I don'.t hit your fancy, madam ! You 
 don't like my morals, madam ! 
 
 And is this the way. Sir Hargrave, faid fhe, 
 are thefethe means you take to convince me that 
 I ought to like them ? Well, madam, cried he, 
 you fhall prove the mercy in me, you would not 
 fhew. Be mine, madam, be legally mine. I 
 offer you my honeft hand : confent to be Lady 
 
 PoUcxfen. No punifhment, hope — or take 
 
 the confequence. — What, fir, faid fhe, weeping 
 bitterly, and threw herfelf trembling on the 
 window feat, juftify by fo poor, fo very poor a 
 compliance, fteps that you have fo bafely taken ! 
 Take my life, fir, but my hand and my heart 
 are my own ; they never fhall be feparated. You 
 cannot fly me, madam, he replied j you are fe- 
 
 curely 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 icti rely mine ; and mine flill more fecurety yoa 
 Ihall be. Doii't provoke me; don't make ms 
 defperate. 
 
 Then throwing hirafelf at her feet, he em- 
 braced her knees with his arms. She was ter- 
 rified and Icreamed, and in, ran one of the 
 daughters, crying. Good fir ! Pray, fir !— Did you 
 not fay you would be honourable ? The mother 
 followed her in, Sir, fir ! in my houfe - 
 
 What a plague, cried he, do you come in 
 for? I thought you knew your own fex better 
 than to mind a woman's fqualling. 1 have not 
 offered the leafi: rudenefs. Dear blefled, bkfied 
 woman, cried the lady frantic, with mingled 
 terror and joy, to find herfelf in better hands 
 than {he expelled. Prote6^ me ! Save me ! In- 
 deed I have not deferved this treacherous treat- 
 ment. Nay, dear lady, the woman returned, 
 if Sir Hargrave will make you his true and law- 
 ful wife, there can be no harm done, furely. 
 She then turning to him, told him, the gentle- 
 man was without. 
 
 Jnftantly entered a mofl horrid looking clergy- 
 man ; he was a tall, big-boned, fplay-footed 
 man, in a fhabby gown, as fhabby a wig, with 
 a huge red pimpled face, and a nofe that, 
 when he looked on one fide, hid half his face. 
 He had a dog's-eared common-prayer-book in 
 his hand, which had once been giit, and 
 which was opened at the page of matrimony. 
 
 She was fo intent on making a friend when a 
 
 clergyman appeared, that paying yet but littl» 
 
 attention to his horrid vifage, fiie pu'ned bv Sir 
 
 Hargrave, turning him half round with her ve- 
 
 D hemence' 
 
( so ) ' 
 
 hemence, and maklns: the woman of the houft 
 totter, when throwing herfelf at the clergyman's 
 feet, Man of God! Good, dear, reverend fif ! 
 cried fhe, fave a poor creature, bafely tricked 
 nway from her friends — fave me from violence ! 
 Give not your aid to fandify a bafe aft. 
 
 The man fnuffled his anfwer through his nofe, 
 and when he opened his pouch mouth, the to- 
 bacco hung about his great yellow teeth. He 
 fquinted upon her, and taking her clafped hands, 
 which were buried in his fifl-. Rife, madam ! 
 faid he ; kneel not to me ! No harm is intended 
 you. One queftion only. Who is that gentle- 
 man before me, in filver-laced clothes ? He is 
 Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, fir, faid fhe; a wicked, 
 a very wicked man. O madam ! returned he, 
 a very hon-our-able man ! bowing, like a fyco- 
 phant, to Sir Hargrave. Then asking her 
 name, and fhe telling it him ; Sir Hargrave took 
 her hand, and thefnuiflingprieft began: " Dear- 
 ly beloved." 
 
 The lovely Mifs Byron again behaved like 
 one frantic, and crying, Read no more ! dafhed 
 the book out of his hand ; I beg your pardon, 
 fir ! but you muft read no further. I am bafely 
 betrayed hither. I cannot, I will not be his. 
 Proceed, proceed, fir, faid Sir Hargrave, taking 
 her hand by force ; virago as fhe is, I will own 
 her for my wife. " Dearly beloved," again 
 fnuffled the minifter. She ftamped, and threw 
 herfelf to the length of her arm, as Sir Hargrave 
 held her flruggling hand, crying No dearly be- 
 loveds ; and the minifter proceeded, " We are 
 gathered together in the fight of God." 1 ad- 
 jure you, fir, faid ibc, by that God in whofe 
 
 fight 
 
{ 5' ) 
 
 Jight yau read we are gathered together^ to pro- 
 ceed no further. I adjure you, Sir Hargrave, in 
 the fame tremendous name, that you ftop fur- 
 ther proceedings. My life take, with all my 
 heart take my life ; but my hand never, never 
 will I join with yours. Proceed dodlor : do6i:or 
 pray proceed, faid tht vile Sir Hargrave. When 
 'the day dawns (he will be glad to own her mar- 
 liage. Proceed at your peril, fir, faid fhe. If 
 you are really a minifter of God, do not pro- 
 ceed. Do not make me defperate. Madam, 
 
 turning to the window, you are a mother, and 
 iiave given me room to hope you are a good wo- 
 man ; look upon me as if I were one of thofe 
 
 daughters whom I fee before me. .-Could you 
 
 fee one of them thus treated ?— —-Dear young 
 women, turning to each, can you unconcerned- 
 ly look on and fee a young creature tricked, be- 
 trayed, and thus violently, bafely treated, and 
 not make my cafe your own ? Speak for me I 
 Plead for me: each of you, if you are women, 
 as you would yourfelves willi to be pleaded for 
 fn my circumftances, and were thus barbaroufly 
 ufed !— A fonl, gentlewomen, you have to an- 
 fwer for, I can die j but never, never will I be 
 his. 
 
 The young women wept, and the mother be- 
 ing moved, defired that they might talk to the 
 lady by themfelves. This was granted, and re- 
 tiring into another room, they pleaded Sir Har- 
 grave's great eftate, his honourable love, his 
 handfome perfon, her danger, and their being 
 unable to fave her from worfe treatment, Mifs 
 Byron on the other hand, pleaded, her contempt 
 9f riches, her invincible averfion, and then cried, 
 D 2 How! 
 
( 52 ) 
 
 How ! — Not able ! Ladies, is not this your 
 o.wn houfe ? Cannot you raife your neighbours ? 
 Have you no neighbours ? A thoufand pounds 
 wi!l I order to be paid into your hands for a 
 prefent before the week is out ; I pledge my 
 honour for the payment ; if you will but fave 
 from a violence, that no worthy woman can fee 
 offered to a diftrefled creature ! — A thoufand 
 pounds — dear ladies ! only to fave me, and fee 
 me fafe to my friends ! 
 
 The wretches in the next room heard all that 
 paiTed, and at that moment came in Sir Hargrave, 
 and with a vifage fwtlled v/ith malice, defired 
 that the young women might go to bed, and 
 leave him to talk with the perverfe beauty. He 
 called her cruel, proud and ungrateful, and 
 fwore that if (he would not allow him to exalt 
 her into Lady Pollexfen, he would humble her. 
 Pray, Sir, faid the youngeft of the two daugh- 
 ters, and wept. Greatly hart, indeed, faid he, 
 to be the wife of a man of my fortune and confe- 
 quence ! But leave her to me, I fay, — I will 
 bring down her pride. What a devil am 1 to 
 creep, beg, pray, intreat, and only for a wife ? 
 But, Madam, faid the infolent wretch, you will 
 be mine upon eafier terms, perhaps. 
 
 Sir Hargrave then led the mother and youngeft 
 daut^hter to thedooi, ^he eldeft following them 
 of her own accord. Mifs Byron befought them 
 not to go, and when they did, would have thruft 
 herfelf out with them ; but the wretch Sir Har- 
 grave, in (hutting them out, fqucezed her dread- 
 fully, as fhe was half in, half out; and her nofe 
 gufhcd out with blood, her ftomach was very 
 jcvuch prefTed, and one of her arms bruifed ; fhe 
 
 fcreamed 5 
 
C S3 ) 
 
 fc reamed J he feemed frighted ; but inflantly re- 
 covering herleir, So, fo, cried flie, you have 
 killed me, I hope. — Well, now I hope, now I 
 hope, you are fatisfied. 1 forgive you ; only 
 leave me to my own fex. She was, indeed, in 
 violent pain, her head fwam, her eyes failed her, 
 and file fainted away. 
 
 SirHargrave was in the mofh dreadful conder- 
 nation, running about the room, and calling 
 upon God to have mercy upon him ; having lee 
 in the women, they lamented over her^ faying, 
 fhe had death in her face. But SirHargrave, in 
 the midfi: of his terror, was careful of his own 
 fafety, for feizing her bloody handkerchief, he 
 faid, if fhe did not recover, that fhould not aj)- 
 pear againft him, ^nd hadening into the ricxc 
 room, he thrull: it into the fire ; by whloh were 
 fitting the minifter and his helper, over fome 
 burnt brandy. O gentlemen ! cried he, nothing 
 can be done to-night. Take this, giving them 
 money. The lady is in a fit. I wifh you well 
 home. They however propofed to fit in the 
 chimney-corner till peep of day ; but the women 
 not thinking lier likely to recover, one of them 
 ran into them, and declared that the lady was 
 dead, on which, calling for another dram, they 
 fnatched up their hats and flicks, and away they 
 hurried. 
 
 When the lady came to herfelf, fhe found no- 
 body but the three women with her ; fhe was in 
 a cold fweat, and as there was no fire in the 
 room, they led her into the parlour which the 
 two men had quitted, and placed her in an elbow 
 chair ; for (he could hardly ftand or fupport her- 
 felf, and then chafed her temples with Hungary- 
 D 3 water. 
 
f 54 ) 
 
 water. The mother and eldefl fifl-er left her fcfOH 
 after and went to Sir Hargrave, and at length the 
 youngeft fiftcr was called out, and inftantly came 
 in Sir Hargrave, who took a chair and fat down 
 by Mils Byron, biting his lips, and looking at 
 her from time to time as in malice, fhe ftill feel- 
 ing a violent pain in her ftomach arwl arms. 
 
 At lad the lady broke filence, refolving not to 
 provoke him to do her father mifchief. — Well, 
 have you done. Sir Hargrave, to commit fuch 
 violence upon a pooryounsT creature that neyer 
 did nor thought you evil ? What difl:ra<5lion hav« 
 you grven to my coufin Reeves ! She ftopt,. and 
 he continued filent. Thefe people. Sir, feem to 
 be honed people. I hope you defigned only to 
 terrify me. Your bringing me into no worfe 
 compirny is an afTu ranee to me that you meant 
 i)ettcr, than — Dtvils all ! — interrupted he — Sh^ 
 again flopt, and prefently after refumed, I forgive 
 you, Sir, the pain you have given me.— But my 
 friends — as foon as day breaks I will get thf 
 wom?n to let my coufm Reeves — 
 
 Then up he ftarted : Mifs Byron, proceeded 
 he, after a paufe, you are the mofl confummat« 
 hvpocrite rhat I ever knew in my life. She was 
 filcnt and trembled. Damn'd fool ! afs ! block- 
 head ! woman's fool ! cried he, I could curfe my- 
 fclf for fending away the parfon. But your arts, 
 your hypocrify, ihall not ferve you, madam. 
 What 1 failed in here, fhall be done elfewhere. 
 She wept, but could not fpcak. Can't you go 
 into fits again ? Can't you ? cried he, with an 
 air of a piece with his words. God deliver me, 
 prayed fhc to herfelf, from the hands of this mad- 
 ■nan ! She aiofe, and as the candle flood near the 
 
 S;lai^» 
 
f 55 ) 
 
 glafs, fBe faw h^rfelf in the habit, to which /lie 
 had till then paid little attention. Pray, Sir 
 Hargrave, faid fhe, let me beg that you will not 
 terrify me father. I will forgive you for what 
 you have hitherto done, and place it to my own 
 account, as a proper punifhment for confenting 
 to be thus marked for a vain and foolifh creature. 
 Your abufe, Sir, give me leave to fay, is low 
 and unmanly j but in the light of a punifhment 
 i will own it to be all deferved. Let my punifh^^ 
 ment end here, and I will thank you, and for- 
 ,give you with my whole heart. He told her^ 
 that her fate was determined, and a fervant- 
 maid giving him a capuchin, he repeated. Your 
 fate is determined, madam — Here, put this on— 
 Now fall into fits again ! — Put this on. 
 
 In fhort, (he again begged, prayed, and would 
 have kneeled to him ; but all in vain ; the ca- 
 puchin was put on, whether fhe would or no, 
 and afterwards being muffled up in a man's cloak, 
 in fpight of all her ftruggles, prayers, and re- 
 fiftance, he lifted her into a chariot and fix, 
 which was brought to the door. There wer«' 
 feveral men on horfeback, among whom was her 
 own fervant, and Sir Hargrave entering, faid to 
 that fellow. You know what tale to tell if you 
 meet with impertinents ; and on her fcreaming 
 out, he upbraidingly cried. Scream on, my dear, 
 and barbaroufly mocked her, imitating the bleat-, 
 ingofafiieep. Then rear-inghimfelf up, cried, 
 exulting. Now am I lord of Mifs Byron ! 
 
 At the firft fetting out, fhe once or twice cried 
 out for help j when, under the pretence of pre- 
 venting her taking cold, he tied a handkerchief 
 over her face, head and mouth, and having firft 
 D 4 mufflef 
 
( 5<> ) 
 
 BiuMcd her up in the cloak, leaning againff hen' 
 with his whole weight, he held both her hands 
 in his left hand, while his right arm, being 
 thrown round her, kept heron the feat. When 
 flie called out for help at the approach of paffen- 
 gers, fhe heard one of the men reprefent SirHar- 
 grave as the beft of hufbands, and herfelf as the 
 worft of wives. Thus did every glimmering ray 
 of hope vanifh from her mind. 
 
 Sir Charles Grandifon nowexpe£ling Lord and 
 Lady L. who were returning from Scotland, had 
 ieen to that nobleman's feat at Colnebrook, 
 where he had left his fifter Charlotte, to feeeverjr 
 thing put in order for their reception, and was re- 
 turning to town in his chariot and fix, whea. 
 meeting Sir Hargrave's chariot, the coachmaa 
 ifeemed inclined to difpiite the way, and Sir Har- 
 •grave looking out to fee the oecafion, the lady 
 .found means to d^fengage one hand, and qh 
 hearing a gentleman d^iredling his coachman to 
 -give way, flie pufhed up the handkerchief from 
 her mouth, and down from her eyes, and cried 
 •out, Help, help, for God's fake. The gentle- 
 man ordered his coachman to flop, and Sir Har- 
 'grave, curfing his coachman, criedi Drive on ; 
 drive on when I bid you. The lady again cried 
 out for help, when Sir Charles ordered his (er-- 
 •vanrs on horfeback to flop the poftilion of the 
 •other chariot, and" bid Sir Hargrave's coachman 
 proceed at his peril. Sir Hargrave, with vehe- 
 ment execrations, continued calling out, on the 
 contrary fide of the chariot to that Sir Charles 
 -v/as on. Upon which Sir Charles alighted, 
 walked round to the other fide, and the lady en^ 
 tlcavouring to cry out, he faw Sir . Hargrave 
 ■ , ; - flruggla. 
 
C 57 ) 
 
 Uruggle to put the handkerchief over her mouth, 
 fwearing outragioufly. And the lady inftanti/ 
 feeing the ftranger, fpread out both her hands, 
 repeating. For God's fake — Sir Hargrave PoIIex- 
 fen, by heavens, Aiid Sir Charles. You are en- 
 gaged, I doubt, in a very bad affair. I am Sir 
 Hargrave Pollex fen, and carrying away a fugitive 
 wife. — Your own wife. Sir Hargrave? Yes, faid 
 he, fwearing by his Maker; and (he was going 
 to elope from me at a damned mafquerade. See ! 
 drawing afide the cloak, dete(5^ed in the very 
 drefs ! O no 1 no! no! faid the lady. Proceed, 
 coachman, cried Sir Hargrave, and curfed and 
 fwore. Let me afk the lady a quelHon, Sir Har- 
 grave ? You are impertinent, Sir, faid the vil- 
 lain. Who the devil are you ? Are you, madam. 
 Lady Pollexfen ? faid Sir Charles. O no ! no! 
 no I v/as all fhe could fay. 
 
 Two of Sir Charles's fervants inftantly rode up 
 to him, and the third held the head of the borfe 
 on which the poflilioa fat. Three of Sir Har- 
 grave's approached on their horfes ; but feemed 
 .as if afraid of comir.g too near, and parlicd to- 
 gether. Have an eye to thofe fellows, faid Sir 
 Charles ; fome bafe work is on foot ; and then 
 addrelTing himfelf to Sir Hargrave's coachman, 
 who lafned his horfes on, cried, Sirrah, proceed 
 at your peril. Sir Hargrave then, with violent 
 curfes and threatnings, ordered him to drive over 
 every one that opoofed him. And Sir Charles 
 bidding him proceed at his peril, turned to the 
 lady, faying. Madam, will you — O Sir, Sir, 
 Sir, cried (he, relieve, help me, for God's fake! 
 I am in a villain's hands ! tricked, vilely tricked 
 iato a villain's hands. Help, help, for God'* 
 Ds fakel. 
 
( 58 ) 
 
 fake! Sir Hargrave then drew his fword, an<i 
 culled upon his fcrvants to fire at all that oppofed 
 his pafTage. My fervants, Sir, faid Sir Charles, 
 have fire-arms as well as yours. They will not 
 difpute my orders. Don't provoke me to give 
 the word. Then addrefling the lady. Will you, 
 madam, put yourfelf into my protedtion ? O yes, 
 vcs, Sir, faid fhe, with my whole heart — dear 
 Sir, protect me ? 
 
 Sir Charles then opening the chariot-door. Sir 
 Hargrave made a pafs at him, crying, Take that, 
 for your infolence, fcoundrel ; but Sir Charles 
 being aware of the thrufl, put it by j the fword, 
 howe\cr, raked his fhoulder. His own fword 
 was in his hand, but undrawn, and the chariot 
 door remaining open, he feizcd Sir Hargrave by 
 the collar before he could recover himfelf from 
 the pafs he had made j and with a jerk, and a 
 kind of twift, laid him under the hind wheel of 
 his chariot. Then wrenching his fword from 
 him, he fnapped it, and flung the two pieces 
 over his head. 
 
 Mifs Byron, notwithflanding thediforderof heB 
 mind, had difcngaged hcrfclf from the man's 
 cloak. Sir Charles had not yet the leifure to 
 confider her drefs ; he was, however, (truck with 
 the beauty of her perfon, but flill more with her 
 terror. He offered her his hand, but thought not 
 now of the fooiftcp, any more than before; nor 
 did fhc think of any thing but her deliverance | 
 for, inftead of accepting his offered hand, fh« 
 threw herfelf into his arms, and was ready to 
 faint. He carried her round Sir Hargrave*s 
 horfcs, and fcated her in his chariot, affuring her, 
 wat ihe was in honourable hands, and that he 
 
 would 
 
( S9 ) 
 
 would convey her to his fifter, a young lady (jf 
 .virtue and honour ; and {hutting the door, begged 
 her to fear nothing, for he vi^ouid attend her in a 
 moment. 
 
 Sir Hargrave's men had fled, and Sir Charles's 
 having purfued them a little way, were returning 
 to fupport their mafler, when bidding one of 
 them tell Sir Hargrave who he was, he ftepped 
 back to his chariot, where he found the lady funk 
 djpwn through terror to the bottom of it, where 
 fhe lay panting, and could only fay at his ap- 
 proach. Save me ! fave me ! 
 
 hir Charles re-alTured her^ lifted her on the 
 feat, and carried her to his fifter. Mifs Char- 
 lotte was too much furprifed at her brother's un- 
 expefted return, and too much afFecSted with the 
 diforder vifible in -the lady's countenance, to give 
 much attention at fir ft to her drefs. She found 
 her trembling as (he fat, and Sir Charles, in a 
 very tender manner, afTuring her of his and his 
 filler's kindeft prote£iion ; on which that lady 
 faluting her, bid her thrice welcome to that 
 houfe. Mifs Byron, too deeply humbled by her 
 <liftrefs, threw herfelf on her knees to Mifs Char- 
 lotte ; when Sir Charles and that lady having 
 raifed her to her feat. You fee before you, 
 Madam, faid fhe, a ftrange creature, and looked 
 at her drefs ; but I hope you will believe I am an 
 jnnocent one, Tnis vile appearance was not mv 
 choice. Fie upon me! I muft be thus drefled 
 put for a mafquerade; hated diverfion I I never 
 had a notion of it. Think not hardly, Sir, 
 added fhe, her hands clafped and held up, of her 
 whom you have fo generouily delivered. Think 
 
 flQt 
 
( 6o ) 
 
 .•not. hardly of me, Madam, turning to her. 1 
 am not a bad creature. That vite, vite man ! 
 
 Charlotte, faid Sir Charles, you will make it 
 your fiift care to raife the fpirits of this injured 
 beauty ; your next to take her direftions, and 
 inform her friends of her fafety. Such an adr 
 mirable young lady as this cannot be mifled an 
 hour without exciting the fears of all her friends 
 for her. T'hen fending for a very eminent phy- 
 fician, and repeating that flie was in honourable 
 hands, and that his fifter would take pleafure in 
 obliging her, he took his leave. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Reeves were in the greatellt 
 conflernation, when at their coming home from 
 the mafquerade, they found not Mifs Byron at 
 home. 7"h^y inftantly fent to the Lady Betty's 
 who could give thehi no information. Every 
 method that could be thought of was taken to 
 difcover the place to which (he was carried, but 
 without efFecft, till they received a letter from 
 Mifs Grandifon, by which they were informed 
 that fhe had been cruelly treated, but was nov7 
 in fafe and honourable hands, and that though 
 ihe was very ill, (he was better than fhe had 
 been. 
 
 Mr. Reeve's- accordingly fet out for Lord L'Sy 
 taking with him a portmanteau filled with Mifs 
 Byron's clothes, and there found his lovely coufin 
 very ill : but filled with gratitude for the favours 
 fhe received from Sir Charles, and his amiable 
 fifter. 
 
 Sir Hargravc was much bruifed by his being 
 pulled in fo forcible a manner out of his chariot; 
 but what was ftill a greater mortification to this 
 Tain fop> was his having three gf his teeth ftruck 
 
( 6i ) 
 
 out with the fall, and his upper lip cut througH,^ 
 and which he was obliged to have fewed up. 
 He vowed revejige againft Sir Charles, and was 
 no fooner recovered than he fent him a challenge. 
 But Sir Charles, though perfectly fkilled in all 
 "the ofFenfive weapons, was refolved never to- 
 inake ufe of them except in his ovi^n defence. 
 He knew that duelling was contrary both to the 
 laws of God and to fociety, and fearlefs of the 
 "cenfures that might be thrown upon him, vindi-- 
 cated the right he had to guard his own life,, 
 and to fpare himfelf the guilt of murder ; y©C 
 juftified what he had done, and boldly aflerted,, 
 that was he. to find Sir Hargrave again guilty of 
 a notorious violation of the. laws of juftice and 
 "humanity, he would again exert himfelf, in cru- 
 der to fave the innocent from his brutality. 
 
 Sir Charles and hisfifter Charlotte, greatly de- 
 lighted with the converfation, the delicate fenti-- 
 ments, and many engaging qualities of their' 
 lovely gueft, grew extremely fond of her; to* 
 fhew their aiFedion they gave her the title of ^ 
 fifter ; and on Lord and Lady L's arrival, after 
 Mifs Byron's return to Mr. Reeves, they were 
 condudted thither by Sir Charles and Mifs Char- 
 lotte, that they might fee and acknowledge their 
 new relation. Mifs Byron's mind was filled 
 with gratitude to her generous benefador, and- 
 Avith an admiration of his virtues that admitted 
 of daily increafe, and which by the familiarity 
 allowed by that virtuous friendfhip which fub- 
 fifted between her and Sir Charles, together with 
 Xord and Lady L. and Mifs Grandifon, inftantly 
 ripened into love. All thefe perfons feemed to 
 le a^uated by gjie igul^ Sir Charles was as 
 
 thfe 
 
( 62 ) 
 
 t!tc tender friend, as the afFe£lionate brother ; 
 and Lord L. his Lady and her fifter, confidered 
 him not only as their brother, but as their bet- 
 ter father, and gloried in their relation to him as 
 their higheft honour. He, upon every new oc- 
 cafion that called for his virtues, was the fubje^t 
 of their praife ; and Mifs Byron frequently re- 
 ading at Lord L's feat for fevcral days together, 
 'was informed of all the circumftances of his life^ 
 that had come to their knowledge. 
 ■ In one of thefe vifits to Lord L's, when Mifs 
 "Byron was enjoying with the ladies of Sir 
 .'Charles's family all the delights that arife from 
 ,an unreferved fympathy of foul, their brother 
 fuddenly fet out for Canterbury, without ac- 
 quainting them with the rcafcn of his journey. 
 They at nrft imagined that he might be carried 
 there by love, and Mifs Byron fuffered fome lit- 
 tle inquietude on that fuppofition ; but on his 
 return they were informed of the following par- 
 ticulars : Mr. Danby, the French merchant, 
 whcfe life Sir Chnrles had faved when in France, 
 t>eing in a languifhing ftatc, was defirous to die 
 in his native country, and accordingly landed 
 at Dover ; but being obliged to ftop at Canter- 
 bury, in his way to town, fent for Sir Charles, 
 and yielded to the common dcftiny ; his body 
 was afterv/ards brought to town. He had two 
 nephews and a niece, who owed to him their 
 education, to each of v/hom he Iv.]d given a 
 thoufand pounds, to put the your r men out ap- 
 prentices to merchants of credit, and enable 
 them to make a reputable apj '.'anmce ; and he 
 had made them hope, that at his death, he would 
 leave each of them three thoufand pounds more, 
 
 but 
 
C 63 ) 
 
 but on the attempt made upon his life by vil- 
 lains fet at work by his wicked brother, the fa- 
 ther of thofe nephews and that niece, of which 
 they, however, were innocent, he left the bulk 
 of his fortune, which was very confiderable, to 
 Sir Charles, and made him his executor and 
 refiduary legatee, after bequeathing to each of 
 the three, one thoufand pounds ; making fome 
 generous remembrances to three of his friends 
 in France, and requeftinghis executor to difpofe 
 of three thoufand to charitable ufes, either in. 
 France or England, as he thought, and to what 
 particular objects he pleafed. 
 
 Sir Charles, had he ftriilly executed this will,, 
 would have been a confiderable gainer, as Mr. 
 Danby's effedls in money, bills, flocks, and 
 jewels, amounted to upwards of thirty thoufand 
 pounds : but though he was a little offended 
 that neither of Mr. Danby's nephews nor his 
 niece attended the funeral,, to which he had in- 
 vited them ; nor were prefent at the opening 
 of the will, though he fent to them for that 
 purpofe, he was refolved to make up the defeds,. 
 occafioned on the one hand by a refentment ex- 
 tended to the innocent, and on the other, by 
 what Sir Charles thought too deep a fenfe of 
 gratitude for the timely affiflance he had afford- 
 ed him.- Sir Charles, therefore defired Mr. Syl- 
 >efler, their attorney, who came to excufe their 
 attendance, to advife the young people to re- 
 colleil themfelves, telling him, that he was dif- 
 pofed to be kind to them, and wifhed they 
 would, with marks of confidence in him, give 
 him a particular account of their viewSj profpe<Sts 
 liUid engagememst 
 
 Mr. 
 
( «v ) 
 
 Mr: Sylvefter h. d not been gone above two 
 Hours, when he fent a note to Sir Charles, de- 
 fining to be permitted to vv it on him that fame 
 evening with fome of his clients. They were 
 received with marks of- refpe^l, and then they 
 were a(k<.d what were their expectations from 
 their uncle ? The two young gentlemen told 
 Sir Charles, that his father had promifed to give 
 them as much as would fet them up in trade, 
 and as for the young lady, {he was to have been 
 married to the Ton of a merchant. 
 
 Sir Charles, with all the good nature that 
 muft forever mark the character of the man of ^ 
 true generofity, told the young gentlemen, th^t 
 they ihould have five thoufand pounds each, be- 
 fides fuch legacies as had been left for them, 
 and their fifler was to have the fame fum as a 
 marriage portion. He concluded by telling them 
 that he v/ould not only give them the above 
 fums, but alio, that on all future occafions, he 
 would be ready to ferve them, upon which they 
 burfl into tears. 
 
 Sir Charles finding diat his prcfence rather 
 made them uneafy, withdrew for fome time to 
 his ftudy, but foon after returned, and told them, 
 that the pleafure he felt in being cf fervice to 
 them was more than he could exprefs, and that 
 the confcicufnefs thereof was a fufficient reward. 
 He defired the young genilemen, as they were 
 now entering upon bufinefs, to take refigioii 
 along witi. them, and with all their dealings 
 with others, to temper juftice with mercy, efpe- 
 cially when debts were due to them, and not to 
 take fuch advantages as would gn «ny account 
 
 ruiu ^ 
 
{ 65 y 
 
 luin thofe who had in fome inftanccs been un^ 
 fortunate. 
 
 The brothers declared that his conduct fhoulil 
 be the example that they would conftantly imit- 
 tate, and the young lady could only exprefs her^ 
 gratitude by her looks. When he difmifled 
 them, he told them, that he hoped they would 
 let him hear from them foon, and in the meaa 
 time he would take care to perform all that he 
 had promifed. 
 
 Mifs Byron was charmed at fuch generofity, 
 in one who had delivered her from confine- 
 ment ; and Sir Charles's fifter told her that fuch 
 was the conftant condud of their brother. They 
 knew that Mifs Byron was a moil amiable young 
 lady; but they had fome fufpicion that their 
 brother was in love with fome foreign beauty. 
 In order to difcbver the real ftate of their bro- 
 ther's mind, they applied for information to the 
 .good Dr. Bartlet, who was well acquainted 
 .with every particular, but the do(£lor referred 
 them to their brother. Accordingly they afked 
 him. Whether he had any thoaghts of marriage? 
 but at that time he gave th^m no anfwer. In a 
 few days after he fent for Mifs Byron into Lord 
 
 L- 's ftudy, and repeated the whole ftory 
 
 to her. of Clementina ; at which fhe was very 
 much afFe(5led ; and confidered herfelf as anuria 
 happy flave to a fruitlefs paflion. 
 
 Sir Charleswent next day to vifit Mifs Byron^ 
 at the houfe of her uncle Reeves, and told her, 
 :th^t,the bifhop, brother of Clementina, had fent 
 him a letter, earneftly defiring that he would 
 .once more return to Bologna^ He added, that - 
 ; although the marchionefs had feconded there- 
 
 queft: 
 
( 66 ) 
 
 ^ueflof her fon, yet the reft of the family, parti- 
 cularly the general, were of a very different 
 ©pinion ; for religion, or rather fuperftition, was 
 the reigning motive that gave life to all their 
 aelions, and kept their minds in a ftate of 
 flavery. 
 
 They had taken their daughter Clementina to 
 XJrbino, in- order to divert her melancholy, and 
 from thence to Naples, where they embarked fot 
 Leghorn, and then returned to Bologna rfirough 
 Florence. She was again fent back to Florence, 
 where fhe was put under the direcSlion of the 
 lady Sforza and her daughter Laura, who becaufe 
 €>f her fuperior accompliihments, treated her with, 
 the utmcfl cruelty^ 
 
 Her maid Laura, who contiiuued to attend her, 
 was always fent out of the way when any cruelty 
 was to be infli<Sl:ed on the young lady. One day 
 when th« honeft fervaat was (hut out of her lady's 
 apartment, fhe liftened at the door, and heard 
 Laura calling her by th« moft opprobrious names,. 
 The poor young lady afked what reafon {he had 
 to ufe her fo, adding, that if God had in any 
 nieafure afHided her, fhe was then an obje6l of 
 pity, and ought not to be treated in fo inhuman 
 a manner. Laura told her that all was done 
 for her good, and with an air of difdain, going 
 ©ut of the room, faid that Ihe would bring the 
 ftrait waiftcoat. 
 
 Poor Clementina was terrified to the utmofl, 
 and therefore hid herfelf under a part of the ftairs, 
 but (he was foon difcovered by her cloaths, and 
 dragged out, after which the waiftcoat was put 
 iipon her, and fhe was confined to her chamber* 
 The fgrvantfeiu an account pf this cruel traufa^lion 
 
 to 
 
C 67 ) 
 
 to father Marefcotti, who was greatly afFecled wit!) 
 it, and on his return to Bologna, told the whole 
 affair to the bifhop, who fent an account thereof 
 to the general, requeuing him to give his af- 
 fiftance in refcuing their fifler from fuch a ItateofT 
 cruel confinement. Accordingly the young lady 
 was releafed, but jhe cruel ufage with which fhe 
 had been treated, had almoft broken herfpirits- 
 
 Mifs Byron wept when fhe heard this narrative, 
 upon which Sir Charles fhewed her another letter 
 from Jeronyrao, which infornaed him that Cle- 
 mentina was in a very dangerous way. Mifs 
 Byron, though in love beyond what fhe could 
 cxprefs, yet turning to Sir Charles, told him that 
 her heart bled for the diflrefTes of the fuffering 
 ]ady. 
 
 He took her to her feat, and pulling a chair for 
 bimfelf, told her that he had received another 
 letter from the bifhop, and in anfwer to it, had 
 fent notice that he would once more return to 
 Italy, to try if he could not, by his advice, fettle 
 the peace of a noble and worthy family. He 
 added, that every thing was ready for his de- 
 parture, and that he had engaged oneof themofl 
 Ikilful furgeons to go along with him, in order 
 to attend Jeronymo. 
 
 Sir Charles having feen his fifler Charlotte 
 
 happily married to Lord G , who had for 
 
 fome time paid his addrefTes to her ; he fettled his- 
 domeflic affairs, and fet out for Italy by the way 
 of France, attended by Mr. Lowther and an emi- 
 nent furgeon. He ftaid no longer at Paris thaa 
 uifl: to pay fome legacies that had been left by 
 Mr. Danby, and there he received an account 
 that Sir Hargrave Pollexfen had been attacked by 
 
 feveral 
 
( 68 ) 
 
 fcvQTaJ ruffians, who v/ere then attempflrig to' 
 murder him. Sir Charles no fooner heard the 
 news, than he rode to the place, attended by 
 three fervants, where he found the gentleman 
 calling out for mercy, while his aflaijants were 
 exerciiing their whips upon him and his com- 
 panion. 
 
 When Sir Charles arrived, he demanded to 
 know what was the reafon they ufed the gentle- 
 men in that manner, upon which they told him 
 to be upon his guard, as each of them had 
 piftols. They demanded a conference^ which 
 Sir Charles granted, upon condition that they 
 would immediately defift from attacking the gen- 
 tleman. The four aflailants then told Sir Charles- 
 that they were not robbers, that they had no in- 
 tention t& commit murder, but that the. perfons 
 whom they wanted to punifh, were a fet of th» 
 moft abandoned villains. At that inftant Mr. 
 Lowther, the furgeon, came up, and Sir Charles 
 having raifed one of the gentlemen, who was all 
 over blood, afked their furgeon whether his 
 wounds were mortals- 
 Mr. Lowther having examined the wound, de-- 
 clared that it was not mortal, upon which Sir 
 Charles turning to the aflailants, told them that 
 he expecled they would fubmit to give an account 
 of their condudl before a proper tribunal. Upon 
 his mentioning thefe words, one of the gentle- 
 men anfwered him, that Sir Hargrave Poilexfen- 
 had attempted, along with fome of his difTolute 
 companions, to violate the chaftity of a lady at 
 Abbeville, and that they were her relations, who 
 had followed the villains, in order to treat them 
 as they deferved. They added,, that all they de- 
 fired,. 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 lired, was, that they would a(k pardon on their 
 knees, and then they were willing to leave them, 
 under his prote6licn, feeing he appeared to be a 
 raan of honour. 
 
 Sir Charles tuniing to SirHargrave, told him, 
 that if he had done wrong, his duty was to ac- 
 knowledge it, hut if not, he would take care 
 that his countryman fhould not be reduced to fa 
 much difgracc in a foreign country. 
 
 Meanueis is theinfeparable companion of wick- 
 ednefs, and no fooner had Sir Charles done fpeak- 
 ing, than they fell on their knees, and a(ked 
 pardon, upon which the ftrangers rode ofF, leaving 
 them to the agonifing pairs and horrors of a guilty 
 confcience. By this time, Sir Margrave's chaife 
 had arrived-, and Sir Charles, with the afliftance 
 of his fervanis, having helped him into it, went 
 to his own, and arrived at the houfe of Count 
 de Belvidere, where be found the bifhop 
 with fome friends waiting for him. Father 
 Marefcotti was along with them, and the 
 Count treated every oneof them with thegreateft 
 civility. Next day they fet out for Italy, taking 
 the Count along with them, who during their 
 journey, told Sir Charles, that fuch was his paf- 
 fion for Clementina, that he could not give her up 
 and therefore hoped that he would leave nothing 
 undone to forward his fuit. 
 
 When they arrived at Bologna, Sir Charles was 
 received with every mark of refpecl:, both by the 
 marquis and marchionefs. Having attended 'with 
 the utr'\oft care to the drei'ling of thofe wounds 
 that Jeronyrno had received, the young nobleman 
 foon recovered, to the great joy of the family, 
 wiio implored every bkfiing on our adventurer, 
 
 and 
 
X 7^ 1 
 
 and commended the furgeon as an angel fent 
 from heaven. Mr. Lowther had an apartment 
 afligned him near that where his patient lodged, 
 and after they had been about five days at Bo- 
 ^logna, Clementina arrived there along w^ith her 
 brother, the general, and his lady, for he had 
 been married a. few weeks, and nothing was to be 
 feen but harmony among all thofe who were 
 members of the family. 
 
 The general who had the highcft notions of 
 -what is called honour, could not bear the 
 thoughts that his fifter ihould be married to an 
 Englifhman, and an heretic, and therefore he 
 rather exprefled himfelf with feeming coldnefs, 
 and even with fome marks of difdain. To all 
 this Sir Charles paid no more regard, than that 
 of taking notice of it, fo that by a nohle triumph 
 over his paffions, he convinced the general that he 
 had a foul fuperior to every thing bordering oa 
 ineannefs. 
 
 Clementina was the pi6lure of filent woe, and 
 although (he had never been wanting in duty to 
 her mother, yet ihe feemed at that time to take 
 no notice of her. In order to drive all melan- 
 choly thoughts out of her mind, it was propofed 
 to have a ball, and Sir Charles was to be intro- 
 duced to her. 
 
 When Clementina came into the company, 
 fhe feemed wild, and having her eyes half fhut, 
 fcarce took any notice of Sir Charles, while her 
 mother wept to fee her in fuch an unhappy flate 
 of mind, and Sir Charles was unable to utter one 
 word. The general was ftung with the deepeft 
 rcmorfe, when he reflected on the part he had 
 acted, and taking his filler by the arm, begged 
 
 that 
 
( 71 ) 
 
 tfliat {he would once more make her relatlonw 
 ihappy. Her parents again fhed tears, while the 
 pious rather Marefcotti faid all he Could to recon- 
 cile her mind to the dilates of reafon and re- 
 ligion. 
 
 In vain, however, did the whole family, as 
 Avell as the confeiTor, endeavour to bring over Sir 
 Charles as a convert to the church of Rome ; he 
 declared that he was fo well convinced of the 
 truth of chriftianity, that nothing fhould ever 
 make him renounce its do61:rines, while he en- 
 joyed the right ufe of his reafon. He told them^ 
 however, that fhe fhould have the freeexercife of 
 her religion, and that her daughters, if Ihe had 
 any, fhould be at her own difpofal, to be edu- 
 cated in her own religion, but all the fons were 
 to be brought up proteftants. 
 
 Thefc difficulties being over, and as the whole 
 family feemed to be reconciled to the match. Sir 
 Charles had not the leafl doubt hut he would 
 receive the heart and hand of his Clementina* 
 But juft at that time the Count Belvidere arrived 
 at Bologna, and having vifited Sir Charles, told 
 him that he could not bear the thoughts of giving 
 vup all that wa?s dear to him in the world, and 
 therefore challenged our hero to fight. This, 
 however, was what Sir Charles would by no 
 means comply with, for although he was not 
 afraid to fight, yet he had too much regard for 
 the principles of our holy religion to venture his 
 life, where there was no occafion for fo doing. 
 
 Next day Sir Charles was introduced to Cle- 
 mentina, who received him in the moft melan- 
 choly attitude, and having put a paper into his 
 hand, dcfired him to leave her^ at the fame time 
 
 returning 
 
( 72 ) 
 
 returning: to her clofet, leaving him unable t* 
 ^xprefs his feniiments. He attempted to follovr 
 her but in vain, for fhe fhut the door, and 
 falling on her knees, prayed that God would de- 
 liver her out of all her troubles. Sir Charles 
 then opened the paper^ and read as follows : 
 
 '' O thou whom my heart beft loveth ; my 
 tutor, my brother, my friend ! feek me not in 
 marriage 1 I am unworthy of thee. Thy foul 
 was ever moft dear to Clementina ; whenever I 
 meditated the graceful nefs of thy perfon, I re- 
 ftrained my eye, I checked my fancy, by medi- 
 tating the fuperior graces of thy mind. And is 
 not that foul, thought I, to be faved ? Dear ob- 
 liinate, and perverfe ! And fliall I bind my foul 
 to a foul allied to perdition ? — O thou moft ami- 
 able of men ! how can I be fure, that, were I 
 thine, thou wouldft not draw me after thee, by- 
 love, by fwectncfs of manners, by condefcend- 
 ing good nefs ? I, who once thought a heretic 
 the worft of beings, have been already led by 
 the amiablenefs of thy piety, by the univerfality 
 of thy charity to all thy fellow creatures, to 
 think more favourably of heretics, for thy fake. 
 Of what force would be the advice of the moft 
 pious confeflbr, were thy condefcending good- 
 nefs, and fweet perfuafion, to be exerted to melt 
 a heart wholly thine ? I know that 1 fhould 
 not forbear arguing with thee, in hopes to con- 
 vince thee ; yet fenfible of thy fuperior powers, 
 and of my duty, might 1 not be entangled ? My 
 confeflbr would, in that cafe, grow uneafy with 
 me. Women love not to be fufpc(5^ed. Oppo- 
 fition arifes from fufpicion and contradiction ; 
 
 thy 
 
( 73 ) 
 
 thy love, thy gentlenefs, thrown in the other 
 fcaie, fhould I not be loft ? O thou v/hom my 
 foul loveth, feek not to entangle me by thy 
 love! 
 
 " Were I to be thine, my duty to thee v/ould 
 miflead me from what I ov/e to my God, and 
 make me more than temporarily unhappy : fince 
 wert thou to convince me at the time, my doubts 
 would return; and whenever thou Vv'ert abfent, 
 I fliould be doubly miferable. For, canft thou, 
 can I, be indifferent in thefe high matters ? Haft 
 thou not fhewn me, that thou canft not ? And 
 fhall I not be beneiited by thy example ? Shall 
 a wrong religion have a force, and eflicacy, up- 
 on thee, which a right one cannot have upon 
 me ? — O thou moft amiable of men ! feek not 
 to entangle me by thy love ! 
 
 *' Biitdoft thou- indeed love me? or is it ow- 
 ing to thy generofity, thy noblenefs, thy com- 
 paflion, for a creature, who, aiming to be great, 
 like thee, could not fuftain the effort ? I call 
 upon the blcfled Virgin, to witnefs, how I for- 
 merly ftruggled with myfelf ! how much 1 en- 
 deavoured to fubdue that afFeclion which I ever 
 muft bear to him. — Permit me, moft generous of 
 men to fubdue it. 1 know thou loveft Clemen- 
 tina : it is her pride to think that thou doft. 
 But file is not worthy of thee. Yet let thy heart 
 own that thou loveft her foul, her immortal foul, 
 and her future peace. In that wilt rhou fiicw 
 thy love, as file has endeavoured to fiiew hers. 
 Thou art all magnanimity ; thou canft fuftain 
 the effort which file was unequal to. Make 
 fome other woman happy ! but let it not be an 
 Italian. 
 
 £ ' «' YouT 
 
( 74 ) 
 
 " You, my father, my mother, my brothers, 
 und you, my fpiritual father, have helped to fub- 
 due me, by your generous goodnefs. You have 
 •il yielded up your own judgments to mine. 
 You have told me, that if the choice of my 
 heart can make me happy, happy I fhall be. 
 But fhall I not, if it pleafe God to reftore my 
 inemory, be continually rccolledling the argu- 
 ments which you father Marefcotti, in particu- 
 lar, formely urged againft an alliance with this 
 nobleft of men, becaufe he wa> of a religion Co 
 contrary to my own, and fo peninacious in it ? 
 And will thefe recollecStions make me happy ? 
 
 permit me, permit me, my deareft friends, flill 
 to be God's child ? let me take tbe veil ! — And 
 let me pafs the remainder of my life in prayers 
 for you all, and for the converfion and happinefs 
 of the man, whofe foul my foul loveth, and ever 
 muft love. V/hat is the portion of this world, 
 which my grandfathers h.we bequeathed to me, 
 weighed againft this motive, and my foul's ever- 
 la(^ing welfare ? 
 
 " Cy chou whom my foul loveth, ]tt me try 
 the greatnefs of thy love, and the greatnefs of 
 thy fou', by thy endeavours to ftrengthen and 
 net to impair a icfo^ution, which, after all, it 
 will b"* ir. thy power io mske me break or keep ! 
 But my b:ui;i wovj'idcd. my health impaired, can 
 
 1 exp:(5i a long life ? a..J fhall I not endeavour 
 to make the cli.fe of if hn.-py r 
 
 ** But, O my friends, what ran wc do for thi« 
 great and ^ocd man, in ruturfi for the obligation! 
 be Ik vr hcnped upon us all r In return for his 
 gc^idntxc to rv'o o^ yo.ur chilclron ? Thefe obliga- 
 tions lie heavy upon my heart. Yet who knows 
 
 aot 
 
( 75 ) 
 
 not his magnanimity ? Who, that knows him, 
 knows not that he can enjoy the reward in the 
 adlion? Divine, almoft divine phihinthropirc,canft 
 thou forgive me? — But I knovv' thou canft. Thou 
 haft the fame notions that I have of the brevity 
 and vanity of this world's glory, and of the du- 
 ration of that to come ! And can I have the pre- 
 fumption to imagine, that the giving thee in mar- 
 riage fo wounded a frame, would be making thee 
 happy ? Once more, if 1 have the courage, th« 
 refolution, to Tnew thee this paper, do thou ena- 
 ble me, by thy great exaniple, to complete the 
 conquell of m)'ftrir; and do not put me upon 
 takii-!g advantage of my honoured friend's genc- 
 rofity : but do God, and thou enable me to fay. 
 Not my will, but his and theirs be done ! — -.Yet, 
 afrer ail, it mud be, let me own, in thy choicj 
 (for [cannot bear to be thought ungrateful to fuch 
 exalted merit; to add what name thou plcafeft to 
 that of 
 
 *' Clementina . ■ /*' 
 
 SirCharles at reading this paper was aftonifhed, 
 perplexed, and confounded, and at the fam.e time 
 filled with admiration at the angelic qualities of 
 Clementina. He threw himfelf on a fofa, not. 
 heeding Camilla, who fat in the window. The 
 lady rang. Camilla hafted to her. He ftarted 
 as fhe palTed him, and arofe j but on her return 
 file, roufed him from the ftupidity that had feized 
 him. O Sir, faid fhe, my lady dreads youc 
 anger 5 {he dreads to fee you ; . yet hopes it.— ^ 
 Haften, haften, and fave her from fainting. 
 
 He haftened in. The admirable lady met him 
 b^lf way, and throwing herfelf at his feet, cried, 
 £ 2 Forgiv«: 
 
( 76 ) 
 
 Forgive me, forgive the creature that muft be mi- 
 Terable, if you are offended with her. He at- 
 tempted to rnife her, but fhe v/ould not be raifed, 
 fhe faid, till he had forgiven her. He then 
 kneeled to her, as fhe kneeled, and clafping her 
 in his arms, cried, Forgive you. Madam ! ini- 
 mitable woman ! — Can you forgive me for having 
 prefiimed, and for ftill prefuming, to hope to 
 call fuch an angel mine ! 
 
 She was ready to faint, and cafl: her arms about 
 Sir Charles to fupport herfclf. Camilla held to 
 her her falts, and file again repeated. Am I, am 
 1 forgiven. — Say that I am. Forgiven! Madam I 
 he returned ) you have done nothing that requires 
 forgivcnefs. I adore your greatncfs of mind I 
 —What you wifh, bid me be, and that I will 
 be. Pvife m.oft excellent of human creatures ! 
 
 Sir Charles raifed her, and leading her to a 
 chair, involuntarily kneeled on one knee to her ; 
 holding both her hands in his as (ht fat, arid 
 looking up to her with eyes full of love and re- 
 verence. Camilla had run down to the Mar- 
 ch ioncfs, crying, O Madam ' fuch a fcene ! 
 Haflen, haften up. They will faint in each 
 other's arm$. The Marchionefs hafted after Ca- 
 milla, and found him in this kneeling poflure, 
 her daughter's hands both in his. Dear Che- 
 valier, faid fhe, reflrain your grateful rapture ! 
 For the fake of my child's head, grateful as I fee 
 by her eyes it muft be to her — reftrain it. O 
 Madam, faid Sir Charles, quitting Clementina's 
 hands, and rifmg and taking one of hers. Glory 
 in your daughter : You always loved and ad- 
 mired her; but you will now glory In her. She 
 i* an angel. — Give me leave, Madam, (to Cle- 
 mentina) 
 
( 77 ) 
 
 mentina) to prefent this paper to the Marchlonefsi 
 He gave it to her, faying, Read it. Madam — 
 Let yJurLord, let the Biihop, let leather Mare- 
 fcotti read it. — But read it with companion for 
 me ; and then dire(ft me what to fay, v^hat to do ! 
 I refign myfelf wholly to your direi^ion, and 
 theirs ; and to yours, my dear Lady Clementina. 
 You fay, you forgive me. Chevalier, faid the 
 lady : — Now fhall 1 forgive myfelf. God's good- 
 nefs and yours will, I hope, perfecHy reilore me. 
 This is mydiredlion, Chevalier — Love my Mind, 
 as yours ever was the principal object of my 
 love. 
 
 The whole family v/ere furprifed at this happy 
 turn, that had taicen place in the afFeclions of 
 the young lady, and much more fo at the conde- 
 fcenfion of Sir Ch:rrlcs, who was determined to 
 do every thing in his power to promote her hap- 
 pinefs, fo far as confcience was not concerned. 
 The young lady was fo much overwhelmed with 
 his goodnefs, ihat fhe could make no anfwer, 
 and Sir Charles was afraid, that fhe would have 
 fainred away in his arm.s. He told her that he 
 would never urge her any more on the fubject-,. 
 unlefs her brother the bifhop would give his con- 
 fent, a circumstance that was not likely to hap^ 
 pen. The violence of love, which of ail paf- 
 fions, is the (Irongeft-, beaan to prey upon the 
 mind of Sir Charles, and therefore he reiolved, in: 
 order to divert his melancholy^ to vifit fome of 
 the flates in Italy. 
 
 Accordingly he left Bologna, and after fpend- 
 iflg fome time at Rome and'Naples, returned to 
 ^ Z En^landj, 
 
( 78 ) 
 
 England, where he was received by his friends 
 with every demonihaiion of joy. The only 
 thing that contributed towards damping his peace 
 of mind, was the news of Mifs Byron's being 
 taken extremely ill, and that {he was then along 
 with her aunt, Mrs. Shirly, a maiden lady in 
 Nottinghamftiire. He fetout immediately for the 
 refider.ce of his dear charmer, and having offered 
 her a ihare of his heart, ihe ^ave him all the en- 
 couragement fhe could, conhtlent with female 
 modelty. He. told her that he was free from all 
 connections with Clementina, and aflured her 
 thai {hi hud no reafcii to doubt his honouri In a 
 word, the marriage was foon agreed on, and 
 Mifs Byron's friends having high notions of 
 honour, propofed that the ceremony Ihould be 
 performed in the moi\ public m.anner. Accord- 
 ingly every necc^ary preparation was made, and 
 the ladies, who were to attend, were drefl'ed in 
 the moft elegant manner, but Mifs Byron, al- 
 though not much deccrattd with refpe6t to out- 
 ward appearance, made a more difdnguifhing 
 figurv ih;in the.n all put together. 
 
 When they arrived at the church-yard they 
 were iiiCt by feveral young girls, daughters of the 
 tenants, all decently dreOed, and carrying bafkets 
 of flowers to fpread before the bridegroom and 
 bride, but \he crp.vd was fo great, that they 
 could fcarce perform what they intended. The 
 ceremony be?pg over, Sir Charles led his lovely 
 bride into the veftry, where her aged grand- 
 mother u-as waiting for her, and no fooner did 
 thv* old lady fee the amiable pair, than fhe drop- 
 ^^ed down on her knees, and implored a thoufand 
 bkili:;gs upon them. The bells were fet a 
 
 ringing 
 
( 79 ) 
 
 ringing the moment the ceremony was performed, 
 and continued (o till the whole company returned 
 to the hallv, where nothi g but luve aiid joy was 
 to he feen. ^ 
 
 An'entertaintr.ent was ::rovided for the tenants 
 and their children in tiit >ark:, :\nd ^u'tcr dinner 
 was over at the hall. Sir Cha.les went to attend 
 them, his bride having declined -to accompany 
 him, as ihe had never been fond of popular 
 applaufe. The tenants received Sir Charles as a 
 father rather than a landlord, and wifhed him all 
 the joy that a mortal can experience in this 
 world. The happy day wa? concluded with a 
 ball, and next morning Sir Charles fent a letter 
 to Jeron) mo, the brother oF Clementina, to let 
 her know tlrat he v/as now married. The fame 
 day the church-wardens came to wait on him in 
 behalf of the poor, and Sir Charles gave them 
 gratuities according to their different circum- 
 ftances, taking care to join prudence with 
 charity in ail his a<fl:ionb. Next Sunday the 
 whole family made themfeJves ready to proceed to 
 church, in order to adore that Supreme Being, 
 who is the lord and auth r of life, and when they 
 came there, the eyes of the whrle congregation 
 were fixed upon Sir Charles and his amiable 
 fpoufe. People crowded from every part of the 
 parifti to fee them ; the honeft and induftrious 
 wi{hed them all manner of fuccefs, and the poor 
 blefied them as benefadiors fent down from heaven 
 to releafe them. 
 
 Soon after the marriage of Sir Charles, he re- 
 ^reived a letter from Italy, informing him that the 
 Lady Clementina had eloped fron: her rtiafions, 
 and had taken her pallage on beard an Lngiilh 
 
( 80 r 
 
 ffiip, attended with no more than one fcrvanf. 
 This gave the moft fenfible uneafinefs to Sir 
 Charles, but as he was determined not to keep 
 any thing concealed from his lady, he Ihewed her 
 the letter, and fhe interceded with him in the 
 llrongcft manner, to take Clementina under his 
 protedion.. 
 
 Sir Charles immediately fet out for London, 
 where he found a Jttter from the unhappy lady, 
 with directions where he might fend her an 
 anfwer. He did not helltate one moment in 
 going to her lodg^ings, where he was introduced, 
 and the firit thing he did, was to propofe con- 
 ducting her to his ov/n houfe in Grolvenor Square, 
 where fhe would be under the care of his lifters, 
 Af'.er feme hefitation, fhe complied with his 
 requet, and went into the couch along with him, 
 but next day fl)e received the news that her re- 
 lations, as well as the Count Bclvidere, were 
 come in fearch of her. 
 
 When the marquis her father faw her, h# 
 rulhed into her arms, and cried out. My daugh-^ 
 ter ! my daughter I while the maichioncfs, over^ 
 come with jov, ^unk down on the floor. The 
 young lady, who loved h-jr parents in the moit 
 tender manner, faiated av/ay befide her mother, 
 and by motionlefs for fomc time, till the mar- 
 quis and Sir Charles helped her into a chair. 
 When the tirft emotions of joy were over, Cle- 
 mentina lifted up her eyt-sv and feeing Lady 
 Grandifon, fnatched her .land and killed it moft 
 cagerlv, at the fame tiine imploring upon her and 
 her beloved chevalier, a thouTand blejBngs. Hcf 
 
 heart was fo full ; but Lady L and Lady 
 
 Grandifon endeavoured to divert her attention to 
 
 hep' 
 
( 8i ) 
 
 Ijer parents, and congratulated them on the happy 
 event of having found her. Sir Charles with- 
 drawing, returned with the biihop and Jerony- 
 mo, whom he prefented to their fifter, and it is 
 hard to fay, whether the two young lords iliev/ed 
 more joy, or Clementina more confufion. She 
 offered to beg pardon of her brother, but they 
 would not fuffer her, telling her, that they had 
 been the occafion of her elopement, and novv 
 that they had found her, they looked on their 
 happinefs as more complete than they could have 
 expected or hoped for. 
 
 Jeronymo cL.fp^ng Sir Charles to his bofom, 
 called him his ever honoured brother, and thank- 
 ed him a thoufand times for the generofity he 
 had fhevvn to hisCfler; Clementina did not as 
 yet knov/ that the Count Belvidere had accom- 
 panied her relations to En^lauc, for Sir. Charles 
 haJ uled great caui:Jcn, and at hit told her that 
 the count only wanted to take leave of her. She 
 confented to fee him as one of the fi lends of her 
 family, and he being admitted, fhe entered into 
 converfation with him with a dignity becoming 
 her birth and education, fhe. knew that nothing 
 could give greater pleafure to her relations than 
 to fee her united to the count, and therefore 
 after fome hefitation, ihe told her parents, if they 
 would give her one year to confult her own in- 
 clinations, ihe would endeavour to oblige them, 
 by giving the count her hand. This was a moft 
 joyful furprize to her parents, and they con- 
 fented to flay a few months with Sir Charles, 
 part of which was fpent at his country-houfe in 
 all forts of innocent amufements, and when they 
 took their leave, Sir Charles and his Lady ac- 
 companied 
 
( 82 ) 
 
 companied them to Dover. Jeronymo ftaid tiH 
 next year In England, in order to enjoy the Bath 
 waters, when Sir Charles, his Lady, and two 
 fifters accompanied him to Italy, and had the 
 pleafure to he prefent at the marriage of Clemen- 
 tina with Count Belvidere, Having ftaid fome 
 time in Italy, Sir Charles, with his Lady and. 
 relations returned to England, and retired to 
 their country feat, where they fpent every day in 
 doing good to their poor neighbours. Lady 
 B3 ron, who had now born Sir Charles a boy and 
 a girl, was beloved by the poor, to whom (he 
 was a mod: generous bene!a(5lor, and Sir Charles 
 was admired by all the neighbouring gentlemen 
 4»n account of his many virtues. 
 
 Rnd of Str Charles Qrandifonr 
 
CLARISSA: 
 
 O R T H E 
 
 HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 COMPREHENDING 
 
 The moft important Concerns of 
 Private Life. 
 
 FROM the following very afFe6ling narra- 
 tive, an aweful leflbn is given to parents not 
 to exert an undue authority over their children, 
 in the grand article of marriage ; and to children 
 not to prefer a man of pleafure to a man of pro- 
 hityj upon the dangerous but too prevalent prin- 
 ciple, '* that a reformed rake makes the beft huf" 
 band:' 
 
 The lovely and moft accompliftied, yet, through 
 life, the cruelly perfecuted and unhappy Mifs 
 Clarissa Harlowe, was the youngeft child of 
 James Harlowe, Efq; a man of an extenfive for- 
 tune J but, as a hufband and a father, obftinate 
 and tyrannical to an extreme. Mrs. Harlowe, 
 her mother, was all mildnefs, all benevolence ; 
 but unable to exert the amiable qualities (he pof- 
 fefTed, from the untoward difpofition of her huf- 
 band, and of an imperious fon, in every refpecSl 
 
 B the 
 
( 2 ) 
 
 tlie counterpart of his father. Still more was her 
 innate tendernefs for Clarifla reftrained by the 
 felfifli jealoufy and over-bearing pride, of Mifs 
 Arabella, her other daughter j fuperior to the for- 
 mer in years, but infinitely inferior to her iit all 
 the graces both of body and mind : but it was 
 not for thefe advantages alone fhe had contra£led 
 an antipathy to her. By the will of her grand- 
 papa Clarifla had been left a handfome eftate, 
 with an elegant little building upon it, which 
 was called *' The Dairy Houfe.** To prevent 
 the difcontents excited in the family by this le- 
 gacy, fo honourably beftowed as the reward of 
 her fuperior virtues, ClarifTa, with equal mo- 
 defty and mildnefs, refigned it to the manage- 
 ■lent of her papa, and thereby prevented, for a 
 time, the inward malevolence of her brother and 
 fifter from proceeding to a downright quarrel. 
 
 During an excurfion of Mr. James Harlowe, 
 the fon, into Scotland, Lord M. made overtures 
 in behalf of his nephew Mr. Lovelace, for an 
 alliance with the family. The propofal was at- 
 tended with too many advantages to be rejected, 
 and the gay and witty, but diflipated and aban- 
 doned, Mr. Robert Lovelace, accordingly paid 
 his refpe£ls to Mifs Arabella ; Clarifla, whom he 
 had never feen, being from home ai her favourite 
 Dairy Houfe. Delighted with him, even from 
 h'vo firfl: vifit, Arabella could not conceal herrap- 
 iaires at being taken notice of by a man fo agree- 
 able as Mr. Lovelace; fhe lamented indeed that 
 he was tui/d and loved intrigues^ but always added 
 in his excufe, that he was young and a man of 
 fenfe. She liked him better and belter every day, 
 ytt, though he had repeated oppoitunities for it, 
 
 he 
 
C s ) 
 
 iie artfully evaded every expreffion which might 
 beconftrued into a declaration of his love. This 
 condu6l Mifs Bella attributed to hafhfulnefs ; but 
 at length, from his continued filence upon a fub^ 
 je6t •f which her own heart was full, (he could 
 not help betraying a peeviQi fretfulncfs. Love- 
 lace, who now had worked her to the very pitch 
 he wanted, feized the minute in which her dif- 
 pleafure feemed to be at its height to urge his 
 fuit. Then, as he expedted, fie denied him j 
 but it was with a coynefs and an indifference fo- 
 reign to her breaft. Thefe, however, her pre- 
 tended lover laid hold of as a final anfwer, relin- 
 quifhed his addreiTes, and left the mortified Ara- 
 bella prudently to make a virtue of neceility. 
 
 On his return fome time after into the coun- 
 try, Mr, Lovelace, who though difappolntedy as 
 he faid, in his former hopes, affedled ftill to court 
 the fiiendfhip of the family, paid a vifit to Mr. 
 Harlowe. Clarifla was now at home ; and every 
 one prefent remarked, that from the minute he 
 firft beheld her, ihc engrofled the whole of his 
 attention. On being afked how fbe liked him, 
 fhe replied, that, in her opinion, the man was 
 too fond of himfelf to have any regard for a wife, 
 and that fhe liked him not at all. The next day 
 Lord M. made a propofal in form from his ne- 
 phew, whofe vifits were accordingly permitted. 
 No opportunity, however, would Clarifla allov/ 
 him to converfewith her in private; as Ihe knew 
 that, fince his late addrefles to Arabella, her fa- 
 ther had been flrongly prepoflefled againft him, 
 in feveral letters from her brother, and that he 
 would come to no determination without his con- 
 currence. 
 
 B 2 She 
 
f 4 ) 
 
 She never even received the vifits of Mr. Love- 
 lace as intended for lier more than the reft of the 
 family. At length, on condition thatMifs Cla- 
 rilTa would direct his fubjedls, he engaged to 
 write, at their earneft dcfire, a defcription of 
 each court and country he had vifited during his 
 travels, as a neceflary requifite to a young gen- 
 tleman under the care of a brother-in-law of Mrs. 
 Hariowe, who was foon to make the grand tour. 
 This opened an epiftolary correfpondence between 
 them, in the courfe of which he often inclofed 
 letters to ClarifTa, fraught with every expreflion 
 which love and tendernefs could diiSlate, 
 
 Thus were matters fituated, when Mr. Har- 
 iowe the younger returned from his trip to the 
 north. Incapable of forgiving an injury, he now 
 determined to revenge the many quarrels which 
 Lovelace ?.nd he had had at college, in confe- 
 quence of the poignant ridicule with which the 
 former had expofed his infolence and pride. In 
 this, though from very different motives, he was 
 warmly feconded by his fifter Bella. As the 
 brother, in particular, fcrupled not, on all occa- 
 fions, to treat Mr. Lovelace with the moft con- 
 fummate rudenefs ; a duel enfued, in which Har- 
 iowe was wounded and difarmed. This occa- 
 fioned a fever which fet the whole family in a 
 flame, and which was wholly imputed to the in- 
 nocent ClarifTa. Lovelace, who had generoufly 
 fpared the life of his malevolent antagonift when 
 at his mercy, after repeated meflages to enquire 
 after his health, at length attempted to pay him 
 a vifit in perfon. The father, who confidered 
 this as an aggravation of the injury done to his 
 family, was with dificulty reftrained from going 
 
 to 
 
( s ) 
 
 to meet him with a drawn fword ; Clarifla, ter- 
 rified at the confufion, fainted away ; and Love- 
 lace, melted at her fituation, departed, though 
 not without vowing vengeance at every ftep. 
 
 On the recovery of young Harlowe, he re- 
 folved with his fifter, as the only infallible me- 
 thod of preventing an alliance with the detefted 
 Lovelace, to haVe Clarifla difpofed of in marriage 
 to another as foon as poflible. Tired out, mean- 
 while, by the ill treatment {he experienced from 
 them at home, in confequence of her oppofition 
 to their fchemes, fhe defired, and, notwithftand- 
 ing the oppofition of her brother, at length ob- 
 tained permiflion to go for a fhort time to refide 
 with Mifs Howe, her dear, her bofom friend. 
 Hardly had (he been abfent a month upon this 
 agreeable vifit, when (he received a fudden order 
 to return. How great was her furprife on ob- 
 ferving the formal feverity of every countenance, 
 as (he entered the once happy manfion of her fa- 
 ther j and efpecially on hearing herfelf accufed 
 of having been in the company,of Lovelace ! In 
 vain did (he urge that alone (he had never con- 
 verfed with him, and that it became not her to 
 object to any vifitor Mrs. Howe might think pro- 
 per to receive. Her father infifted that (he had 
 been indulged too much ; that every match kindly 
 propofed by her brother for her good, (he had re- 
 jected ; that it was now his turn, and he would 
 be obeyed ; that, in a word, (he Was to confider 
 Mr. Roger Solmes, and no other, as her future 
 hufband. The gentle heart of Clarifla revolted 
 at the very name of a wretch, famed for nothing 
 but his wealth, his meannefs, and his avarice; 
 and to the moft grating infults from her brother 
 B 3 and 
 
( 6 ) 
 
 and fider, and the harlheft ufage from her pa- 
 rents was fhe expofed from the averfion (he ex- 
 prefled to this propofal. Of every confolation in 
 life was fhe divefted but her correfpondence with 
 Mifs Howe. Even this fhe would not have en- 
 joyed, had it not been from the circumftance of 
 her having been allowed to feed a few bantam 
 fowls in an eld wood-houfe at the fide of the gar- 
 den, where (he found means to conceal her Jet- 
 teis in a crevice of the wall. There her friend's 
 fervant r-ceived her letters, and there he depo- 
 iited the anfwers of his young miftrefs. 
 
 In the heighth of her diftrefs, when denied even 
 admittance lo htr parents, fhe wrote feveral mov- 
 ing letters to her brother and fifter j but to thefe 
 fhe received no return but reproach and infuU, 
 With the bitcereft refie6lions on her fuppofed pre- 
 pofllfTion.in favour of Lovelace. To her father 
 and two uncles fhe alfo wrote ; yet they all re- 
 mained inflexible, all threatened her with the 
 utter lofs ol iheir affe(Slion, if fhe did not yield 
 to their wifiies. Thus furrounded with per- 
 plexity, and devoted to forrow, with what terror 
 and alarm, on entering the wood-houfe one day, 
 did (he behold Lovelace flart forth into her pre- 
 fence ! There, in difguife, he had concealed 
 himfelf, and though the refpedlful modefty of 
 his behaviour in this lonely place rather diffipated 
 her fears, yet flill fhe was terrified, left, being 
 feen, an affignation might be imputed to her by 
 her cruel brother.- Aaer reproaching him for 
 the danger to which he had thus expofed her, fhe 
 was haftening from him, when, throwing him- 
 felf a' her feet, he befought her patience for a 
 few moments, declaring that he had committed 
 
 hi» 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 his prefent rafhnefs only to avoid a greater ; that 
 he thought he had fo little intereft in her heart, 
 he could not promife him lei f his forbearance 
 would be attended with any other effe£t than to 
 lofe her for ever, from her being obliged to ac- 
 cept for a hufband the man (he could not but dc« 
 teft. Severity, Claiffa affjred him, vsrould be 
 far from efFedlmi^ tlic end defired ; as by no con- 
 fideration (houM (he be induced to marry Sclmes, 
 and with great hncfrity fhe cou'd declare her 
 wi(hes for afingle life. On mtimatinghis *' great 
 concern, that after fo miny inftances nf his ten- 
 der and obfequious devotion" She flopped 
 
 him by faying:, '* Why dor/t you aiTert in plain 
 words my obligation to you for your unwiihed-for 
 pe»feverance, 'vhich has fet all my friends againft 
 me." — -' She muft forgive him," he faid, " for 
 having prefumed to hope for a greater (hare ia 
 her favour than he h^d hitherto found, when fa 
 \ile a reptile as Solmes was fet up as his compe- 
 titor; it" he added, '' the violent meafures pur- 
 fued fliould drive her to extremities, the ladies of 
 hii family would be proud of giving her their 
 protedion." 
 
 Not long after this interview, from which her 
 confidence in Lovelace was not a little increafed, 
 (he received a moft afFecSlionate letter from her 
 iriama, in which were inclofed patterns of rich 
 filks for her choice of different fuits on her mar- 
 riage with Mr. Solmes. At the fame time leave 
 was given for her to come, and point out thofe 
 {he approved of ; but, if fhe was flill refolved to 
 continue undutiful, by no means to think of 
 entering into the prefenca of her parents. I a 
 Tain did ihe intreat to fpeak with her mama in 
 B 4. private j 
 
r 8 ) 
 
 private; her father fent her notice that, unlefs 
 Ihe would con fent to become the wife of Mr, 
 Solmes, he would never fee her more. 
 
 Thus circumftanced, Mifs Howe, the dear 
 confidant of all her forrows, flrongly inforced to 
 her the propriety, the a6^ual neceflity, of refum- 
 ing her little eftate. But the dutiful Clarifla 
 could not think of entering into any conteft with 
 her father, though, by the rigid treatment of that 
 father, the extremities of indigence and mifery 
 ihould be her lot. 
 
 In order to force her to a compliance, her in- 
 exorable relations now refolved to fend her to a 
 houfe, furrounded by a moat, belonging to her^ 
 uncle Anthony Harlowe; where {he was no longer 
 to be permitted the ufe of her pen, and where 
 her only vifitors were to be the odious Solmes, 
 and her barbarous brother and fifter. On this 
 refolution fhe warmly remonftrated to her bro- 
 ther, while, with fpirit, flie added, that " (he 
 (hould think it hard to be fent againft her will to 
 any one's houfe, when fhe had one of her owa 
 to go to." 
 
 Hardly had her brother received this letter, 
 when up came Mifs Bella to her in a perfe6l 
 flame, and uttered every thing barbarous and ag- 
 gravating which the moft envenomed malice could 
 fuggeft. In the evening of the fame day fhe re- 
 ceived a letter from her, intimating that^" her 
 mama had procured a refpite for her till the en- 
 fuing week ; that, however, fhe had efFedually 
 done her bufinefs with all the family ; and that^ 
 thanks to her ftubbornnefs, no one would receive 
 her but her uncle Anthony, to whofe houfe (he 
 
 muit 
 
C 9 ) 
 
 hiUfi: expe£t to be carried in the courfc of a very 
 few days." 
 
 In this melancholy fituation Clarifla received a 
 letter from her lover, in which he told her, that 
 he had Something of the laft confequencc to com- 
 municate to her, and ftrenuoufly begged for a 
 meeting in the garden; owned that he had pro- 
 cured a key, but, on his fear to difoblige her, 
 was afraid to come without her leave ; and hinted 
 how ill he was of a cold he had caught by wait- 
 ing in the coppice behind the garden in the 
 midft of the rain. Imprefled with pity, if not 
 with love at this intelligence, and driven defpe- 
 rate by the obftinate feverity of her relations, 
 Clarifla gave him to know that the following 
 night fhe would meet. Hardly had fliedepofited 
 her epiftle, when, repenting her imprudence, (he 
 returned upon her fteps, in order to take it away; 
 but already had the watchful Lovelace obtained 
 pofTeffion of it. Within two days fhe was to be 
 carried a prifoner to her uncle's moated houfe, 
 whence fhe defpaired to make her efcape. As 
 her laft refource, fhe wrote to her uncle himfelf, 
 fupplicating more time. This indulgence /he 
 obtained, though on the hard condition of her 
 receiving a vifit from Mr. Solmes ; for which, 
 glad to obtain a farther refpite at any rate, fhe 
 accordingly appointed that day fevenriight. 
 
 Her appointment with Lovelace fhe now re- 
 voked, and defired that, whatever he .night have 
 to communicate, he would write. This produced 
 a letter. from him, in which he loudly complained 
 of the breach of her promife, and in which, fot 
 the firft time, he rather appeared the haughty 
 than the humble lover. The impropriety of tbi^ 
 B 5 ■ beha-i 
 
f 10 ) 
 
 l>chavrour did not pafs unrefented by Clariffa. 
 In anfvver Ihe told him, that (he was amazed at 
 the freedom of his reproaches, and that (he could 
 not help defiring he would give himfelf no far- 
 ther tiouble on her account. Two days after 
 ihe rtcei\ed another letter from him . this, on 
 the prefumption of her forgivenefs for his late 
 warmth, was full of contrivances for her efcape 
 from her cruel relations, and of pretended appre- 
 henfions from Solmes*s vifit. He even propofed 
 to fix her in a place of fecurity, either with his 
 female relations, or wherever elfe (he fhould 
 think proper; and then, leaving her entirely aC 
 her own liberty, fhe might either agree with her 
 friends, or appiove or rejc(5l him as his condu6t 
 ihould deferve. Generous as thefe offers were in 
 appearance, (he told him, however, in anfwer, 
 that (he had given up all thoughts of ever more 
 writing to a man, who could se(\t£\ on her for 
 huving done what her own judgment direded ; 
 that his fecret machinations, in order to come at 
 the Secrets of her family, were highly culpable ^ 
 and that, though her antipathy to Mr. Solmei 
 was too deeply rooted for her ever to get the bet- 
 ter of it, yet (he would by no means have him 
 interpret that averfion an encouragement to him- 
 felf. 
 
 When the dreaded hour for her interview with 
 Solmes arrived, ClarifTa was ordered down into 
 the parlour. Thither, relu£lant, (he went with 
 trembling fteps. Her intended hufband ap- 
 proached her richly drefTed, and cringing to the 
 ground. He could hardly utter a word, fo con- 
 Icious was he of his demerits. On hammering 
 out his apprchGnHoas that ihe might have heard 
 
 jm0 
 
( II ) 
 
 fame things to his difadvantage, and hiswlflito 
 corre(5t every fault (he fhould mention to him 5 
 Clarifla replied, that indeed fhe had heard many 
 things to his difadvantage, and that one fault in 
 particular (he wifhed him to correct, the endea- 
 vouring to have a young and helplefs creature to 
 marry, from motives of fordid intereft, the per- 
 fon fhe never could efteem. " Withdraw thea 
 your addrefles," (he added ; *' thereby you will 
 be entitled to my thanks, and amply inall you 
 enjoy them." 
 
 Solmes was at a lofs what to fay or what to 
 do, when in came her uncle Anthony. On his 
 entrance CiariflTa rofe, and with all humility in- 
 terceded for his compailion. " When you de- 
 ferve it niece," he replied, " you will have the 
 favour of every body." — *' Then now, if ever, 
 do I deferve it," cried (he. *' Never will I marry 
 any man without the confent of my father, of 
 you, and of all my relations. Let me not b€ 
 thus precipitated, and, to confirm my refolution, 
 I will take the moil fo'emn oath that can be of- 
 fered to me.'' — *' That," faid the uncle in a 
 threatening voice, •* (liall be the matrimonial 
 oath, and to this gentleman. It (hall indeed^ 
 Glary ;. and the more you oppofe it, the worfe it 
 will be for you." — " Sooner, Sir," rejoined (he, 
 •* {hall you follow me to the grave 5 and you, 
 Mr. Solmes, take ndice, there is no death I would 
 not fo:>ner undergo, than, as your wife, be for 
 ever unhappy." — Htr uncle, in a rage, declar- 
 ing tha , \n fpiie ot all oppofition, Ihe ih juld 
 m^rry Mr. SoJines within one week at farthelti 
 jhe cou'j>d not htlp i4);ng, that the harfh treat- 
 ment fhe had tji laic experienced, was owing to 
 B 6 iS^ 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 tlie infllgations of a brother, who would not 
 himfelf give the inftance of duty which was ex- 
 ad^ed from her. 
 
 On attempting to leave the room, (he was 
 prevented by her brother, who bolted in upon 
 her, and, after many farcaftic invedlives, led her 
 up to Solmes, and would have joined their hands. 
 " What right. Sir," faid fhe, " have you to 
 difpofe of my hand ; what right have you to treat 
 me thus ?" — Her uncle Anthony, and even Mr. 
 Solmes, could not help cenfuring his boifterous 
 'behaviour to her. She again addrefled herfelf to- 
 the latter, and conjured him, if he had any re- 
 'gard for his own happinefs, no longer to perfift 
 in his addrefles ; and to her brother fhe fcrupled 
 not to declare, that if he thought meeknefs al- 
 ways indicated tamcnefs, and there was no mag- 
 nanimity without blufter, for once he would find 
 himfelf miftaken ; and he would have reafon to 
 fee, that a generous mind fcorns compulfion. 
 
 Though in great diforder, and ready to faint, 
 in confequence of the violent ftruggle fhe had 
 undergone, yet not the fmalleft attention- was 
 paid to the haplefs ClarifTa. On ringing for one 
 of the fervants to bring her a glafs of water, her 
 brother inhumanly cried out to Solmes, " Art, 
 damned art." Having fwallowed the water, fhe 
 again, though flaggering with extreme faintnefs^ 
 attempted to withdraw. But her uncle telling her 
 he had not yet done with her, fhe was flopped, 
 though at length permitted to go to the gardcR, 
 on her promife to return fo foon as the open air 
 nad recovered her fpirits. 
 
 Within half an hour her attendance was once 
 more required in the parlour, where, after re- 
 maining 
 
( 13 ) 
 
 malning Come time alone, her uncle Anthony 
 came to her, fpllowed by Solmes. The latter 
 renewing his fupplications, " No more of thefe," 
 cried the boifterous uncle. " The perverfe girl 
 defpifes all I once defigned to do for her, fo I 
 will change my meafures." ClariiTa, while (he 
 thanked him for all his kind intentions, expref- 
 fed her willingnefs to refign all claim to any of 
 his favours, except kind looks and kind words ; 
 adding, that if he would be pleafed to convince 
 her brother and fifter that he had altered his ge- 
 nerous purpofes in her behalf, (he might expecSt 
 better quarter from them both. Without giving 
 her uncle time to fhew his difpleafure, in burft 
 the meanly liftening James Harlowe, with every 
 mark of fury in his look, and every expreffion 
 of reproach upon his tongue^ Was this, he 
 afked, the cdnftrudion fhe chofe to put on all 
 his care and concern for her? — His care and con- 
 cern, ClarifTa told him, fhe in no refpedl defired 
 or wanted ; her papa and mama were both liv- 
 ing, and were they not, he was the laft perfon 
 whom, if {he might judge from his late conducSl", 
 {he would wifh to have any concern for her ; fhe 
 wiftied not to be independent of her father, yet 
 furely fhe had a right to confider herfelf indepen* 
 dent of him. 
 
 As (he uttered thefe words, a mefTage came for 
 young Harlowe to wait upon his father. " Son 
 James," fhe heard her once kind parent fay, in 
 a voice of thunder, " carry this rebellious child 
 to my brother Anthony's ; not another hour (hall 
 fhe ftay under my roof." On her knees fhe beg- 
 ged for admittance, befeeching him not to repro- 
 bate his proftrate child, Her uncle and Solmes 
 
 were 
 
( u } 
 
 ^ert moved. Not fo her hard-hearted brother, 
 who even held the door that (he might not fee 
 her father. By the interceflion of her mother, 
 however, the above fentence of her father was 
 again deferred for a fcw days longer ; but for 
 tkis favour, as before, £he was doomed to endure 
 another vifit from Solmes. 
 
 At this period, when under hourly apprehen»» 
 fions of beiDg united for life to a man who juflly 
 merited her utter abhorrence, fhe received a let- 
 ter from her dear Mifs Howe, informing her 
 that (he had tried, but in vain, to perluade her 
 mama to give her the protection of her houfe, 
 fhould ihe be compelled to relinquifli that of her 
 father. Lovelace at the fame time intimated to 
 her^ by letter, that he was no ftranger to the 
 cruelties {he had of late experienced^ and ftrongly 
 urged her to embrace the prote<Slioh of the ladies 
 of his family. In this ftate of uncertainty (he 
 was told by her fiflcr's maid Betty, a perthuffey, 
 (who, tutored by the example of her miftrefs,. 
 took every opportunity of infulting the unfortu- 
 nate ClarifTa) that all her fears from her uncle's 
 chapel would be realift-d in her own chamber,. 
 This intelligence was confirmed by Mrs. Her- 
 vey, fifter- in-law to her mother, who farther in- 
 formed her, that this precipitate meafure was oc- 
 cafioned by the menaces of Mr. Lovelace; to- 
 prevent the confequences cf which, the who!» 
 family had come to a refolution that (he (hould be 
 married tlie enfuing Wednefday ; that her father 
 himfelf would bring her up the fettlements to 
 fign, vNith a determination, as (he had com- 
 plained of har(h ufage, to ufe all the arts of per- 
 fuafioii) in order to induce hef to coofent -, and 
 
 that^ 
 
f '5 ) 
 
 ih'at, at any rate, whether {he yielded with V 
 grace or not, flie muft be Solmes's wife ; thai 
 point was abfolutely refolved upon. The only 
 reply of ClarifTi was, '^ Indeed I never will. 
 This was not origiially my father's wiil ; indeed 
 I never will." Mrs. Hervey replied, that, at 
 any rate, it was his will nozv \ and that, as Mr, 
 Lovelace had certainly formed a refolution of 
 forcing her out of their hands, ihe could not help 
 thinking them right to prevent being bullied out 
 of their child. — *' Nothing then remains for me 
 to fay," returned Clariffa, " I am driven quite 
 defperate ; — I care not what becomes of me." 
 
 On requefting a farther refpite, fhe was afked, 
 if her intention was to give the vileft of men an 
 opportunity to put his murderous fchemes in ex- 
 ecution. Bereft of all patience at this cruel in- 
 finuation, fhe called on her aunt Hervey in the 
 language of diftradtion, that whatever might be 
 the confequences of this barbarous compulfion, 
 fhe was guiltlefs of them. Frantic fhe rufhed 
 half-way down ftairs, infiiHng on feeing her papa, 
 snd declaring, that as flie ov/ed her life, fo (he 
 fhould rejoice to owe her death to him. Hear- 
 ing her brother's voice (he flopped, and overheard 
 him fay to his fifter, " It works charmingly, my 
 dear Bella ; let us keep it up, and the villain 
 will be caught in his own trap. She muft nov;? 
 be what we would have her." — ** Do you keep 
 my father to it," Bella replied, " and I will take 
 care of my mama." 
 
 From a fpirited rage, Clarifla now funk into a 
 defponding gloom. Determined at all events^ 
 however, to baffle the unmanly triumph and op- 
 |>re0ive projei^s of hex broiher, ihe wrote to Mr. 
 
 Jjovelace, 
 
( i6 ) 
 
 tovelace, that, as the only method fiie had left 
 of avoiding the tyranny of her relations, fhe 
 would, the Monday following, meet him at the 
 garden-door, and accept his offered protedion. 
 Hardly had (he adopted this precipitate meafure, 
 when, though too late, (he would have given the 
 world to recall it. In anfwer to a letter fraught 
 with tendernefs, which, in the interim, flie had 
 received from Lovelace, (he told him, that as 
 there were yet three days to come before the ar- 
 rival of the time, her parents might relent ; and 
 that, in this cafe, fhe referved to herfelf the li- 
 berty of a6ling as (lie (hould think proper. 
 
 Rather than that (lie (hould be forced into the 
 protection of a man fo violent and impetuous in all 
 his meafurese as Lovlace, Mifs Howe, with all the 
 aftedtionate warmth of friendfhip, offered to ac- 
 company her in her flight. This Clari(ra rejected ; 
 but as her dear friend rather dreaded the efFedls 
 of fuch apparent rafhnefs, (he determined to (lay 
 and brave the worft. This refolution (he wrote 
 to Lovelace, and depofited the letter in the ufual 
 place ; but he, artfully apprehenfive left fhe 
 fliould withdraw her promife, fufFered ' it to re- 
 main there, that (he might be ftill under the ne- 
 cefTity of obferving her engagement. 
 
 At length the fatal hour of appointment ar- 
 rived. In vain did ClarifTa urge, that having 
 confidered of her propofed flight, (he was deter- 
 mined not to rifque it. He cunningly drew her 
 from the garden-gate j befought her to haften to 
 the chariot, which was in readinefs for her ; told 
 her that he had been watched ; that this was the 
 only minute (he had to efcape, and that to part 
 with her now would be to lofe her for ever.— 
 
 « Whither 
 
( 17 ) 
 
 '* Whither do you draw me, Mr. Lovelace ?'* 
 cried fhe in anger, and ftruggling to loofen her 
 hand from him. *' I would Tooner die than go." 
 — Lovelace vowed that not only his own happi- 
 nefs both here and hereafter, but the fafety of 
 her implacable brother, depended on the prefent 
 moment j that her will (hould thenceforth be a 
 law to him in every thing ; that all his relations 
 €xpe6led her, her own promife called on her; 
 and that he urged her to take no ftep, but what 
 would the fooner reconcile her to her parents. 
 Clarifla defired to judge for herfelf j and added, 
 that it did not become him to blame her friend* 
 for endeavouring to compel her, when he thu» 
 ufed compulfion himfelf. That minute (he de- 
 clared file would call out for help if he did not 
 unhand her, and allow her to return. " I will 
 obey you, dearefl creature,'' faid Lovelace, af- 
 fuming a look of dejection. " Yet flay one mo» 
 ment, beft beloved of my foul ! Your retreat i» 
 (ecure. If you will go ^ the key lies at the door. 
 But, O Madam, think of next Wednefday — . 
 think that on that day you are the wife of Mr. 
 Solmes ! Fly me not fo eagerly. I will attend 
 you into the garden, and into the houfe itfelf if 
 I am not intercepted. I will face them all." 
 
 The forlorn ClarifTa almoft gafped with terror, 
 when {lie heard his refolution of accompanying 
 her into the prefence of her friends. On no ac- 
 count would he be prevailed to leave her. He 
 declared that he was defperate ; reminded her 
 that the day after tomorrow was the fatal Wed- 
 nefday ; and offering her his fword in the fcab- 
 bard, told her, that, if fhe chofe it, his heait 
 .ihould be a (heath for theirs. " What can you 
 
 mean V* 
 
C 18 ) 
 
 mean r* faiJ Clarifla, " Muft every one take 
 advantage of the weaknefs of my temper ? I* 
 this your generofity, Mr. Lovelace?" and fhc 
 burft into a flood of tears. Lovelace, mean- 
 while, threw himfelf at her feet, and told her, 
 that whether {he commanded him with hcry or 
 commanded him from her^ he would itill be all 
 obedience. Obferving her ftoop to take up the 
 key from the ground, in order to let herfclf into 
 the garden, he ftarted as if he had heard fomc- 
 body at the infide of the gate, clapped his hand 
 CO his fword, and loudly whifpered to the alarmed 
 and terrified Clarifla, as if out of breath himfelf 
 with the fright, '< They are at the door, my be- 
 loved creature," and fcizing the key, pretended 
 to double lock it. In the iuftant a rumbling was 
 heard at the door, as if to burfl: it open, while 
 fomebody within ciied out, '' Are you there? 
 Come up this rromcnt — this moment. — Here ihey 
 are both together. — Your pittol, this moment— 
 your gun !'' Thcie exclamations were accom- 
 panied with feveral more attacks upon the door, 
 Lovelace, clapping his niiked fword under his 
 arm, fnatched the trembling hands of Clarifl^a, 
 faying, ** Fly, fly, my adorable. This moment 
 is all that is left to you. Fly, if you would not 
 be more cruelly uled than ever ; if you would 
 not fee two or three murders committed at your 
 feet." — *' Help ! help!" exclaimed Clarifla, 
 frightened, yet running as faft as he. 
 
 Indeed what not a little heightened the terror 
 of Clarifla, and haftened her flight, was the ap- 
 peal ance of a man, as fhe turned back her head, 
 who muft have come from the garden, and who 
 beckoned and called, as if to others who were in 
 
 lighji 
 
T 19 ) 
 
 fight. Thefe (he did not doubt were her father 
 and brother, or their fervants, (o wholly did her 
 fears cngrofs her. She foon, therefore, loft light 
 of the door. Lovelace hurrying her on ilill fafter 
 till they got to the chariot, into which lifting 
 her, they never flopped till they reached St. Al- 
 bans. 
 
 Thus was the beautiful, the accomplifhed, the 
 yirtuous ClarifTa, till lately the delight and pr^de 
 of her family, and the admiration of all who 
 knew her, forced into the protedlion of the de- 
 (igning, the profligate Lovelace. Nothing bad 
 indeed did ClarifTa know of him but by fame, 
 which, while it branded him as a debauchee and 
 a libertine, honoured him as a man of courage 
 and generofity ; virtues, from which her heart 
 whifpered her, and fhe too readily believed, he 
 could not be a villain. The fufferings fne had 
 experienced at home, proceeded, in a great mea- 
 fure, from the reports he had fecretJy caufed to 
 be carried into the family ; nor was the noife fhe 
 had heard at the garden gate any other than that 
 of her father's gardener, who had been tutored 
 and corrupted for that purpofe by her crafty fe- 
 ducer. 
 
 Mifs Howe, on being apprifed by ClarifTa of 
 the particulars of her involuntary elopement, ad- 
 vi fed her, as all pundlilios muft ceafe now fhe 
 was from under her father's roof, to marry di- 
 rectly, as the mofl efFe^ual method of faving her 
 honour and her reputation. But alas 1 this ad- 
 vice it was no longer in her power to follow. 
 In the letter in which fhe appointed to meet 
 Lovelace, fhe had laid him under an injun6lIon 
 Ijot to talk of niarriage, till he ibould give her 
 
 roojn> 
 
( 20 J 
 
 room to believe his reformation real. This he 
 too pun£lually obeyed ; and yet, more to heighten 
 the calamities of her fituation, ihe had no prof- 
 peel but that of a£tual poverty and u^ant, the lit- 
 tle money (he happened to have in her pocket 
 amounting to no more than feven guineas. 
 
 The firft propofal of Lovelace to her was, that 
 fhe fhould go to a feat belonging to Lord M. his 
 uncle. This, however, fhe declined till flie 
 fhould hear from home ; as fhe had already writ- 
 ten to her fifter for her clothes, her books, and 
 fifty guineas fhe had left in her efcritoir. In con- 
 fequence of this refufal, Lovelace took up his re- 
 fidence at an inn the neighbourhood, where fhe 
 ^as waited upon by his iordfhip's houfekeeper, 
 who recommended her to her fifter, v/ho kept a 
 farm-houfe a few miles off. Here fhe would have 
 thought herfelf tolerably happy, had fhe been left 
 to herfelf. But Lovelace, determined at any 
 rate not to leave her, obtained a pretence for con- 
 tinuing near her in the foolifh menaces of her 
 brother, who avowed, in the prefence of his fer- 
 vants, his determined purpofe to carry Clariflk 
 from him by force. 
 
 Once, and but once, during their flay at this 
 place, did he urge her with earneftnefs to honour 
 him v^ith her hand; but it was done in the full 
 afl'urance of a refufal, when he perceived her vio« 
 lently indifpofed, and to the lafl degree dejc£led, 
 on the receipt of a barbarous letter from her Af- 
 ter, intimating that, on hearing of her flight, 
 her father had on his knees implored a curfe up- 
 on her ; while he exprcfled his wifh, that her 
 difobcdience might be accompanied with ruin 
 ksiQ and hereafter, and that in the author of her 
 
 Cfinio 
 
r 21 ) 
 
 <frlme fhe might find her punifhment. .The for- 
 lorn Clariffa, tenderly as (he loved her parent?, 
 confidered this horrid imprecation as the moft 
 dreadful of all calamities. Still mindful, how- 
 ever, of the friendly advice of Mifs Howe, (he 
 rather feemed to wave his fuit than to deny it ; 
 but her bafe and defigning Lovelace, dextroufly 
 interpreted her confufion on this occafion into a 
 refentment at his having prefumed to prefs fo ma- 
 terial a point, contrary to her exprefs commands. 
 'Bafe and defigning, indeed, fhe had foon caufe to 
 believe him ; a circumftance which afforded no 
 very pleaflng profpe^l, whatever happy revolu- 
 tion might happen in her affairs. In order to 
 appeafe her fcruples, as to her being fo much ex- 
 pofed to his company, he pretended to go to 
 Windfor to look for an apartment where fhe 
 might be concealed from her brother ; but find- 
 ing none there, as he told her, flie propofed go- 
 ing to London, as the mofl probable place for 
 privacy ; infifting, however, that he fhould ne- 
 ver lodge in the fame houfe, and that he fhould 
 leave her as foon as {he was out of danger. This 
 he promifed, and, at her defire, wrote to a mar- 
 ried gentleman, his friend, to look out for a proper 
 lodging. A defcription of feveral lodgings was 
 accordingly fent, and fo artful was the account of 
 one of them drawn up, that it was not doubted 
 but Clariffa would fix upon it without fufpicion. 
 This was faid to be a back houfe in Dover ftreer, 
 genteel, and handfomely furniihed ; Mrs. Sin- 
 clair, the landlady of which was the widow of 
 an officer in the guards, but In reduced circum- 
 ftances. Lovelace ihewed his friend*s letter to 
 CiarifTa, but afFeded to leave her to her own 
 
 choice. 
 
t 22 ) 
 
 c!iolce. The apartments in Dover- ftreet of courfe- 
 obtained the preference,, and in thefe fhe fixed 
 her abode. On their arrival, the widow Sinclair 
 offered Clariffa a kinrwoman of her own for her 
 fervant ; to whom flie attributed many good qua- 
 lities, but pretended that flie could neither write 
 nor read writing. This was no objection to Cla- 
 riflj, though flie rather difliked her look, as well 
 as the look of the widow. Her two nieces, Miff 
 Polly Horton and Mifs Sally Martin, ftie thought, 
 however, agreeable and genteel young women. 
 
 On pretence that he had but a flight opinion 
 of Mrs. Sinclair, by no arguments would Love- 
 lace, even from the firft of their arrival, be pre- 
 vailed on to lodge elfewhere ; intimating to Cla- 
 riila, that as he could not yet think of leaving 
 her, fo he had prepared the landlady for their 
 ftaying with her no longer than they could find 
 a houfe, and, to bafi^le her brother's plots, given 
 out that they were married, though, for the pre- 
 fcnt,, under an indifpenfible neceflity of having 
 fcparate beds. Incapable of deceit herfelf, Cla- 
 rilFa could not view it but with abhorrence in 
 another. She infifted, but to no purpofe, that 
 he would unfay all he had faid to the people of the 
 houfe; he bfgged her to connive at what he af- 
 fe£led to confider an innocent and necefTary ftra- 
 tagem ; and, obferving her difpleafure, took an 
 opportunity to beg that next day flie would com- 
 plete his happinefs at the altar. Without giving 
 her time to anfwer, however, he waved the dil- 
 CGurfc ; yet, fjch was now the abjt £t fituation of 
 ClarifTa, that flie would with plcafure have ac- 
 companied him thither, had he offered to renew 
 bis entceatiefi for it. 
 
 Or 
 
C 23 J 
 
 On the morrow, foon after breakfaft, Love-^ 
 lace, in confequence of his promife the night be- 
 fore, ihat he would leave London, took leave of 
 Clarifla, whom hz very refpedfuily addrefled as 
 his wife before the people of the houfc, Heear- 
 neftly prefled her acceptance of a bank-note, and 
 though flie declined the obligation, yet, after 
 his departure, flie found it left upon her table. 
 On the very next day he returned, pleading the 
 violence of his pafiion, and his apprehenfion of 
 what her brother mig;ht do, as the caufe of fo 
 fhort an ab fence. His ftudy now was to amufe 
 Clarifla with looking for a houfe ; he even told 
 her that he had fixed on one inhabited by a Mrs. 
 Fretchville, a widow lady, who was foon to 
 leave it. Pretexts ftill abounded for his lodging 
 in the fame houfe with her ; a circumftancc 
 which, however difagreeable in itfelf, (he could 
 not prevent, and therefore thought it moft pru- 
 dent to overlook, efpecially as (he could not help 
 thinking herfelf on the eve of her marriage. 
 
 Proud of having fo eftimable a prize in his 
 power, Lovelace determined to introduce four of 
 his moft iiicimate aflbciates to her, Belford, Mow- 
 bray, Eelton, and Tourville, men of family and 
 fortune, but of the fame libertine difpofition as 
 liimfelf ; and for this purpofe an entertainment 
 was ordered at Mrs. Sinclair's. Clarifla ftrenu- 
 oufly refufed being of the party, efpecially as, by 
 having laid her under the difagreeable neceflity 
 of appearing as his wife, fhe wiihed at prefent 
 to fee as few people as pofllble who were to think 
 her f o ; but at length, on Mrs Sinclair's telling 
 her that, as Mifs Martin and Mifs Horton were 
 engaged, fiie would get one Mifs Partington, to 
 
 whom 
 
( 24 ) 
 
 whom her late hufband the Colonel had bee». 
 guardian, (he yielded to their united importuni- 
 ties. Thefe gentlemen loaded her with every 
 expreflion of admiration and praife ; but as, from 
 feveral circumftances, fhe could by no means ap- 
 prove of their company, (he politely took her 
 leave of them as foon as decency would permit, 
 and retired to her apartment. 
 
 No longer did Lovelace take the leaft notice of 
 the time which, as he had been wont to fay, was 
 to crown his hopes ; and every thing around con- 
 tributed more and more every day to the diflatis- 
 fa£lion of Clarifia. One day, having acciden- 
 tally dropped one of her dear Mifs Howe's let- 
 ters, her maid Dorcas obfcrving it, told Love- 
 lace that if ever he intended to come at any of 
 her young miftrefs's fecrtts, now was the time. 
 Lovelace accordingly entered the room as if in a 
 tranfport of joy, and clafped his arms about her, 
 *» O, my deareft life !" cried he, " I have hit 
 upon an excellent expedient to haften Mrs. 
 Fretchville from the houfe. My friends will foon 
 be with you ; and that nothing may be wanting 
 to gratify your utmoft punctilio, I \\ill continue 
 here at Mrs. Sinclair's, while you refide at your 
 new hcule. The reft 1 leave to your generofity." 
 And clafping her ftill clofer, he gave her a more 
 ardent kifs than ever he had dared before ; at the 
 fame time fetting his foot on the letter, he fcraped 
 it farther from her, as it were behind the chair» 
 Clariii'a was in a paffion at the liberty he had 
 taken j and Lovelace, bowing low, begged her 
 pardon, while ftooping ftill lower, in the fame 
 motion, he took up the letter and whipt it into 
 his bofom. The letter being unfolded, this 
 
 coull 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 <Rjuld not be accomplifhed without alarming her 
 ears. " Traitor ! Judas i what have you takea 
 up ?" exclaimed (lie, feizing the flolen letter. 
 *' O, my beloved," cried Lovelace, begging her 
 pardon, and clafping her hand which had hold of 
 the paper between his, *' can yciU think I have 
 not fome curiofity r" " \aX go my hand," re- 
 joined Clariffa. " How dare you. Sir? At this 
 rate I fee — too plainly fee — " More fhe could not 
 utter, but gafped, and was ready to faint. Love- 
 lace having gone thus far, and being loth to lofe 
 his prize, once more got hold of the rumpled 
 letter. " Impudent man !" cried ClarifTa, 
 fiamping with her foot — " For God fake !"— 
 Lovelace, hardened as he was, could refift no 
 longer. He accordingly reHgned the conteft ; 
 and no fooner had Clarifla recovered the letter, 
 whofe contents (he thus dearly prized, than flie 
 hurried to the door, which Lovelace throwing 
 himfelf in her way forcibly (hut, befeeching her 
 to forgive him \ but puQiing him from her with 
 all her ftrength, {lie flew to her own apartment, 
 (alas ! {he could fly no farther) where {lie double- 
 locked and double-bolted herfelf in. 
 
 CiariiTa, now more than ever convinced, by 
 the above treatment, of her deplorable fituatioii 
 with Lovelace, determined to make application 
 to her parents for forgivenefs, on the condition of 
 living a iingle life, and relinquifhing the eftate 
 bequeathed to her by her grandfather. For this 
 purpofe {he wrote to Mifs Howe, After the af- 
 fair of the letter, {he carefully avoided every oc- 
 cafion of feeing or fpeaking to Lovelace. The 
 following Sunday, however, having given orders 
 for a coach to carry her to church, ihc met him 
 C kr 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 in the paflage ready drefled, and in fpite of all 
 oppofition, he infifted on accompanying her. 
 Being thus compelled, as it were, to enter into 
 converfation with him, fhe plainly told him of 
 the application (he had made to her parents, and 
 her refolution to avoid the mod diftant inter- 
 courfe with him, till (he fhould learn the event. 
 At this intelligence he reddened, and feemed fur- 
 prifed ; but faid that " if it had not been for " 
 her having kept herfelf locked from him, ihe 
 might ere now have been in poffeffion of Mrs. 
 Fretchville's houfe, and have had fome of the 
 ladies of his family with her ; and that though he 
 would continue his paflive obfervance till the 
 iflue of her application, yet then fhe muft not 
 expe£l him to reft one moment till (he had fixed 
 the happy day,'' 
 
 Such was the fituation of Clarifla, when her 
 beloved friend Mifs Howe fent her notice that all 
 fubmiflion to her hard-hearted relations would be 
 fruitlefs, and advifed her (what it was impoi)iblc 
 for her to do) to marry as foon as fhe could, 
 Lovelace indeed ftill amufed her by pleading his 
 paflion, and reproaching her indifference. He 
 even fent her a copy of propofals relative to the 
 marriage fettlements, which feemed ftrongly to 
 evince his generofity ; but flill, whenever he 
 urged her to name the day, he 'mentioned feveral, 
 and, without allowing her time to fpeak, ram- 
 bled to other fubjedls. Once, on intimating his 
 
 hopes that in his uncle Lord M , fhe would 
 
 foon find a father, ClarilTa replied, that *' the 
 word Father had a fweet and venerable found 
 with it, and that fhe would be glad to have a 
 father wko would own her." far from improving 
 
 this 
 
( 27 ) 
 
 this half confent, afFe6lingly as it was uttered, 
 he mentioned his uncle's being laid up with the 
 gout, and again talked of fettlements and wri- 
 tings, which he knew would take up time. 
 
 Tired out with, and uneafy at, his indelicate 
 delays and objeiSlions,fhenowentertained thoughts 
 of efcaping from him, even though her relations 
 would neither receive nor own her. For this 
 purpofe (he wrote to Mifs flowe, who at length 
 fent her word that (he had found a fecure and 
 convenient retreat for her. At this crifis, the 
 behaviour of Lovelace gave her hopes, which 
 though tranfient, rather lulled her fufpicions. 
 In company with one of Mrs. Sinclair's imagi- 
 nary nieces, this artful libertine prevailed oni 
 ClarifTa to fuffer him to accompany her to a play. 
 This he did in order that the other women in 
 the houfe might have an opportunity, in confe- 
 quence of his diredtions, to fearch for, and copy 
 Mifs Howe's letters. Thefe were accordingly 
 found, and all the fevere reflections which the 
 amiable and virtuous friend of ClarifTa had thrown 
 on the bafe, cruel, and ungenerous conduct 
 of Lovelace, with the fchemes {he had formed 
 for robbing him of his prey, faithfully tran- 
 fcribed. 
 
 At thefe reflections Lovelace was the more ex- 
 afperated, as he knew them to be juft. They 
 ftrengthened his averfion to marriage, and deter- 
 mined him to leave no artifice unexerted, in order 
 to bring the haplefs Clarifla to live with him on 
 his own terms. No longer did he difcover any 
 tendernefs, but what was tinClured with a favage 
 fiercenefs, and burfts of paffion. Equally alarm- 
 ed and provoked at this behaviour, of which flic 
 C 2 never 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 irever guefled the caufe, fhe tore almoft in two 
 an anfwer which (lie had written to his propofals 
 in relation to the marriage, and which flrongly 
 exprefTed her virtue, her prudence, her filial 
 duty, and the noblenefs and delicacy of her foul. 
 Every bafe llratagem and falfehood was invented 
 and pra6lifed in order to furprife her credulity, 
 In thefe he was aided and aflifted by peribns of 
 the moft abandoned, principles and chara(5ler, 
 whom he rendered the tools of his villainy, and 
 tutored in the different parts he allotted for them 
 to a61. The houfe which he pretended to have 
 taken, and which he was prevented from carry- 
 ing her to by the delays of the imaginary Mrs, 
 Fretchville, had anfwered his purpofc, by indu- 
 cing Clariila to flay contented among people fhe 
 difliked. In order to carry on his vile purpofes 
 flill farther, he now gave out that this Mrs, 
 Fretchville was feized with the fmall pox, while, 
 to gain upon the tender heart of Clarifla, a re- 
 conciliation with her parents was affetSled to be 
 fet on foot by means of an experienced adept in 
 the arts of villainy, under the name and title of 
 Captain Tomlinfon. 
 
 The character which this old mifcreant had to 
 aflume, was that of a gentleman, who having 
 lately purchafed an eflate in the neighbourhood 
 of her uncle John Harlowe, in order to pafs the 
 few remaining years of his life in tranquillity and 
 retirement, had contradled an intimate friendfliip 
 •with him, and been informed, not only of the 
 unhappy llory of Clarifla, but of the overtures 
 which had been made for a reconciliation j over- 
 tures, which her uncle John had declared to 
 Tomlinfon hs would endeavour to bring to a 
 
 bearing. 
 
( 29 ) 
 
 bearing, provided Mr. Lovelace, and his niec« 
 were a(Stually married. 
 
 In vain v^^as every artifice employed which 
 might engage Clarirfa to fay to this pretended 
 Captain, that fhe was married ; flie gave Love- 
 lace a pofitive denial, declaring an abhorrence of 
 her folly and indifcretion in appearing as his wife 
 before his friends and the family, with a refolu- 
 tion that not even the fuccefs of her deareft 
 hopes fticuld again induce her to countenance 
 Ills falfehoods. This obl.iged him to alter his 
 plan. The fuppofed Captain tvas invited to 
 breakfaft, and Clariffvi, by Lovelace's cefre, 
 overheard the converfation ; in which the former 
 a<Sled his part fo dextroufly as to pain a place in 
 her efteem, and after v/hich, on Mr. Lovelace's 
 return from refpe^fuUy waiting upon him to the 
 outward door, llie m.^t him with a fmile of com- 
 placency beaming on every loveiy feature. 
 •* You know nor, Mr. Lrvelace," faid flie, 
 *' how near my heart this wiihed for reconcilia- 
 tion is. Already you behold me another cr-a- 
 turej already am I v/illing to banifh every difa- 
 greable remembrance. Oh! Mr. Lovelace, hovr 
 happy fhali 1 be, when my heart is lightened 
 from a father's curfe ! when my dear mama (hall 
 once more fold me to her indulgent bofrmi ! 
 when I fhall again have uncles and aunts, a bro-' 
 ther and a fifter, ail fi-riving who {liall (hew moft 
 favour and kindnefs to the poor outcaJU — ^then 
 no more an outcaft 1 And you, Mr. Lovelace, 
 to witnefs all this, to be received into a family 
 fo dear to me with welcome ! What though a 
 little cold at firfl, when they come to know yoa 
 better^ and to fee you oftejier 3 and you, as I 
 ' C 3 hope. 
 
{ 30 ) 
 
 hope, having entered upon anewcourfe, all wiH 
 be warmer and warmer love on both fides." 
 
 Thus I'pokethe innocent, the angelic Clarifla; 
 and to have heard her unmoved, Lovelace muft 
 have had a heart of ftone. After a momentary 
 paufe, and drying her eyes with her handker- 
 chief, (he retired to her apartment with precipi- 
 tation, as if fuddenly recollecting that fhe had 
 been to blame in giving fo free a vent to her joy^ 
 and left Lovelace with a heart too full for utter- 
 ance. But his compunction was of (bort dura- 
 tion ; the priv^*. and arrogance of his heart, his 
 rooted averfion to marriage, and hatred to the 
 family of Clarifla, flifled the dictates of confci- 
 ence, and diverted him not from his infamous 
 projeCls. 
 
 The pretended reconciliation was carried on* 
 with hoj.es of its being fpeedily compleated ; but 
 the more her doubts and fears were cleared up 
 and baniflied, the more he ftrove to gain upon 
 her affedions, and, by taking little freedoms, 
 to make way for the accomplifhment of the laft. 
 When thus he prefumed to take liberties with 
 her perfon which the delicacy of her virtue 
 would not allow, a vifit, or a letter from 
 Captain Tomlinfon, acquainting her of the mea- 
 fures taken by him and her uncle to bring about 
 the reconciliation, was always contrived to re- 
 move her refentment, and to rellore him to fa* 
 vour. 
 
 That no doubt might be entertained, mean 
 ipvhile, of the honour of his intentions, the mar- 
 riage fettlemcnts were drawn up and engrolfed, 
 and a licenfe was aClually applied for. Yet by 
 the vigilance of Clarifla, and the refolution fhe 
 had formed not to fufFer any tncroading freedoms, 
 
 her 
 
f 31 ) 
 
 her virtue was preferved, and all the attempts of 
 his enfnaring fondnefs were rendered inefFedluaK 
 Thefe difappointments, however, only ferved to 
 render his attempts more daring, and to impel 
 him, if poflible, to make a conqueft of her vir- 
 tue by furprife. 
 
 Several agreeable days had they paflfed toge- 
 ther, when Lovelace after fupper one evening 
 allowed her to leave him fooner than ufual, on 
 her promife that (he would not fit up to write or 
 read, but go immediately to bed. About two in 
 the morning an alarm Qi{ fire was given, and her 
 maid Dorcas running to her door, rapped loudly 
 at it, and cried out, " Fire ! fire I — The houfe 
 is on fire ! — Rife, Madam — this inftant rife, if 
 you would not be burnt in your bed !" Clarrfla 
 inftantly opened her door j and Lovelace flying 
 thither, beheld herfighing, trembling, and ready 
 to faint, drefTed only in her under petticoat, her 
 feet juft flipped into her ftioes, and leaning on 
 the arm of Dorcas. 
 
 At the fight of Lovelace, fhe panted, drug- 
 
 fled to fpeak, but could only utter, " Oh ! Mr. 
 iOvelace !'* With ardour he clafped her in his 
 arms, exclaiming, *' My deareft life ! fear no- 
 thing — I have been up — the danger is over — the 
 fire is got under! — And you, Dorcas (addreflSng 
 himCelf to her maid) how could you thus alarm 
 and frighten my angel !*' With thefe words» 
 lifting her to her bed, as if apprehenfive flie 
 ihould catch cold, he fat down by the fide of 
 ft, and endeavoured with the utmoft tendernefs 
 to diflTipatc her terror. But terror was ftill lefs 
 predominant, in the bofom of Clarifla, than in- 
 dignation. She appealed to Heaven againft his 
 treachery, vrhile he, by the moft folemn vows, 
 C 4 pleaded 
 
( 32 ) 
 
 pleaded his cwn equal fright, and the reality of 
 the danger which had alarmed them both. Now 
 with threats, now with foothing fupplications, 
 did (he conjure him to quit her chamber and fuffer 
 her to hid^-hcrfelf from the lighr, and from every 
 human eye. Ripeatcdly, on the other hand, did 
 Lovelace fue for her forgivenef?, and vow that 
 the next morning's fun fliould vvitnefs their nup- 
 tials J but Clarifla taking all his proteftations 
 as an indication that. he intended to proceed to 
 the iaft extremity, inftead of lifl:ening to his art- 
 ful fpeeches, redoubled her ftruggles to get from 
 him, declaring that (he would not furvive a treat- 
 ment fo difgraceful, and fo villainous ; while, 
 looking wildly around her, as if for fome inftru- 
 nicnt of milchief, (he efpied a pair of fliarp- 
 pcinted fciflars en a chair by the bed fide, and 
 eiideavGured to catch them up, as if bent on 
 making her words good on the i'pot. 
 
 LoveUce, feeing her defperation, begged that 
 (he would be pacified, that flie would hear him 
 fpcak but one word ; and fnatching the fcif- 
 fars, he threw them into the clilm.ncy. Clariffa ftill 
 infifling vehemently up. n his diftance, he per- 
 mitted her to take the chair ; and as her eyes ran 
 ever, yet feemcd to threaten future vengeance, 
 the unfeeling profligate clafped her once more to 
 his bofom. With the utmoft difiiculty could he 
 hold her, /o am;:zing was her force, confidering 
 the delicacy of her frame ; nor could he prevent 
 her Aiding through his arms, and falling upon 
 her knees at his feet. There in the anguifli of 
 her foul, with hands folded, hair difhevelleJ, 
 did fhc implore his compaflion and honour. Con- 
 fider me, ^c^ir Lovelace," faid (lie — *' on my 
 knees 1 beg ycu to conlider me, as a poor crea-* 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 fUre, who has no prote£lor but you ; who has 
 jio defence but your honour. By that honour ! 
 by your humanity ! by all you have avowed ! I 
 conjure you not to make me abhor myfelf ! — not 
 to make me vile in my own eyes !" On his men- 
 tioning the morrow as the happieft day of his life, 
 *' Tell me not of to-m.orrow," fhe cried. *' If 
 indeed you m.ean me honourably, now this very 
 inftant now\ you muft fiiew it, and begone." 
 The relentlefs villain then rudely killing her 
 neck, her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, and her 
 ftreaming eyes, as (he flill rem.ained kneeling aC 
 his feet, " Wicked wretch 1 infolent villain !'* 
 ej^claimed ClarilTa — <* Kill me ! kill me ! if I 
 am odious enough in your eyes to deferve this 
 treatment, and I will thank you ! Or, give me 
 but the means, and I will inftantly convince you 
 that my honour is di;arer to me than my life. For 
 your cwn fake^ if not for 7ny fake^ and as you 
 would that God Almighty, in your laft hour, 
 fhould have mercy upon j^w, fpare me." 
 
 Lovelace, hardened as he was, be|;an to be 
 afFedted. He would have raifed the" weeping 
 fupplicant from her knees ; but this (he refufed 
 till his foftened m.ind, fhe faid, had yielded to 
 her prayer, and bid her rile to be innocent. 
 
 " Rifc then, my angel," returned Lovelace — 
 *' rife, and be what you are, and ail you wifli to 
 be ! Only pronounce me pardoned for what has 
 pafled, and I will retire to my apartment." 
 *« God Almighty," faid ihe, " hear y/??^r prayers 
 in your moft arduous moments, as you have heard 
 jnine ! And now leave me, this moment leave me, 
 to my own recollection: in that you will leave 
 me to mifery enough, and more than you ought 
 to v/ifh to your bittereft enemy." 
 
 C 5 Still 
 
( s+ ) 
 
 Still, however, Lovelace refufed to leave hcf 
 till he had made her fay that (he had forgiven 
 him, and extorted a promife that (he would look 
 upon him the next day as if nothing had pafled ; 
 and nofooner had he entered his apartment, than 
 Kfleding on the opportunity he had loft, he re- 
 pented, and haftened back in hope that through 
 the diftrefs of mind in vi^hich he had left her, flic 
 had not fo foon faftencd her door, and in the full 
 refolution to execute all his purpofes, let the con- 
 fcquence be what it would. But he was difap* 
 pointed in his wicked views ; the door was al- 
 ready fecured, and by no perfuafions would (he 
 be induced to open it. 
 
 Repeatedly, but to no purpofe, did he rap the 
 next day at the d^or of lier apartment, and claim 
 the performance of her promife. He could not 
 even obtain an anfwcr j and looking through the 
 key-hole, he faw her on her knees, deprecating, 
 ^s he fuppofed, the maledi6lion of her cruel father. 
 Moved at the fight, he tenderly begged her to. 
 admit him lo her prefence ; but Clarilla declared 
 ^^ (he couia not fee him ! would to heaven (he 
 never had ! if (he wrote, it was all (he could do.'* 
 He then defired (he would favour him with a line, 
 4ind foon after he had withdrawn, Dorcas 
 brought him a letter, highly expreflive of the an- 
 gui(hofher foul, and herabhorrenceof his vilenef?, 
 which (he concluded by defiring that, for his own 
 fake, he would not wi(h for a week to come, to 
 fee the undefervedly injured and infuhed ClariiTa 
 Harlowe. 
 
 On this occafion feveral other letters pafTed be- 
 tween them, in which Clarifla maintained her 
 refoluiion of not feeing him, and Lovelace, ia 
 
 full 
 
( 35 ) 
 
 full confidence that by his ftratagems he (houlcf, 
 even at the laft extremity, be enabled to avoid a 
 marriage, urged her in the warmeft terms to accept 
 his hand, and again Teemed to be ftrenuous about 
 the licence, and marriage fettlements. On going 
 out, Dorcas acquainted Clarifla that Lovelace 
 was gone to Do6tor's-Commons, and would not 
 jeturn till late. She then urged her to take fome 
 lefreftiment. Clarifla, whofe eyes were fwelled 
 with weeping, refufed either to eat or drink, and 
 feemed ftill refolved not to fee her cruel oppref- 
 for for a week at leaft. At length, hdwever, 
 fhe ordered her to bring up three or four French 
 rolls with a little butter, and a decanter of wa*- 
 ter, telling her (he would difpenfe with her at^ 
 tendance. Dorcas confulted the infamous Mrs, 
 Sinclair about obeying her; who readily con- 
 fented, '* as Mr. Lovelace, {be faid, knew howr 
 to come at her at any time," and gave diredliona 
 for a bottle of fherry to be added. 
 
 Clarifla thought herfelf Co much obliged by 
 this chearful compliance, that (he confenced to 
 go up and look at the damage done by the jfire^ 
 the fhocking appearance of which feemed to fa- 
 tisfy her it was no trick, as ftie owned {he had at firft 
 apprehended it to be. She then difpatched Will, 
 a fervant of Lovelace, to the Poft-Oflice witli 
 a letter for Mifs Howe, with orders to enquire 
 if there were any for herfelf; but inft:ead of 
 fulfilling his meflage, he bafely delivered it to 
 his mafter, and pretended on his return there 
 were no letters for her. She afterwards employed 
 him to carry another to Mr. Lovelace; and, 
 taking the opportunity of his^bfence, {he flipped 
 dpwn ftairs, and unperceived efcaped into the 
 C6 ilreet 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 fireet with a fmall bundle in her hand. As fhe 
 ran haftily along:, a coachman plied her, and was 
 accepted. Stumbling precipitately into the coach, 
 fhe cried, " Drive faft ! very faft !" On being 
 fet down at Holborn-Bars, agreeably to her di- 
 retition, fhe went to the F^ampftead-Stage ; and 
 there being but two paflengers ready, (he took 
 all the vacant places, and made the coachman 
 diiveofF diredUy. The two palTengers defiring 
 to be fet down at the Upper Fiafk, Ihe gave di- 
 redlions to be fet down there alfo ; and on her 
 arrival there, being quite fpiritlefs and fatigued, 
 Ihe defired a difh of tea, and a room to herielf 
 for half an hour. Thence fhe directed her courfe 
 towards Hampftcad, where fne took a lodging 
 at one Mrs. Moore's, after having previoufly re- 
 ceived an .agreeable charader of her at a Ihop in 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 No fponer was Lovelace informed of her ef- 
 cape than, full of rage, he vented the bitterefl 
 curfes upon the whole family, and commanded 
 ofFhis fervant in fearch of her, with orders never 
 lo fee his face, till he had difcovcrcd where fhe 
 was. l^his rage was heightened by a long letter 
 from Mifs Howe to her dear Clarifla, which he 
 received and broke open, and which was filled 
 with execrations againft Lovelace, as a moft 
 abandoned monfter, founded on fufficient evi- 
 dence of the bafenefs of all his views. She ac- 
 counted for the manner in which fhe had come 
 by her intelligence, by informing her that a 
 young lady (one Mifs Lardncr, whom fhe had 
 fcen at her coufin Biddulph's) had feen her at 
 Saint James's church, but could not get near 
 enough for ClariiTa either to fee her, or to fpeak 
 
 witl) 
 
C 37 ) 
 
 with her *, that (he had ordered the fervant to 
 follow her till (he was houfed ; that the next 
 day (he had fent the fame fervant to make private 
 enquiry whether Lovelace lived under the fame 
 roof with her or not ; and this enquiry brought 
 out 'from different people, that the houfe had a 
 very infamous character; that the woman who 
 kept it was not named Sinclair, nor the itrect 
 it was in Dover-iireet ; and that there were two 
 houfes, the baclc houfe, in v.'hich all decent ap- 
 pearances were preCerved, and guefts rarely ad-p 
 mitted, and the other, the receptacle of thofe 
 who were abfolutely engaged, and broken to the 
 vile yoke of proftitution. At the fame time Mifs 
 Howe obferved, that having enquired into the 
 truth of the reconciliation pretended to be carried 
 on with her uncle by Captain Tomlinfon, fhchad. 
 found that it was a bafe impohtion, and that 
 Tomlinfon was a fpecious villain, the tool of 
 Lovelace, employed to carry on his bafe de« 
 figns. 
 
 While Lovelace, though highly enraged at 
 this letter, was rejoicing that it had not failexi? 
 into the hands of Clarifl'a, and forming fchemes 
 of revenge againft Mifs Howe, he r^eived a letter 
 from his fervant, intimating that he had traced; 
 every ftep ClariiTa had taken, and that (he was 
 now atHampftead, whence, from the precautions 
 he had adopted, it would be impoilible for her ta 
 remove without his notice. Lovelace, in an extafy 
 at this intelligence, fet out accordingly for the Up- 
 per Flafk, at Hampftead, richly drefied, in a chariot 
 and four, and attended by a footman whom Clarilfa 
 had never feen. The pretended Captain Tomlin- 
 fon, who alfo accompanied him; he left at the foot of 
 
 the 
 
C 38 ) 
 
 the kill, intending to make ufe of him, if it 
 fhould be found neceflary, to efFe6l a reconcilia- 
 tion. 
 
 The people of the houfe were previoufly taught 
 to believe by the crafty Will, that his lady was 
 lately married to one of the fineft gentlemen in 
 the world ; but he being eay and lively, ihe was 
 tnor tally jealous^ and in a fit of this fort had eloped 
 fiom him ; that fhe had three or four times played 
 his mader fuch tricks ; that this was her only 
 failing ; and that neverthelefs fhe loved him 
 dearly, and he doated upon her. 
 
 So far did ihe fellow ingratiate himfelf with 
 the people, by ftories like this, in which he had 
 been well tutored by his. mafter, that they helped 
 him to a change of cioaths, and privately en- 
 quired if (he actually remained at Mrs. Moore*s, 
 and for how long fhe had taken the lodgings ; 
 which he found was only for a week certain, but 
 that (he believed (he fhould hardly ftay fo long. 
 
 When Lovelace appeared, fo admirably did he 
 aft the part of the tender hufband, that he found 
 every body ready not only to oblige but to pity him. 
 On the pretence that if his fpoufe (hould fee him 
 at a diftance, fhe would make it very difficult for 
 him to get at her, he defired the landlord to 
 lend him a great coat with a cape ; which when 
 he had adjufted, and buttoned the cape over his 
 chin, he afked for a little powder, and lightly 
 fhook the puff over his hat, flapping one fide of 
 it over his eyes, ahd then put on a pair of 
 coarfe flirrup flockings, in order to give his legs 
 a gouty appearance. 
 
 Thus equipped, he left the public-houfe, and 
 on his arrival at Mrs, Moore's, alighted out of 
 
( 39 ) 
 
 his chariot, ftooping in the fiioulders, leaning 
 on his cane with one hand, and on his fervant 
 with the other. He pretended that he wanted 
 lodgings for his old wife, who laboured under a 
 complication of diforders, and performed the 
 character of an old gouty invalid fo admirably, 
 as to deceive Mrs. Moore. He hobbled up 
 flairs, and faw all the apartments, except Cla- 
 rifla's, and at laft even into that he got admiffion, 
 while fhe retired into a clofet. Determined to 
 bring her out, if poflible, he pretended to be go- 
 ing.—*" You cannot,*' faid he, " agree as to 
 any time, Mrs. Moore, when we can have this 
 third room, can you ?" adding, in a whifper loud 
 enough to be heard in the next room, " Not 
 that I would incommodate the lady ; but I would 
 tell my wife whereabouts—'' ClarifTa then, for 
 thefirft time, broke filence. " Mrs. Moore," faid 
 (Qie, <' you may acquaint the gentleman, that I 
 (hall ftay here only two or three days at moft, 
 till I receive an anfwer to a letter I have written 
 into the country ; and rather than be your hin- 
 drance, I will take up with an apartment a pair 
 of ftairs higher." — " Not for the world, young 
 lady," cried the difguifed Lovelace. " My 
 wife, as well as I love her, fhould lie in a garret 
 rather than put fuch a confiderate lady, as you 
 feem to be, to the leaft inconveniency." — As (he 
 had not yet opened the door, he added, " But 
 fince you have fo much goodnefs. Madam, if 
 I could but juft look into the clofet, I could tell 
 my wife whether it is large enough to hold a ca- 
 binet flie much values, and will have with her 
 pherever ihe goes,'* 
 
 Tkis 
 
( 40 ) 
 
 This hft flratagem had the defired tWi^d^, 
 Clarifia opened the door, and fo ftruck Lovelace 
 ^ith her piefence that he could hardly refrain 
 from difcovcring himfelf that inftant. From his 
 evident hefitation and confufion, and from cer- 
 tain words which dropped from him, rather un- 
 fuited to the charadter he then bore, fhe flarted ; 
 nor could Lovelace, with all his confidence, and, 
 v/Ith all his art, conceal himfelf any lon2;er. 
 Hj therefore unbuttoned his cape, pulltd off his 
 flouched hat, and threw open his great coat ; 
 and no fooner did the panic-ftruck ClarifTa fee 
 who it was, than, giving three violent fcreams, 
 {he inilantly fjnk down at his feet in a fit. 
 
 Mrs. Moore, alarmed at the fudden alteration 
 in his perfon, features, voice, and drejs, cried 
 out, " Murder, help ! Murder, help !" for half 
 a dozen times running. This alarmed the houfe, 
 and up ran two fervant maids, and Lovelace's 
 fervant along with them. Lovelace himfelf cried 
 out for water and hartfnorn, and every one flew 
 a different way, one of the maids as faft down as 
 {he came up j while the landlady ran out of one 
 room into another, and by turns up and down 
 the apartment they were in, wringing her hands,, 
 and not knowing what (he did. — Up then came, 
 running a gentleman and his fifler, brought in 
 by the maid, who had run down ; and who, hav- 
 ing, as foe faid, *' let in a crabbed old wretch,, 
 hobbling with the gout, and mumbling with a 
 hf)arfe, broken-toothed voice, was metamor- 
 phofed all at once into a lively, gay, young gen- 
 tleman, who could be neither more nor lefs than 
 the devil." 
 
 Aft 
 
( 41 ) 
 
 As for Lovelace, he was fo intent on reftoring 
 Clarifia, that he regarded no body elfe. And at 
 lad, fhe flowly recovering motion with bitter 
 fighs and fobs, he c^.Ued upon her in the ten^ 
 dereft accents, and declared that he forgave her. 
 The gentleman and his fifter knew not what to 
 make of all this ; and the lefs, when the fair one, 
 fnatching a look at him, again groaned, and 
 fainted away. 
 
 Lovelace then threw up the clofet-faQi for air, 
 and left her to the care of Mifs Rawlins, the 
 young gentlewoman, who had come in with her 
 ■brother, and of Mrs. Moore, who by this time 
 had recovered herfelf; while, retiring to a corner 
 of the adjoining room, he made his fervant pull 
 ofF his gouty flockings, brufh his hat, and loop 
 it up into the ufual fmart cock. — He then ftepped 
 back to the clofet, and addrefling himfelf to Mr. 
 Rawlins, whom, in the- general confufion, he 
 had not much minded before, " Sir," faid he, 
 *' you have an uncommon fcene before you. 
 The lady is my wife, and no gentleman's pre- 
 fence is necefiary here but my own." *' i beg 
 pardon, Sir," returned Mr. Rawlins; *' z/ the 
 lady be your wife, I have no bufmefs here : to. 
 Sir, by her concern at feeing you" — " None of 
 your i/s and buts, I befeech you. Sir," inter- 
 rupted Lovelace; " you are a very unqualified 
 judge, and I beg of you to oblige me with your 
 abfence." 
 
 The gentleman accordingly withdrew, and 
 Lovelace, finding Clarifla begin to recover, left 
 the clofet, left the fight of him too foon fhould 
 throw her back again. The firft words flie faid, 
 Joolcing round her with great emotion, were, 
 
 '' O 
 
C 42 ) 
 
 ** O hide me, hide me ! Is he gone ! O hide 
 me! Is he gone!" " Sir," faid Mifs Rawlins, 
 advancing to Lovelace, " this is ibme furprifing 
 cafe. The lady cannot bear the fight of you. 
 What you have done is beft known to yourfelf. 
 But another fuch fit will probably be her laft. 
 It would be but kind for you to retire." Love- 
 lace thought it behoved him to have Mifs Raw- 
 lins of his party ; and the rather as he had dif- 
 obliged her brother. " The dear creature,'* 
 faid he to her, ** may well be concerned to fee 
 me. If you i Madam, had a hufband who loved 
 you as 1 love her, you would not, I am confi- 
 dent, fly from him, and expofe yourfelf to ha- 
 zards, as ihe does whenever {he has not all her 
 way — And with a mind not capable of inten- 
 tional svil — but mother-fpoilt ! This is all her 
 fault; and the more inexcufable it is, as I am 
 the man of her choice, and have reafon to think 
 file loves me." Then added, taking her a little 
 on one fide nearer to Mrs. Moore, '' I have 
 three times already forgiven the dear creature, 
 3ut this jealoufy ! there is a fpice of that in it, 
 and of phrenzy too. — But our ftory is too long." 
 —He begged they would not fufFer her to talk, 
 for that, being accuftomed to fits, (he might con- 
 tinue to rave for a v/eek to come ; and on their 
 promife to keep her quiet, he withdrew into the 
 next room. 
 
 On the recovery of her fenfes, Clarifla was 
 full of the moft bitter exclamations. Un- 
 happy creature ! miferable ! ruined ! and un- 
 done ! fhe called herfelf ; wrung her hands, and 
 begged that Mrs. Moore and Mifs Rawlins would 
 ftiEft her to efcape from the terrible evils fhe 
 
 would 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 would otherwife be made to fuiFer. They 
 preached patience and quietnefs to her, and 
 would have had her to lie down : but (he refu- 
 fed ; finking, however, into an eafy chair j for 
 {he trembled fo, fhe could not ftand. 
 
 By this time Lovelace was in hopes that {he 
 was enough recovered to bear a preTtnce, which 
 he thought it behoved him to make her bear. 
 But the moment (he beheld him, fhe threw her 
 apron over her face, redoubled her exclamations, 
 and befought him to leave her. Seizing her 
 ilruggling hand, however, he told her that he 
 had a letter from Captain Tomiinfon ; and, 
 while he afFecSled to footh her with his tendernefs, 
 touched upon fuch topics as he knew would fet 
 her in a paflion, and confirm the intimation he 
 had given of a phrenfical diforder. Nor did thrs 
 artifice mifcarry. She bitterly inveighed againft 
 his bafenefs and villainy ; then with a ihower 
 of tears begged pardon of the women for her paf- 
 fionatc ej^cefs, '' Indeed, ladies," faid Love- 
 lace, with all the affurance imaginable, " thi3 
 violence is not natural to my beloved's temper, 
 Mifapprehenfion"--'- Mifapprehenfion, wretch 1" 
 interrupted Clarifla — " O thou guileful betrayer, 
 with a face fo unblufhing, how dareft thou ap- 
 pear in my prefence ?" 
 
 Lovelace now, thinking the character of a 
 hufband obliged him to be angry, exclaimed in 
 a loud voice, " You may one day. Madam, re- 
 pent this treatment ! You know I have not de- 
 ferved it of you — You know I have not. Never 
 did man of my figure and confideration meet 
 with fuch treatment." ClariiTa in fiient indig- 
 »ation lifted up her hands \ while her unworthy 
 
 per- 
 
( 44 ) 
 
 perfecutor went on accufing her of feverity and 
 injuftice in behaving to him in this manner be- 
 fore the two gentlewomen prefent, adding, that 
 fmce hmujl be To, he would have her to her 
 fate, and that, if {he would let him know whi- 
 ther to fend them, her apparel and every thing 
 belonging to her fhould be reftored. " Send 
 it to this place," replied (he, " and afTure me, 
 that ycu will never moleft me more ; never more 
 come near me ; and that is all I afk of you." 
 
 The women appeared to be more and more at 
 a lofs what to make cf the matter between them. 
 Lovelace, m.ean while, pretended to be going 
 from her in a pet j but turning back, when he 
 had got to the door, as if recoiledling himfelf, 
 *' One word more, my dearefb creature, charm- 
 ing even in your anger !" cried he. And turn- 
 ing half round, he excited the pity of Mrs. 
 Moore and Mifs Rawlins, by pulling out his 
 handkerchief, as if to wipe off the ftarting tear. 
 *' One word only. Madam, '^'repealed he : " I 
 have reprefented to Captain Tomlinfon, in the 
 moft favourable light, the caufe of our prefent 
 mifunderftanding. The letter I have in my 
 hand will acquaint you with what you have to 
 apprehend from your brother's active malice/ 
 The Captain, you know, h^s reported our mnr" 
 riage to two different perfons : it is come to your 
 brother's ears; my own relations have alfo heard 
 of it. Letters were brought me from town this 
 morning, from Lady Betty Laurence and Mifs 
 Montagu-e " *' Here they are," pulling them 
 out of his pocket, and offering them to her, with 
 that of the Captain^ flie ftill holding back her 
 hand that Ihe might not receive them, " Re- 
 
 fie^j^ 
 
( 45 > 
 
 ^qS:, Madam, I befeech you refledl, upon the 
 fatal confequences with which this your high 
 refentment may be attended." — 
 
 " Ever fince I knew you," faid ClarifTa, " I 
 have been in a wildernefs of doubt and error. • I 
 blefs God that I am out of your hands. I will 
 tranfacl for myfelf what relates to myfelf. Am 
 I not my own miftrefs ? Have you any title"— 
 The women flared ; and Lovelace, thinking it 
 high time to ftop her, raifed his voice to drown 
 hers. " You ufed, my deareft creature," faid 
 he, '« to have a tender and apprehenfive heart: 
 You never had fo much occafion for one as now.'' 
 *^ Let me judge for myfelf," rejoined Clarifla, 
 *' Do you think I fhall ever" — Still more did he 
 dread her going on : — " I muft be heard. Ma- 
 dam," cried he, raifing his voice higher and 
 higher. " You muj'i let me read one para« 
 graph or two of this letter to you, if you will not 
 read it yourfelf." Begone from me, man !" faid 
 fhe — " Begone with thy letters ! What pretence 
 haft thou for tormenting me with thy letters ?" 
 
 Lovelace afredled an aftonifliment at fuch quef- 
 tions, and continued to overbear her with words. 
 But when he found her filent, he lowered his 
 tone, intreated her to fee Captain Tomlinfon 
 with temper, and, for her own mind's fake, not 
 fruftrate his friendly negociation. Clariffa was 
 going to fpeak, but he prevented her by adding, 
 in a ftrong and folemn voice, '' If we are to fe^ 
 parate for ever^ this ifland fhall not long be trou- 
 bled with me.' Mean time, only be pleafed to 
 give thefe letters a perufal, and confider what is 
 to be faid to your unclis friend^ and what he is 
 to fay to your uncle,"-— And putting the letters 
 
 into 
 
C 46 ) 
 
 tnto her lap, he retired into the next apartment 
 with a low bow and a very folemn air. 
 
 Thither he was foon followed by Mrs. Moore 
 and Mifs Rawlins; to whom, determined to 
 (pare no pains to engage them in his intereft, he 
 communicated the hiftory of his own and Cla- 
 rilFa's family •, her averfion to Mr. Solmes, and 
 putting herfelf into his protection ; averring, 
 however, that they were privately married, 
 though his fpoufe had made him fwear to keep fe- 
 parate beds, and that to this fhe held him, iit 
 order to induce him the fooner to be reconciled 
 to her relations. As Mifs Howe had adually 
 deteded the bawd, to whofe houfe he had carried 
 ClariiTa, and might poflibly find fome way ftill 
 to acquaint her friend with her difcoveriesj he 
 thought it proper to prepoir(?rs them in favour of 
 the infanaous Sinclair, and her two nieces, and 
 to defcribe Mifs Howe as a virago, who, '* for 
 a head to contrive mifchief, and a heart to exc* 
 cute it, had hardly her equal in her fex.'* 
 
 Thefe points fatisfadlorily accomplifhed,' he 
 told them the occafion of their prefent difference ; 
 avowed the reality of the fire; but owned that hav- 
 ing an hufband's right on his fide, he would have 
 made no fcruple of breaking the unnatural oath 
 ihe had bound him in, when (he was fo acci- 
 dentally frightened into his arms ; and blamed 
 himfelf excefTively that he did not ; fince ihe 
 thought fit to carry her refentment fo high, and 
 had the injuflice tofuppofe the fire a contrivance 
 of his. — In a word, by owning mofl of the 
 charges which he did not doubt but Clariffa would 
 alledgeagainft him in their hearing; by giving the 
 worft parts of his ftory the gentleft turn ; by 
 
 reading 
 
( 47 )■ 
 
 1 eading to them part of Captain Tomlinfon's let« 
 tcr, and afterwards putting into their hands ths 
 copies of two letters, which he pretended to have 
 received from his coufms Lady Betty Laurenct 
 and Mifs Montague (in which they blamed him 
 for not acquainting them with his marriage, and 
 exprcfled their defire to pay the lady a vifit) 
 Lovelace not only gained over the widow Moore 
 and Mifs Rawlins to his intereft, but even pre- 
 vailed on the former to accept him for a boarder 
 and lodger. ClarifTa, however, abfolutely refu* 
 fing to lie in the fame houfe with him, he was 
 contented with lodgings in the neighbourhood ; 
 leave, being previoufly obtained for his fervant to 
 lie at Mrs. Moore's, in the view of preventing 
 the perfecuted fair one from efcaping, or recei- 
 ving a letter from Mifs Howe. 
 ' The widow and Mifs Rawlins pleaded with 
 Clarifla in behalf of Mr. Lovelace ; while fhe, 
 on the other hand, befought them, in the moft 
 diftrefsful terms, to favour her efcape. The 
 watchful Lovelace, overhearing what pafTed, and 
 fearful that (he would remove the falfe impref- 
 lions he had been making on the minds of thefe 
 virtuous women, interrupted their converfation 
 by his prefence. Clarifla, while fhe bitterly com- 
 plained that fhe could have no retirement unin- 
 vaded, aflced him if he v/ould fay before Mifs 
 Rawlins and Mrs, Moore that they were really 
 married ; adding, *' Lay your hand on your 
 heart and anfwer me. Am I your wedded wife ?" 
 —This was a home Itroke to Lovelace j who 
 well knew, that, fhould he pofitively aver it, fhe 
 would never more believe any thing he faid. He 
 therefore (kiifuUy avoided* a dire^ anfwer; and 
 
 though 
 
( 48 ) 
 
 thougti fne ftill urged the qucfilon, yet nothing 
 could (lie obtain from him but prevarication. 
 
 In vain did {he determine to leave the houfe 
 immediately j he detained her by fetting his back 
 againll: the door, then dropping on his knees 
 begged her pardon, and befought her to flay and 
 receive the promifed vifit of Lady Betty and his 
 coufin Montague, and alfo of Captain Tomlin- 
 fon, with the nev\ s of her uncle's compliance with 
 both their v^ifhes. The diftrefled Ciarifla was 
 ready to link, and forced to lean againfl; the 
 wainfcot as he kneeled at lier feet ; but at length, 
 a ftream of tears burning from her eyes, " Good 
 henven," (he cried, " what is at laft to be my 
 deftiny ! Deliver me from this dangerous man ; 
 and direct me ! I know not what 1 do ; what I 
 can do ; nor what I ought to do !''^-And turning 
 herfelf from him, fhe threw herfclf into a chair. 
 He arofe, approached her with reverence, and 
 began a tender harangue to her. But with a 
 face glowing with confcious dignity, (he inter- 
 rupted him. — " Ungenerous, ungrateful Love- 
 lace!" fa id fhe — '* You know not the value of 
 the heart you have infulted ! Nor can you con- 
 ceive how much my foul defpifes your mean- 
 nefs." 
 
 The women believing they were now likely to 
 be upon better terms, retired, though Ciarifla 
 oppofed their going. He then threw himfelf at 
 her feet, imploring her forgivenef?, and promi- 
 fing the molt exact circumfpedlion for the future ; 
 but (he declared that it was impofTible for her to 
 truft to his promifes ; nor could all his arguments 
 induce her to dine with him, or even for the pre- 
 fvnt to ;aftc any rcfrcfhrnent. 
 
 Befides 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 Befides Mlfs Rawlins and Lovelace, Mrs; 
 Moore had a niece, one Mrs. Bevis, a young wi- 
 dow, very forward, very lively, and a great ad- 
 mirer of Lovelace from the firft fight, to dine 
 with her. As this lady was to ftay a month 
 with her aunt, Lovelace was not a little bent on 
 engaging her to fide with him againft ClarifTa. 
 P'or this purpofe he reprefented Mifs Howe as 
 the caufe of all their mifunderftandings ; and 
 the villain Tomlinfon coming in, a converfa- 
 tion pafled between them dire£tly calculated to 
 make every one prefent believe that he was really- 
 married to Clarifla, and that Mifs Howe, from 
 rage and jealoufy at being flighted by him, took 
 every opportunity to widen the breach between 
 them. 
 
 This finiftied, Lovelace intimated he thought 
 it high time to acquaint his fpoufe, that Captain 
 Tomlinfon was come. Mrs, Moore accord- 
 ingly went up, and requefted in his name that 
 ihe would give them audience; but Clariflia de- 
 fired to be excufed as fhe was very ill ; and the 
 Captain^ who affected to have much important 
 bufinefs upon his hands, and to be not a little 
 vexed at this difappointment, took his leave till 
 the day following. 
 
 Hardly was this fellow gone when Lovelace 
 received from his fervant an intercepted letter 
 from Mifs Howe to ClarifTa, in anfwer to one 
 fhe had fent informing her of her efcape to Mrs. 
 Moore's ; of the low plot of firing the houfe, in or- 
 der to force her into the arms of Lovelace, and of 
 her firm perfuafion that the people themfelves 
 were infamous, fince, though (he could hear 
 them in the next room, they took not the fmaileft 
 D notice 
 
( so ) 
 
 notice of her cries. It was by Lovelace's direc- 
 tions that his fervant had obtained this anfwer of 
 Mils Howe: having flopped the meflenger, he 
 made him drunk, then, picking the letter out 
 of his pocket, carried it to his mafter ; who, 
 having found means to read it, without breaking 
 the feal, had it carried back and depofited in the 
 fellow's pocket, in this letter Mifs Howe con- 
 gratulated her dear friend on her efcape, and in- 
 formed her of her uneafmefs about a letter of 
 importance which ihe had fent fome time before, 
 and which {he would not have fall into Lovelace's 
 hands for the world. 
 
 Clarifl'a imm.ediately engaged a man and horfe td 
 go for a letter left for her at one Mr. Wilfon's, in 
 Pali-Mall, who returned that evening with a 
 letter, but not with that fent by Mifs Howe. 
 The letter which had given this dear and amiable 
 friend of Clarifia fo much concern was that al- 
 ready mentioned, in which (be had laid open the 
 wicked plots of Lovelace; of which, as he ftili 
 had it in his poffeiTion, he had copied thofe parts 
 that were in his favour, omitting every thing about 
 Sinclair and Tomiinfon, and at the fame time 
 imitating Mils Howe's hand fo artfully, that the 
 difference was hardly difcernable. The next day 
 Clarifia wrote to Mifs Howe that (he had re- 
 ceived her letter, but referring a further account 
 of her affairs. This (he gave to Mrs. Moore's 
 maid, who being courted by Lovelace's fervant, 
 gave it to him to put into the Poft-Office^ and he 
 to his mafter, who inftantly forged another, 
 more like what (he would have written had (he 
 in reality received the intelligence fent her by her 
 friend. 
 
 While 
 
(' 51 ) 
 
 While Lovelace was thus bufied In the vileft 
 arts of deceit and forgery, he behaved to Cla- 
 riffa with the utmoft tenderncfi. ; the fpecious 
 villain Tomlinfon was introduced to. her ; and 
 every argument was inforced which might en- 
 gage her confidence in Lovelace, and banifli all 
 apprehenfions of his defigns againll her. Th'jugK 
 his heart and his confcience ftrongly prompted 
 him, at the fame time, to merit her favour, by 
 laying afide his wicked plots ; ye't proflii;;acy, 
 aided by revenge and pride, made him ftiil re- 
 folve to humble her virtue, and before he mar- 
 ried to bring her down more to his own level. 
 So far was Clarifla blinded by his inilJious arts 
 that {he even allowed him her company, and 
 could not help {hewing feme compafiion for his 
 fseming diftrefs. 
 
 Still, however, {he would come to no deter- 
 mination till {he {bould receive another letter 
 from her dear and only friend Mifs Howe. This 
 Lovelace refolved, if poffible, to prevent. Ac- 
 cordingly on the arrival of a meflenger from that^ 
 Jady with a letter, which he peremptorily re- 
 fufed to deliver into any hands but thofe of 
 ClarifTa, Lovelace (his beloved, as he ufed to 
 call her, being gone to church with Mrs. 
 Moore) prevailed on Mrs. Bevis to perfonate 
 her, who lying on a couch with her face muffled 
 up, received the letter and gave it to Lovelace. 
 And indeed no fmall caufe of joy was it to Love- 
 lace that he had prevented its coming to her 
 hands ; Mifs Hov/e having confirmed what {he 
 hsd before written of the vile houfe, her rea- 
 fons for diftru{ling the fpecious Tomlinfon, and 
 D 2 for 
 
( 5^ ) 
 
 ^or thinking the whole flory of Mrs. Fretchville 
 an abfolute fiftion. 
 
 After enumerating thefe alarming particulars, 
 (he propofed a method for her efcape ; and Love- 
 lace, convinced of the neceflity of haftening his de- 
 figns, fcrupled not to employ two u^omen of the 
 town to perfonate Lady Betty Laurence and Mifs 
 Montague, and after inftru(Sting them in the parts 
 they were toa6V, to bring them to Mrs. Moore's. 
 The more thcfe pretended ladies talked to Cla- 
 rifla, the more they feemed to grow fond of her, 
 loaded her with carefTes, cenfured Lovelace, and 
 congratulated themfelves on the happinefs they 
 ihould receive from an alliance with her, could 
 they prevail on her to forgive him. 
 
 Though Clarifla had not the vanity to believe 
 all the high encomiums thefe ladies paid to her, 
 yet as ihe had no reafon to fufpedt her new vifi- 
 tors, file was not difpleafed at fo favourable a be- 
 ginning of an acquaintance with ladies of whom 
 Ihe had always heard honourable mention. They 
 fell into family talk, and family happinefs on 
 Clarifla's hoped for acceffion to it j launched out 
 in deferved praifes of Mifs Howe ; fpoke of a re- 
 conciliation and intimacy with every one of Cla- 
 rifla's family, her mother particularly, to whom 
 they gave the praifes which every body allowed 
 to be her due ; and thus induced Clarifla almoft 
 to forget her refentments againft their pretended 
 nephew. 
 
 Lady Betty (who, with Mifi Montague^ had 
 agreed to lie every night at Mrs. Moo;e's, ac- 
 commodations for that purpofe being at their fer- 
 vice) now fuddenly recolledling that (he mujl go 
 <0 town, ordered her coach to the door, tellini 
 
 Clarif 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 'Clarlfla they fhould go thither, and (he would 
 leave her woman to get her apartments in order. 
 In vain did the haplefs fair one intreat that fhe 
 might be left behind j ihe was led to the coach, 
 and Lady Betty gave orders for fupper againft 
 their return. 
 
 Nothing but the height of affe£lionate com- 
 plaifance pafTed all the way ; and OarifTa, though 
 not pleafed, was neverthelefs ftill thoughtlefs of 
 danger. But how dreadfully was (he alarmed when 
 Ihe found herfelf within light of the abominable 
 houfe froni which fhe had made her efcape, and 
 when the coach acl:ually flopped at the door !— • 
 Lovelace begged (he would be under no appre- 
 -henfion, and made a pretence of aflcing if there 
 were any letters for him. '' Why this terrot 
 my life," added he, obferving her ready to faint. 
 " You lliall not ftir out of the coach." — ** Your 
 lady will faint," faid the execrable Lady Betty. 
 •' My dearett niece^ we muit alight, if you are 
 fo ill. — Let us alight— only for a glafs of water 
 and hartfhorn — Indeed v/e muft alight." — " No, 
 no, no," cried Clariffa — " I am well — quite 
 well. Man, drive on I man, drive on!" 
 
 Dorcas, mean while, came to the door. *' My 
 deareil creature," faid Lovelace, " you fhall not 
 alight. Any letters for me, Dorcas ? — " Here 
 are two, Sir," replied the hufley ; " and here is 
 a gentleman waiting for your honour." — *' I'll 
 juft fpeak to him," returned Lovelace — " open 
 the door. You fhan't flep out, my dear.''— - 
 *' But we muj} ftep out nephew," faid the falfe 
 Lady Betty : Your Lady will faint. Maid, a 
 glafs of hartfliorn and water ! My dear, you muji 
 Hep out — you will faint, child— we muft cut your 
 D 3 laces— 
 
( 54 ) 
 
 laces — Indeed you muft (lep out, my dear.-^ 
 Lovelace faid, he knew (he would be well the 
 moment the coach drove from the door. She 
 fhould net al;ght by bis foul, fhe fliould not. — 
 *' Lord, lord, i^ephew ! Lord, lord, coufm !" 
 cried both the {h: ^ ladies in a breath — " What 
 ado you make about nothing !" You perftiade 
 your lady to be afraid of alighting. Sec you not 
 that (he is juft fainting V — " Indeed, Madam," 
 faid the vile feducer, " my deareft love muft not 
 be moved in this point againft her will."— 
 " Fiddle faddle, foolifh man 1" exclaimed the 
 pretended Lady Betty. *' Do you go out, fpeak 
 to your friend, and take your letters." 
 
 Lovelace obeyed j and while ClarifTa begged 
 that the coach might go on, the imaginary aunt 
 flill infifted oj] their alighting, ajlking her whom 
 fhe could be afraid of in her company, and that 
 of ht-r niece ; obferving at the fame time, that 
 the people muft have behaved fhockingly to her, 
 and that fhe was rcfolvcd to enquire into it. Im- 
 mediately came the old creature Sinclair to the 
 door, begging a thoufand pardons if fhe had any 
 way offended her, and intreated them all to 
 alight. The diftradted Clarifia was ready to fall 
 into fits. In vain, gafping for breath, did (he 
 call to the coachman to drive on ; a glafs of 
 hartfhorn and water, mixed with fome horrid in- 
 gredients was brought ; and not only did the pre- 
 tended Lady Betty prevail upon her to drink it 
 lip, but even, notwilhftanding ail her oppofition, 
 to alight, on the promife, however, of being 
 detained but a few minutes. 
 
 Tea was called for, and immediately brought. 
 Clarifla, however, drank only two diflies, ob- 
 ferving 
 
( 55 ) 
 
 ferving that the lafl particularly had an odd tafte. 
 She now found herfelf more and more difordered 
 in her head ; a heavy torpid pain encreafing faft 
 upon her. But this Ihe imputed to her terror; 
 and at the motion of the pretended ladies, (he 
 went upftairs, and iaimediately fet about taking 
 out fijme of her clothes. While flie was thus 
 employed, up came Lady Betty i:) a hurry. 
 " My dear," faid (lie, " you won't be long be- 
 fore you are ready ? I'll juft whip away and 
 change my drefs, and call upon you in an in- 
 ftant."— " O Madam," cried CJanfik, *< I am 
 ready! I am now ready ! You'muft not leave me 
 here." — '* This inftant," returned the other, 
 " This inflant I will return before you cm have 
 packed up your things." — And away (he flew 
 with her pretended niece, before Clariira could 
 fay another word. 
 
 The terrified ClarifTa funk into a chair. But 
 as ft ill (he had no fufpicion that theie women 
 were not the ladies they perfonated, (he blamed 
 herfelf for her fears ; and recovering her ftupi- 
 fied fenfes, as well as they could be recovered, 
 (he purfued her employment, not without rub- 
 bing her eyes, however, wonder-ing to Dorcas, 
 who was prefent, what" ailed her, and taking 
 pinch after pinch or fnuff. When every thing 
 was packed up that (he had defigned, and when 
 file found them tarry fo long, flie had like to 
 have gone diftrailed. Shutting herfelf up in the 
 chamber (he had formerly occupied, (he kneeled 
 and prayed ; then ran out again, crying, " It 
 is almoft dark night ;. Where, where, is Mr. 
 Lovelace ?" 
 
 D 4 The 
 
C 56 ) 
 
 The villainous feducer came to her, raved at 
 the whole fex for being always dilatory and un- 
 pun£lual, and fcnt his fervant to let Lady Betty 
 and his ccufin know how uneafy Clarifla and he 
 were at their delay, and to defire, if they did 
 not come inftantly, they would fend their coach, 
 and they would go without them. Clarifla, al- 
 mofl: wild with diflradion, complained of thirft. 
 Inftead of water, which fhe had defired, and 
 which they knew to be her common drink, they 
 brought her table beer ; which having fwallowed, 
 fhe inftantly found herfelf worfe and worfe. At 
 length came one of the pretended Lady Betty's 
 fcrvants with a letter to Lovelace to put ofF her 
 going to Hampftead that night, on the pretence 
 of violent fits which Mifs Montague was feized 
 with. This letter he fent up to Clarifla, who, 
 then concluded herfelf a loft creature. In a fit 
 of phrenfy fhe pulled off her head drefs and ruf- 
 fles, and ran to find out her vile betrayer ; at 
 whofe feet finking down, while with her arms 
 (he clafped about his knees, " Dear Lovelace," 
 fa id fhe, ** if ever — if ever — If ever" — And una- 
 ble to fpcak another word, down (he funk on the 
 floor proftrate, and fpeechlefs. 
 
 Though utterly aftcnifhed, and at a lofs either 
 what to fay or what to do, yet, having; proceeded 
 thus far, he determined not to recede. He lifted 
 her into a chair, told her that all her fears were 
 iieedlefs, and befought her reliance on his faith 
 and honour. " I fee, I fee, Mr. Lovelace," 
 faid fhe at length, with an heart-breaking fob— 
 *• I fee, I fee, that I am--rulned— ruined, if your 
 pity — Let me implore your pity !" — And down on 
 her bofom funk her head, with a fi^h that went 
 
 to 
 
( 57 ) 
 
 to the heart even of Lovelace. When a little re* 
 covered, {he afked why he did not fend for the 
 coach, and defired to go diredtly to Lady Betty 
 if (he was really Lady Betty; and then afluming 
 a more refolute fpirit, declared fhe would go ! (he 
 would enquire her way ! flie would go by herfelf ! 
 And would have ruihed by him. Pleading the 
 bad way Mifs Montague was in, he folded his 
 arms about, to detain her. But (he would be- 
 lieve nothing he faid, unlefs he would order a 
 coach, and let her go in it to Hampftead ; fhe 
 feared not robbers (for with fuch he endeavoured 
 to terrify her) he was all her fear, and that houfe 
 her terror; adding, " If you mean me honour- 
 ably, let me go out of this hated houfe." — As 
 fhe uttered thefe words, in came the vileft of vile 
 women, Mrs. Sinclair, in a ferment. — '* And 
 what pray, Madam, has this houfe done to you ?" 
 bav/led (he, fetting her huge arms a-kembo, 
 *' Let me tell you, Madam, I am amazed at the 
 freedoms you take with my character." 
 
 Clarifia, who had never feen any thing but ob- 
 fequioufnefs in this woman, was frightened at 
 her mafculine air and tierce look.—-'' God help 
 me !" cried fhe, " What will become of me 
 now ! Whom have I for a protestor ? What 
 will become of me now l" " I will be your pro- 
 tedlor, my dearefl love I" cried the execrable 
 Lovelace. " But, indeed, you are uncharitably 
 fevere upon poor Mrs. Sinclair. She is a gen- 
 tlewoman born, and, would fcorn to be guilty of 
 a wilful bafenefs." " I hope fo," faid ClarifTa— ■ 
 *^ it may be fo—I may be miftaken — But — but 
 there is no crime, I prefume, to fay I don't like 
 her houfe." The old dragon ftalkcd up with her 
 D 5 arms 
 
( S8 ) 
 
 arms again a-kembo, and accoHed the frightened 
 fair one; who, terrified, caught hold of Love- 
 lace's fleeve. Apprehenfive that (he would fall 
 into fits, he feverely reprimanded the enraged 
 beldam ; and the pacifying of her, and endea- 
 vouring to reconcile the lady to her, took up till 
 near one o'clock. 
 
 A£is of violence, heightened by every circum- 
 ilance of bafenefs and inhumanity then enfued. 
 In vain did the wretched ClarifTa, ftarting from 
 the dreadful lethargy into which (he gradually 
 funk, plead for mercy from Lovelace, and cry, 
 *' I will be your's — Indeed I will be your's, to 
 obtain your mercy 1" — No mercy could fhe find ! 
 Her llrength, her inteIle<Sls failed her. Fits fol- 
 lowed upon fits procured no compaflion to her. 
 And even death, which (he would have wel- 
 comed as the greateft mercy, was with-held from 
 her. 
 
 Thus, as a facrifice to the accurfed revenge, 
 profligacv, and pride, of an unprincipled villain, 
 was the amiable and virtuous Ciarifla, the orna- 
 ment of her fex, defpoiled of her honour, when, 
 by the mofl: diabolical artifices, (he was denied 
 the power of exerting herfelf in its defence. Nor 
 was it long before the monfter Lovelace had a 
 fpecimen of what the refentment of the injured 
 fair one would be on the recovery of her fenfes. 
 In the midft of his blandifliing endeavours, 
 the fecond day after, to pacify her difordered 
 mind, (he held up to heaven, in a fpeechlefs 
 agony, the licence he had procured for their pre- 
 tended marriage, and put into her pofP^ilion, as 
 if to call down vengeance upon him. But, ere 
 
( 59 ) 
 
 fhe could give vent, to her Intended imprecation, 
 fleep locked up all her fenfes. 
 
 The next day, from a ftate of torpid infen- 
 fibility, fhe pafted, a few lucid intervals ex- 
 cepted, to that of a frantic vivacity. Love- 
 lace, mean while, fhocked on recolle6ting the 
 bafenefs of his attempt, and the madnefs that fol- 
 lowed it, never gave himfelf leave to think without 
 feeling a temporary remorfe. But liftening to 
 the vile felicitations of the abandoned Sinclair, 
 he refumed his project of bringing her to live with 
 him as his miftrefs. And hearing that {he was 
 coming to fpeak to him, he rejoiced at the ad- 
 vantage which the confidence of his fex would 
 give him over the modefty of her's. But the 
 dignity of her manner at her firft appearance^ 
 the fedatenefs of her countenance, and the 
 fuperiority of her foul, exprefled by the awe- 
 ful language of offended innocence, fhook his 
 whole frame, and gave him the faultcring hefita- 
 tion of a guilty mifcreant. On her boldly a(king 
 him, in the courfe of this converfation, what 
 ihe was farther to fuffer from his barbarity, and 
 whether fhe was ftill to be kept a prifoner, he 
 was fo confounded, that, he could only ftammer 
 out broken and incoherent fentences, and an of- 
 fer of makiiig her amends by marriage. " Think- 
 eft thou," replied Clarifl'a, " that marriage will 
 fatisfy for a guilt like thine. Bereft as i am by 
 thy means both of friends and fortune, I loo much 
 defpile the wretch who could rob himfelf of his 
 wife's virtue, o endure the thoughts of thee, in the 
 light thou feemeft to hope I v.^ill accept thee in 1*' 
 
 Several oiher affecting converfatlons fhe had 
 with him; in all of which fhe flill claimed a 
 right to be left to her own liberty. She evea. 
 D 6 " madQ 
 
{ 6o ) 
 
 made repeated attempts to efcape. But Lovelace, 
 however awed by her virtues, while in her pre- 
 fence, would by no means fuffer her to leave the 
 houfe of that vile procurefs, Mrs. Sinclair. In 
 this diftrefsful fituation, while the haplefs Cla- 
 rifla, though repeatedly fo^.icitcd for pardon, and 
 urged to marry, was in hourly dread of fome 
 frefh a6l of violence, fhe thought (he obfcrved 
 ibme marks of compaflion in Dorcas ; and this 
 wench having, by Lovelace's diredlions, art- 
 fully worked into her favour, a61:ually received 
 from her a note promifing her a ring, and a fet- 
 tlement of twenty pounds a year for life, provided 
 fhe would procure her efcape. 
 
 Thus were matters fituated, when news arri- 
 ved that Lord M. was at the point of death, and 
 that he defired to fee his nephew before he died. 
 Lovelace, finding himfelf obliged to leave Cla- 
 rifla, and unable to engage her not to attempt 
 her efcape during his abfence, at length con- 
 fented to carry her to Hampftead the next morn- 
 ing, though he was himfelf to fet out at four 
 o'clock for his uncle's feat. 
 
 This night, however, Lovelace, partly from 
 the inftigations of the wicked women about him, 
 refolved to terrify the forlorn and helplefs Cla- 
 lifTa into a compliance with his wifhes. For this 
 purpofe he pretended to have found the promiflbry 
 note fhe had given to Dorcas j and, fetting the 
 whole houfe in an uproar, he called to his fer- 
 vant in a rage for Dorcas. On the appearance 
 of Dorcas, he drew his fword, with many bitter 
 imprecations ; and fhe ran up fcreaming to her 
 lady's door, as if for fafety and prote£tion, fol- 
 lowed by two or three of the fifterhood crying 
 cut, " What*c the matter ! what's the matter !•'* 
 
 ClariiTa, 
 
C 6r ) 
 
 ClarifTa, inftead of opening her door, irr come- 
 quenceof this alarm, rendered it more fall bydraw- 
 ing another bolt. " The abominable Dorcas 1'* 
 exclaimed Lovelace — Call her aunt up ! Let her 
 fee what a traitorefs {he has placed about me 1"— 
 Up came the aunt^ pufBng and blov/ing, crying, 
 *' As {he hoped for mercy ihe was not privy to 
 the tranfacStion between Clarifla and her niece ;'^ 
 adding, " Well might fervants be at the pafs 
 they were, when fuch ladies as Mrs. Lovelace 
 made no confcience of corrupting them." — Up 
 they all went into the dining rogm^ raving^, 
 *' Bring the creature before us all this inftant.^* 
 Dorcas was accordingly brought up whimpering 
 and whining, '^ I cannot look fo good and ge- 
 nerous a gentleman in the face." — " Tell me, 
 ungrateful devil," cried Lovelace, *'« tell me who 
 made the firft- advances." — *' A}^, difgrace to mj^ 
 family and blood," added Sinclair, " tell his 
 honour the truth ; tell who made the firft ad- 
 vances." " I have betrayed one t-ruft already,'* 
 faid Dorcas 5 " O let me not betray another ! 
 My lady is a good lady ; O let not her fufFer !" — 
 ^' Suppofe, Sir," faid Sally Martin, *' you have 
 the lady and the wench face to face ?" And turn- 
 ing to Dorcas, " Say was it your lady who 
 made the firft advances, or was it you, creature.^' 
 *« I hope, Sir," added the old hag, " you will 
 do them both juftice ] I hope you will find a way 
 to hear this caufe in her prefence, I value not my 
 doors on fuch an occafion as this. Juftice I ever 
 loved. I defire you will come at the bottom of 
 
 Prefently Clarifta's door was heard to unlock 
 ^M unbolt. That fhe might not efcape, Will 
 
 was 
 
( 62 ) . 
 
 was commodioufly placed below; and, that no 
 noife or fcreaming might be heard, every window- 
 fhutter was faftened. Yet, confiding in her own 
 innocence, (he entered among the infernal plot- 
 ters, with a majefty in her perfon and manner 
 which was natural to her, but which then ilione 
 cut in all its glory. Every tongue was filent, 
 every heart quaked ; fuch was the glorious 
 power of innocence exerted at that aweful mo- 
 ment. Indignation for feme time choaked her 
 iHterance ; but at length recovering her voice, 
 *' O rhou contemptible and abandoned Love- 
 lace," (lie cried, " thinkefl thou I fee not 
 through this poor villainous plot of thine, and of 
 thefe thy wicked accomplices ? Thou, woman,'* 
 looking at the o!o bawd, " once my horror 
 
 al- 
 
 ways my diflike ! hut now my deteitation ! 
 fliouldft once more have provided for me intc^xi- 
 cating potions, to rob me ut my fenfcs." Then 
 turning to Lovelace again, " Thou, wretch, 
 mighttft more fecurely have depended upon fuch 
 a low coiitrivance as this ! — And yc, vile women 
 (who have perhaps been the ruin, body and foul, 
 of hundreds of innocents; know that, ruined as 
 I am by your afJiftance, I biefs God I am not 
 married to this mifcreant; and that I have-friends 
 who will deniand my honour at your hands. 
 Look to it then, what farther infults you ofFer 
 me, or incite liim to ofFer. I never will be his ; 
 and to your utter ruin will I purfue you. A5 
 for thee, thou vile Dorcas," flie added, '* thou 
 double deceiver ! — iiegone, wretch ! Thy guilt is 
 thy fecurity in fuch a houfe as this ! Steal away 
 into darknefs ! No enquiry after this will be 
 
 made^ 
 
:( 63 ) 
 
 made, whofe were the firft advances, thine or 
 mine.'* 
 
 At this fpeech, ftruck by their confciences, 
 every one of the women trembled; and Dorcas, 
 opprefled with confufion and terror, flunk away» 
 Lovelace, though -both vexed and afhamed, ad- 
 vanced toward Clarifla with a fierce afpec>» 
 '* Stop where thou art, O vileft and moft aban- 
 doned of men !'* cried fne, turning to him ; " if 
 thou wouldft not that I ihould be a corpfe at thy 
 feet !" — To his aftonifhment (he then held forth 
 a penknife, with the point to her boforn." " I 
 offer no mifchief to any body," added (he. " You^ 
 Sir, and ye, women, are fafe from every vio- 
 lence ef mine ! The law (hall be all my refource ! 
 the law only (hall be my refuge !" 
 
 This menace ftruck a p^inic into them ; and 
 the infamous- bt'ldam whifpered Lovelace to let 
 the lady go. Sally Martin and Polly Horton pie- 
 tended not to know but (he was his wife ; and 
 the latter even faid, " If (he was not fo, (he had 
 been very much injured." — " That is not now 
 a matter to be difputed," cried Lovelace, ftill 
 perfifting. " You and I know, MaJam"— 
 •' We do knov/," interrupted ClarifTa ; and I 
 thank God I am not thine ; once more^ I thank 
 God for it ! I have no do .bt of the farther bafe- 
 nefs that thou haft intended me by this vile trick : 
 but I have my fenfes^ Lovelace ; and from my 
 heart I defpife thee, thou very poor Lovelace.'* 
 *— " Madam, Madam, Madam — th^l'e are in- 
 fults not to be borne," cried he. And again he 
 made an effort to approach her. But ClarifTa 
 with-drew to the door, and let her back agrinft 
 jt, holding the pointed knife to her heaving bo- 
 
 ibm j 
 
C 64 J 
 
 fom ; while the women held Lovelace, befeecB- 
 ing him, for the fake of their houfc^ rot to pro- 
 voke the violent lady. 
 
 At this diftance the truly heroic ClarifTa braved 
 him. " Approach me, Lovelace, if thou wilt," 
 faid (he, " 1 dare die. It is in defence of my 
 honour. God will be merciful to my po:'r iouM 
 I expedt no mercy from thee ! Two f-eps nearer 
 me, and thou fhalt fee what I will do !" Love- 
 lace now defired the women to leave him to him- 
 felf, and to his angel \ and on their retiring to 
 a diftancc, " O my beloved creature, how you 
 terrify me !" cried he, holding out his arms, and 
 kneeling on one knee — " I am a villain 1 the 
 blc^ckeft of villains ! Say you will fheath your 
 knife in the hca-t of the injurer, not the injured^ 
 and I will indeed approach you, but not elfe."-— 
 Happening unav^arcs to move a little forward, 
 *' And doft thou ftill infidioufly move toward 
 me?" faid (he, with one of her hands extended* 
 *' My heart from principle abhors the a6t which 
 thou makeft neccfiary ! God in thy mercy !" (and 
 (he lifted up her eyes and hands J '' God in thy 
 mercy 1" 
 
 More {he uttered not, but in filence ejaculated 
 the reft. Lovelace, mean while, threvi^ himfeif 
 to the farther end of the room ; his voice was 
 utterly broken, nor knew he what he faid, or 
 whether to the purpofe or not. On throwing her 
 eye toward him, Chrifla faw him ai the utmoft dif- 
 tance the room would allow ; when her charming 
 cheeks, which were all in a glow before, turned pale, 
 as if (he had been terrified at her own purpofe.-— 
 »' Thank God ! thank God !" cried flie ; <' deli- 
 vered for the prefsnt i for the prefent delivered 
 
 from 
 
( 65 ) 
 
 .from myfelf. " Keep that diftance, Sir T' 
 (looking down toward Lovelace, who was prof- 
 trate on the floor, his heart pierced, as if with 
 a thoufand daggers) " that diftance has faved a 
 life; to what referved, the Almighty only 
 knows !" — *' To be happy, Madam, and to make 
 happy," returned Lovelace. " And O let me but 
 hope for your favour for to-morrow ; — I will put 
 off my journey till then. — And may God — " 
 ** Swear not. Sir 1" interrupted Clariffa, with 
 an aweful and a piercing afpedl — ^' You have 
 too often fworn ! God's eye is upon us 1 his more 
 immediate eye," added fhe, v.'ith a wild look.— 
 *' If not to-morrow, Madam," cried he, " fay- 
 but next Thurfday, your uncle's birth-day ; fay 
 but next Thurfday!"—^' This I fay," replied 
 Clariffa,"and of this you may reft aflured, I never, 
 never, will be yours. And let me hope that 1 may 
 be entitled to the performance of your promife to be 
 permitted to leave this houfe as foon as the day 
 breaks." — " Did my perdition depend upon it, 
 that you cannot. Madam, but upon terms," re- 
 turned Lovelace. And I hope you will not ter- 
 rify me," he added, ftill dreading the fatal knife. 
 — " Nothing lefs than an attempt upon my hon- 
 eur fhall make me defperate," faid fhe i " I 
 have no view but to defend my honour ; 
 with fuch a view only I entered into a treaty 
 with your infamous agent below. The refolu- 
 tion you have feen, I truft, God will give me a- 
 gain upon the fame occafion. But for a lefs^ I 
 wiih not for it. Only take notice, women, that 
 I am no wife of this man : bafely as he has ufed 
 me, I am not his wife. He has no authority 
 over me. If he go away by and by, and you ai3: 
 by his authority to detain me. look to it."' 
 
 With 
 
( 66 ) 
 
 With thefe words, taking one of the lights^. 
 , fhe turned from them, and wer.t away unmo- 
 lefted ; not a foul having the lefolution tooppofe 
 her. Trembling, and m a hurry, fhe was i'^eti 
 to pull a key out of her pocket, with which ha- 
 ying unlocked her chamber-door, (he let herfelf 
 in, and fecured herfeif from farther outrage, at 
 }eaft for that night. By her taking out her key, 
 when file came from her chamber to them, fhe 
 doubtlefs fufpedled the dcfign of Lovelace ; which 
 was, to have carried her thither in his arms, if, 
 after being intimidated, fhe had made fuch force 
 recefTary, and to have been her companion for 
 that nighr. 
 
 Thus poorly did her diabolical feducer fuccced 
 in a contrivance from which he had expected 
 fo much, and from which he was now, if poiFi- 
 ble, ten times farther from his purpofe than ever. 
 Early in the morning he fet out for M. Hall, 
 from whence he fcnt feveial letters to her (di- 
 redled to her as his wife) apologifing for the de- 
 fpicable figure lie had made during their laft in- 
 terview, and bcfceching her to render him happy 
 the following Thurfday. As four of thcfe letters 
 were fent by fpecial mefTengers, who conftantly 
 returned without an arfwer, he now wrote to 
 Belford, his mofl intimate companion and cor- 
 refpondcnt, and to the pretended Captiin Tom- 
 linfon, to p^y her a vifit, and to exert every ef- 
 fort to reflore him to her favour. 
 
 The whole attention of ClarifTa, mean while, 
 was employed on the means of accompliOiing her 
 efcape. For this purpofe, having given Mabell, 
 a itrvant in the infamous houfe, a brown lute- 
 firing gown, (he took the opportunity, while the 
 
 niantua- 
 
( 67 ) 
 
 mantua-maker was trying It on in another room, 
 to flip over her own that the girl had pulled off 5 
 and putting on the wench's hood, cloak, and 
 ordinary apron, down (he went, and pafTed out 
 of the houfe without being obferved. No fooner 
 was (he mifTed, than the whole abandoned crew 
 burftout into mutual accufatlons. While nothing 
 but uproar and confufion were to be {ccn in the 
 houfe of the vile Sinclair, and while Lovelace at 
 M, Hall was raving, curfing, and fending or- 
 ders to fearch for ClarifTa in all the villages 
 about London, the cruelly injured and unhappy 
 'lady had taken lodgings at Mr. Smith's, a glover 
 •in King's Street, Covent Garden j where, with 
 uplifted hands, fhe ceafed not to praife God for 
 -her happy deliverance. 
 
 The firft'^ufe CiarifTa made of her liberty was, 
 to write to her -dear Alifs Howe, to inform her of 
 her efcape, and of the lofs of her honour. She 
 alfo applied by letter to the Lidy Betty Law- ^ 
 rence, and Mifs Montague, defiring to know 
 if (as (he had been taught to believej they had 
 written to Mr. Lovelace, blaming him for not 
 informing them of his marriage, and if they had 
 gone to Hampflcad, and brought her in a coach 
 and four to town. In anfvver, thefe refpecStable 
 ladies informed her that they had written no let- 
 ters on the fubject (he mentioned, and that ihey 
 had not been in town thefe fix months, or in 
 Hampftead for feveral years ; but expreiled their" 
 earneil: defire to fee her happily marrisd to Love- 
 lace ; an event, on which they founded all their 
 hopes of his reformation. But CiariiTa informed 
 them in her reply, of the villainies, forgeries and 
 perjuries, of which he had been guilty, with the 
 
 fatal 
 
( 68 ) 
 
 fatal confequences that followed them, and con- 
 cluded with obferving, that nothing ftiould ever 
 induce her to marry a man I'o vile, fo treacherous, 
 and fo profligate. 
 
 Unfortunately the letter which Clarifla had 
 fent to Mifs Howe, fell into the hands of her be- 
 loved friend's mother, who returned an anfwer 
 to her full of feverity, at a time too when her 
 mind was finking under the diftreffing thoughts of 
 the cruelty of her relations, whom Ihe had never 
 ceafed to love, and the reflexion of a father's 
 curfe. A few days after, her diftrefs was ftill 
 heightened, by receiving a letter from Mifs Howe 
 herfelf, reflecting upon her, for having volunta- 
 rily returned to the wicked Sinclair's, after {he 
 had informed her, in two letters, of the infa- 
 mous character of her houfe, and that Captaia 
 Tomlinfon was an impollor, and intimating her 
 having received the lall in a difordered manner, 
 lying on a couch, with a face bloated and flufh- 
 coloured. 
 
 Equally mortified, grieved, and aftonifhed, at 
 the contents of this letter, Clarifla now con- 
 cluded that {he had loft her only friend. In her 
 reply, Ihc vindicated her own condu6l from the 
 charge of imprudence, fending back the long 
 letter which had been forged by Lovelace, and 
 which was only an abftra6t, fuited to his own 
 purpofe, of that fent by her friend, Mifs Howe 
 was not a little furprized, at feeing fo exa(5l an 
 imitation of her hand ; and inftantly acquitting 
 her lovely and beloved friend, /h'j wrote t ) in- 
 form her of this bafe forgery ; inclofmg at the 
 fame time, the rough draught of the long letter 
 ihe ought to have received, as well as the fub- 
 
 flaace 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 ftatice of that intercepted at Hampftead by Mrs.- 
 jjevis, through the pcrlbnating ilratagem of 
 Lovciace. Againit him alone the refentment of 
 Mil's H«"^we Wd' /.ow leveUed ; and though both 
 (he and her mother joined in perfuading her to 
 prol'ecuie the abar.doned villain, yet all their ar- 
 guments on this head ^ere lolt on ClarifTa. 
 
 Whjle rre'h in fiances of Lovelace's bafenefs 
 were thus daily coming to light, tne Lady Betty 
 Laurence and Mifs Montague paid a viiit to 
 Lord M. and in the prefence of his Lordfhip 
 read to Lovelace the letters they had received 
 from Clarifla, reproaching him for his villainy. 
 Their accufations he heard with temper; for his 
 bafenefs he reproached himftlf ; and \n fuch high 
 terms did he talk of the virtues and perfedtions 
 of the lady ; fo earneft did he feem to make her 
 all the fatisfadtion in his power, that they at laft 
 refolved to ufe all their influence to engage her 
 to forgive him. For this purpofe Mifs Monta- 
 gue, and her fifter Lady Sadlair, a61:ually went 
 in Lord M's coach to Mifs Howe, in hopes that 
 ihe might prevail with the unhappy Clarifla, to 
 put herfelf into the protection ot Lady Betty Lau- 
 rence, who promifed not to part with her, till 
 Ihe faw all the juilice done to her which fhe could 
 now receive. 
 
 Mifs Howe, induced to it by their arguments, 
 accordingly wrote to Clarifla by the pofl:, ftrong- 
 ly urging her to marry Lovelace, and (hewing 
 that this was the only method by which flie could 
 now be happy. To this letter (he defired an im- 
 mediate an fwer ; but no anfwer came. Rather 
 piqued that Clarifl^a (hould keep her thus in fuf- 
 pence, ihe wrote a fccond letter to her, and fent 
 
 it 
 
( 70 ) 
 
 It by a rpecial mefTenger, who travelled all night, 
 and carried it to her new lodgings at Mr. Smith's. 
 There it now come out that (he had been mifling 
 feveral days j that after going out one morning, 
 about fix o'clock, to prayers at Covent-Garden 
 church, very poorly in health, ihe had not been 
 heard of fince, though fhe left v/ord flie fhould 
 be back in an hour. This dreadful intelligence 
 being received, the melTenger returned poft-hafte 
 to communicate it to Mifs Howe ; who, in the 
 phrenzy of her foul at this unlooked-for event, 
 immediately wrote to Mifs Montague a mofl af- 
 fedling letter, to demand tidings of her friend. 
 
 The fudden difappearance of the haplefs Cla- 
 rlfTa comes now to be accounted for. Thus then 
 with horrid inhumanity was it brought about by 
 the abandoned, yet over-ofiicious, tools of the 
 wretched Lovelace ; though without either his 
 knowledge, or approbation. — Dorcas having feen 
 her. go out of Mr. Smith's, and walk to Covent- 
 Garden church, in order to hear morning pray- 
 ers, Lovelace's man was fet to watch her ; and 
 at the fuit of the abominable Sinclair, {he was 
 arreftexi for the fum of one hundred and fifty 
 pounds, which it was pretended was due for 
 board and lodging; and this notwithftanding her 
 clothes and effe6ls were ftill in the houfe of that 
 vile brothel-keeper. On being flopped by the' 
 officers, who whifpered her that they had a writ 
 agiinft her, and that (he muft go with them, the 
 terrified Clariflii trembled, and turned pale. Ig- 
 norant of what they meant, {he for fome time 
 expoftulatcd with the officers ; but at length, 
 oblerving Lovelace's fervant, fhe called out for 
 help. A crowd inftanJy gathered about her ; , 
 
 and 
 
C 71 ) 
 
 and while fome were ftruck with compafllon at 
 feeing a fine young creature in fuch diitrefs, 
 others threw out vile and (hocking reflexions. 
 
 " Weil, if I muft go, I muft !'' cried Cia- 
 rlfla ready to fink into the earth — *^ I cannot re- 
 fift — but I will not be carried to the v/oman's !— 
 I will rather die at your feet than be carried to 
 the woman's 1" — On being told (he (hould not be 
 carried thither, fhe looked about her, obferved 
 the crowd, ftarted, and fhrieked out, " Any 
 where, any where, but to the woman's !" And 
 Hepping into a chair which was in readinefs to 
 receive her, fhe threw herfelf on the feat in the 
 utmoft diftrefs and confufion, crying, " Carry 
 me, carry me out of fight — cover me — cover me 
 up — for ever '." — When taken out of the chair, 
 on reaching the officer's houfe, which was in a 
 mean court in Holborn, llie fainted. There (he was 
 received by Sally, one of the pretended nieces of 
 Mrs. Sinclair ; who, as a favour, offered to have 
 her carried back to her former lodgings; but 
 this Clariila refufed with the abhorrence it de- 
 fer ved. 
 
 No fooner was this infernal tranfa£l:ion accom- 
 pliflied, than the vile bawd difpatched a man and 
 horfe to Lovelace with the joyful news. Three 
 or four days had elapfed, however, before it 
 reached his ears, as he happened to be taking a 
 fhort tour for three or four days with Lord M, 
 and his two nieces. His mind had now begun to 
 take a ditferent turn ; and finding that though 
 he could not be happy without her, yet it was 
 impoffible to bring her to be his miftrefs, he 
 at length fmcerely refolved to make her all the 
 atonement in his power, by making her his wife. 
 
 Thus 
 
( 72 > 
 
 Thus was he i^ifpofed, when the news came that- 
 his angel Clarilla was put under an arreft by the 
 monfter Sinclair. Equally afhamed and enraged 
 at the low villainy of the proceeding, he inftantly 
 wrote to his friend Mr. Belford, and fending a 
 itieflenger as for life and death, defired him to 
 haften to Clarifia ; to clear him of having had 
 any fhare in the low contrivance ; to fet her free 
 without conditions ; to afTure her that wherever 
 file went, he would not moleft her, would not 
 even come near her without her leave ; and, as a 
 proof of his fmcerity, to let her have all her 
 clothes and efFedls. 
 
 This gentleman, who had been for fome 
 time an advocate with Lovelace in behalf of 
 Ciariffa, and who had repeatedly urged his friend 
 to do juftice to her injured merit, went with all 
 dlfpatch to the odious Sinclair's ; from whence, 
 difappointed of feeing the lady there, he pofted 
 to the officer's. But for the prefent, he was de- 
 nied the fight of Clarifia, as it was Sunday, and 
 fhe had refolved to have the remainder of the 
 day to herfelf. — How was he (hocked the next 
 morning, when introduced to the dreadful place 
 in which (he was immured! — He found her 
 kneeling in a corner of the room, near a dif- 
 mal broken window fecured with iron bars; her 
 arms crofTed upon a table ; the fore finger of her 
 right hand in a bible ; and her face, yet lovely, 
 in fpite of all her griefs and fufFerings, reclined 
 upon her arm. 
 
 Soon as the charming fufFerer beheld him, fhc 
 raifed her lovely face, overfpread with the moft 
 fignificant woe, and waved her hand toward the 
 door> as if commanding him to withdraw. Mr. 
 
 Belford 
 
( n ) 
 
 fielford begged for the favour of her ear for a 
 moment, but this (he abfolutely refufed ; nor did 
 he dare to approach her, but on his knees be- 
 fought her to permit him to releafe her from that 
 wretched houfe, and out of the power of the 
 vile woman, who was the occafion of her being 
 there. Once more (he lifted up her fweet face, 
 and faid, " Are not you Mr. Belford, Sir? I 
 think your name is Belford ?"— «« It is Madam." 
 be replied, '* and I ever was a worfliipper of 
 your virtues, and an advocate for you ! I come 
 to releafe you from the hands you are in*"— ^ 
 *' And into whofe place me ?" cried fhe. " O 
 leave me, leave me ! Let me never rife from this 
 fpot ! Let me never, never more believe in 
 man !'* — " This moment, deareft lady,'* con- 
 tinued Belford, <* this very moment, if you 
 pleafe, you may depart whitherfoever you think 
 fit ; your are abfolutely free, and your own mif- 
 trefe." — " I had now as lieve die in this place ai 
 *ny where. I will owe no obligation to any 
 friend of him in whofe company you have feexi 
 me. So pray. Sir, withdraw." 
 
 She then turned to the officer, telling him, 
 that (he was better reconciled to his houfe thant 
 at firft, and that if he could but engage no bod/ 
 ihould come near her but his wife, fne would 
 die with him, and they fhould be well fatisfied 
 for the trouble they had with her. And then, 
 addrefling herfelf to Mr, Belford, (he again con-^ 
 jured him to withdraw, repeating that fhe would 
 owe no obligation to the friend of her dejiroyer ^ 
 while, offering to rife, (he funk down through 
 w^akftefs aod gcief in a fainting fit, 
 
 £ Mr/ 
 
( 74 ) 
 
 Mr. Bel ford and the officer then withdrew^ 
 even the latter crying like a child, and laying, 
 he never in his life was fo moved, and left her 
 to the care of the v^'oman of the houfe. Being 
 told, on her recovery, that fhe was fo weak and 
 low fhe could hardly fpeak, Belford took this 
 opportunity to go to her lodgings, in order to 
 fetch Mrs. Smith. She was not, however, at 
 home ; but finding that two letters had been left 
 for Clarifla, he huflened back with them to her. 
 On his return to the officer's, he found chat an 
 apothecary who had been fent for, was jufl gone 
 up, and the officer's wife being above with him, 
 he made the lefs fcruple to go up too. Clarifla, 
 at feeing Mr. Belford, feeintd offended, and 
 faid it wrs not the-leaft of her misfortunes, that 
 ihe could not be left to her own fex. He be- 
 fought her excufe ; and winking to the apothe- 
 cary to withdraw, (a ihabby looking fellow, 
 w^hofe prefence was alfo offenfive to ClarifFa) he. 
 told her, j?refuming fhe would go thither, that he 
 had been at her new iod;;ings, to order every 
 thing to be got ready for her reception ; that Mr. 
 Smith and his wife had been full of apprehen- 
 henfions for her fafcty ; and that he had brought 
 two letters which had been left there for her 
 during her abfence. 
 
 Thofe leacrs, ClarifTa faid, were from the 
 only friend Ihe hall in the world, and twice pref- 
 fing them to her lips, and looking at the feals, 
 fhe put them in her bofon.. Again did Belford 
 befeech her to think of quitting that wretched 
 hple, and ^ave her the moll: folemn alTurances^ 
 that fl'ie fhould not be invaded in her new lodg- 
 ings by any body; he particularly engaged his 
 
 honour 
 
( 75 ) 
 
 honour, that the perfon who had mbft ofFended, 
 fhould not come near her without her own con- 
 fent, — " Tour honour. Sir," faid Khe j " Arc 
 you not that man's friend ?" " I am not a friend. 
 Madam,'* replied he, " to his vile adions to the 
 moft excellent of women." — *' Oh, Sir," faid 
 fhe, " your friend, your barbarous friend, what 
 has he not to anfwer for ?" 
 
 There fhe flopped, her heart too full to pro- 
 ceed ; and putting her hand over her eyes and 
 forehead, the tears trickled through her fingers. 
 Belford then gave her every aflurance in his 
 power of Lovelace's innocence of the laft out- 
 rage, and of his refolution not to moleft her ; 
 befeeching her to give him diredlions about fend- 
 ing her apparel, and whatever belonged to her, 
 to her new lodgings. ClarifTa then gave him 
 her keys, afking if Mrs. Smith might not at- 
 tend her, and would give her farther directions. 
 To this he chearfully afTented, and fhe then, 
 agreed to accept his offer for a chair ; to which 
 (after every demand and gratuity was gc^neroufly 
 paid by Mr. Belford, who had retired for that 
 purpofe) (he was at length condudbd, leaning 
 on his arm. 
 
 On her arrival at Mrs. Smith's, ClarifTa threw 
 off thofe clothes (he were ever fince fhe left 
 h'er lodgings, and went to bed ; and prefendy, 
 by the direction of Mr. Belford, all her clothes 
 and other effects were packed up, arid fent to 
 her from the vile Sinclair's. Her firft employ- 
 ment now was to acquaint her beloved friend 
 Mifs Howe with the fhock fhe had fuffered in 
 being arrefled in the open flreet, and carried to 
 prifon. 
 
 E 2 The 
 
( -6 ) 
 
 The people of the houfe, finding it neceflary 
 the day following, from her bad flate of health, 
 provided an excellent nurfe for Clarifia. She 
 had likewife the benefit of the voluntary atten- 
 dance of one Mrs. Lovick, a gentlewoman in 
 decayed circumftances, but of exemplary piety, 
 who lodged over her apartments, and of whom 
 (he became exceedingly fond. An apothecary of 
 reputation was alfo called in ; and a few days 
 after (he confented to receive the vifits of Dodtor 
 D 5 a phyfician recommended by Mr. Bel- 
 lord, and not lefs eminent for his humanity and 
 rifFedionate behaviour, than for his ikill in his 
 profeflion. 
 
 Mr. Bel ford, on the firfl vifit he was permitted 
 to pay Clarifia, ftill afl'erted in the mofl: earneft 
 manner, the innocence of his friend Lovelace, 
 as to the villanous arreft 5 but fhe would liften to 
 no argument, by which he would have induced 
 her to think of marrying, or even of feeing him. 
 Yet, from the unexceptionable tenor of his 
 whole condu£>, fhe would not refufe his vifits ; 
 and her converfation had fuch an efFedl upon his 
 mind, as to make him detefl: b'mfelf for his for-t 
 mer vicious practices, and refolve to regulate 
 his defircs, by the unerring fl:andard. of religion 
 and virtue. 
 
 As the fufferings of the unhappy Clarifia had 
 been more than her tender years could fupport,j 
 fo (he now gradually declined, and her illnefs 
 daily encreafed. Thus dreadfully fituated, and 
 abandoned by all her friends, (he found no con- 
 folation, but in the tendernefs of the worthy 
 Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith, and in the aflfec- 
 lionate vifits of her benevolent do^or and apo- 
 thecary. 
 
f 77 ) 
 ithecary. Prepared for death, which already 
 haftened its approaches, fhe banifhed every re- 
 fentment from her breaft, and even offered up 
 petitions for him who leaft deferved them, the 
 unworthy author of all her forrovvs. As evca 
 in the midft of thefe, (he had uniformly pre- 
 ferved the moft tender afFeilion for her relations, 
 whom (he would never fuiicr to be charged with 
 cruelty for their treatment to her ; fhe nov/ wrote 
 a very moving letter to her fifter Arabella, that 
 Ihe might iniercede with her father, to revoke 
 that heavy part of the maledidlion he had. laid 
 upon her . which related to hereafter. To this 
 ihe received an anfwer, full of the mofl bitter 
 reproaches ; her fifter telling her, that her father 
 withdrew the curfe he had laid upon her, fo far 
 as it was in his power to do it ; bjt that he 
 would never own or forgive her, and that he 
 grieved he had fuch a daughter. 
 
 The unjuft and cruel reflections in every line 
 of this le'ter, ClarifTa received without repining. 
 Finding herfelf draw near the period of her 
 days, fhe even wrote again to her filler, to in- 
 form them of this circumftance, and to beg that 
 one or both of her parents, would fend her their 
 laft bleffing ; but to this requefl, the hapiefs 
 ClarifTa received an abfolute denial, couched iii 
 the moft barbarous and aiflitSting terms. Thus 
 treated by an unfeeling and reientlefs fifler, fhe 
 wrote on her knees, a moft tender and afftrcling 
 letter on the fame purpofe to her dear mama; 
 and after that to each of her uncles. But all 
 her applications were in vain : Her afFe6lionate 
 mother, who would have rejoiced to take her to 
 her bofom, was ail meeknefs \ her wifhes were 
 E ^ therefore 
 
( 7« ) 
 
 therefore over-ruled, and the kind, the endearing 
 blefiing, was ftill denied. 
 
 Defirous, mean while, to know whether flie 
 was really fo ill as (he pretended, and in what 
 rjanner (lie lived ; the relations of Clarifla com- 
 miffioned one Brand, an officious pragmatical 
 young feilow, who had lately taken order?, to 
 make the neceflary enquiries. The refult of thefe 
 Vas, that though Clarifla was exceedingly ill, 
 yet (he was viiited by one of Mr. Lovelace's 
 inoft intimate friends j and that though (he often 
 uent out in a chair, as it was faid to prayers, 
 yet (as this officious wifeacre with great propriety 
 audcd) fiothing was faid to be more common in 
 London, than to make the hearing of morning 
 prayers a cover for private affignations. Having 
 coi'edled this conjectural fcandal from two wo- 
 nicn, a milliner and a mantua-ihaker, who lived 
 cjppoiite to Clarifla's lodgings, the bufy coxcomb 
 hafcened to communicate it to her relations ; 
 when, fuch was the fpirit by which they were 
 actuated, they ran away with the worft it infinu- 
 ated, and Arabella was actually authorifed to 
 v.rits to her filler, with a propofal that (he (hould 
 t;jkc a voyage to one of the colonies, as the 
 only way to avoid Mr. Belford and Mr. Love- 
 lace. 
 
 /it this crifis, arrived from abroad Colonel 
 Morden, a coufin of ClariflTa, and the truftee 
 for the eftate left her by htr grandfather. In- 
 formed of the deplorable fituation of Clarifla, 
 whom he had not lecn fince (he was twelve years 
 of age, and for whom he had ever entertained 
 the molt fincere afFcdion ; he determined to take 
 his own meafures to put her in pofTeffion of her 
 
 ' eflate, 
 
( 79 ) • 
 
 efiate, and to oblige Lovelace to marry liei» 
 For this purpofe he paid a vifit to M. Hall ; where, 
 
 ■ after a very warm and pallioiiate altercation with 
 his lordlhip, and Mr. Lovelace, they became 
 more compofed ; and the latter doing juftice to 
 
 rthe virtue and merits of ClarifTa, and freely cen- 
 furing his own conduct (concealing, however, 
 the blackeft inftance of his villainy) and at the 
 fame time, profeiTing his earneft defire to make 
 her all the recompence in his power by marrying 
 her, as foon as ihe would permit him that ho- 
 nour, they came to a mutual underllanding ; on 
 which Lovelace (hewed Colonel Morden feve- 
 ral of the letters which had pafled between them, 
 and toid him of the noble offers made by his 
 uncle Lord M. and the different ladies of His 
 family, even after the amiable Clariila had ut- 
 terly rejedted him. 
 
 The Colonel took his leave, delighted with 
 this inftance of generofity, and perfectly fatisfied 
 with Lovelace. He accordingly wrote a moft 
 afFedtionate letter to his coufm, in order to pre- 
 vail with her to accept cf him for a hufband, 
 to comfort her under her illnefs, and to inform 
 her, that as he would be her conftant friend, fo 
 he was then making ufe of all his endeavours to 
 effe6t a happy reconciliation between her rela- 
 tions and her; which he fhould no fooner have 
 accomplifhed, than he would himfelf wait on 
 her with the joyful tidings. 
 
 Fully convinced of Clariffa's innocence, he 
 at the fame time fent a perfon of difcretion, to 
 enquire into the manner in which flie was fup- 
 ported ; and to his utter amazement he found, 
 that fhe was reduced to the neceifity of felling 
 E 4 her 
 
( 8o ) 
 
 her clothe? ; that (he was in an exceecJlng bad 
 ftate of health ; and that from her piety and re- 
 fignation, fhe was the admiration of all who 
 were admitted to converfe with her. He then 
 paid a vifit to Mifs Howe, who {hewed him fe* 
 veral of her dear friend's letters, by which it ap* 
 peared, that fhe was extremely ill ; and one in 
 particular, in which, in a very moving manner, 
 fhe defcribed her weaknefs, and her being obliged 
 to leave off feveral times, left (he fhould 
 faint. 
 
 Colonel Morden accordingly procured a gene- 
 ral meeting with all the family the next day j 
 renewed his felicitations in behalf of Clarifla ; 
 fet before them her penitence, her virtue, he» 
 bad ftate of health ; and read a letter full of con- 
 trition to her from Lovelace, with her magnani- 
 mous anfwer to it, as well as feveral pafTages h^ 
 had tranfcribcd from her letters to Mifs Howe, 
 In one of thefe particularly, fhe afked. What 
 could be done for her now, were her friends to 
 be ever fo favourable ; and wiflied for their fakes, 
 more than for her own, that they would ftill 
 relent. 
 
 At thefe words, Mrs. Harlowe wept and 
 clalped her hands, crying out, " O my child ! 
 my child !" — Every one elfe fcemed affected ex- 
 cept the brother of ClarifTa, who, addreffing 
 himfeif to his mother, cried, " Dear Madam, 
 be fo good as to think you have more children 
 than this ungrateful one." — The colonel was 
 at length permitted to go on with his extratSis, 
 and he again moved every one to pity the haplefs 
 Clariffa. Eat the unrelenting James Harlowe 
 went round to each, and again reminded hit 
 
 mother, 
 
( 8i ) 
 
 mother, that fhe had other children, and afked* 
 what there was in every thing the colonel had 
 read, but the refult of his fifter's talent at 
 . moving the paflibns. — Mrs. Harlowe propofed 
 . going to town to fee and comfort her poor daugh- 
 ter ; but this was alfo over-ruled by the brother^ 
 who rendered all endeavours to reftore the 
 wretched ClarifTa to favour ineffedual. 
 
 High words arofe between Mr. Morden and 
 him 5 and to fuch' a height v/ere their refent- 
 ments carried, every one taking the part of 
 young Harlowe, that the Colonel with uplifted 
 hands and eyes, cried out, " What hearts of 
 ilint am I related to ! O coufin Harlowe, arjg 
 you reiblved to have but one daughter ? Are you 
 Madam, to be taught by a fon, who has no 
 bowels, to forget that you are a mother ? I 
 will never open my lips to any of you more 
 upon this fubjciSl. I will inftantly make my 
 will, and in me (hall the dear creature have the 
 father, uncle, brother, fhe has loft." 
 
 With thefe words he hurried out of the room, 
 and rode away, notwithftancing all their endea- 
 vours to detain him. ClarifTa, while her coufia 
 was thus ineffedualiy exerting himfelf to recon- 
 cile her relations to her, not only familiarized 
 herfelf to the view of death, but longed for its 
 approach, and took a pleafure in preparing for it. 
 She even went in a chair to an undertaker's, of 
 whom {be befpoke a coffin, while, with the 
 greateft compofure, fhe gave directions about 
 iome emblematical devices which Piie had drawn 
 with her own hand, and chofe to have placed on 
 the lid, 
 
 E 5 Not 
 
( 82 ) 
 
 Not many days after flie had taken this ftep, 
 Mr. Belford, on paying a vifit to her, ftaited on 
 hearing a rumbling noife upon the ftairs. Clarifla 
 alfo ftarted, and a blufh overfpread her fweet face. 
 She defir^d him, with a look of concern, not to 
 be furprifed, and faid, " the blunderers were 
 " bringing: her Joinething two hours before the 
 " time J fhe had defired not to have it home till 
 *' iifter dark." Inftantly came in Mrs. Smith, 
 cryinfT, " O Madam ! what have you done?'*— 
 Mrs. Lovick entered with the fame exclamation, 
 and the two women, to Mr. Belford's utter 
 aftonifhment and difmay, told him it was a coffin. 
 
 With an intrepidity of a piece with the prepa- 
 ration, fhe directed the bearers to carry it into her 
 bed-chamber, and returned, faying, " Pray ex- 
 cufe me, Mr. Belford ; and do not you, Mrs. 
 Smith, and Airs. Lovick, be concerned. There 
 is nothing more in it than the unufualnefs of the 
 thing. Why may we not be as reafonably (hocked 
 at going to the church, wher" are the monum.enrs 
 of cvir anceftors, as to be moved at fuch a fight as 
 this V — They all remaining filtnt, the women 
 -with their aprons at their eyes : *' Why this 
 concern ?" faid (he, " if I am to be blam.ed for 
 any thing, it is for (hewing too much folicitude, 
 as it may be thought, for this earthly part. I 
 love to do every thing for myfelf that I can j and 
 the more, as I have no relation near me. And 
 what is the difFerence of a few days to you, whea 
 I am gratified, rather than difcompofed by it ?" 
 They were all Itill filent, the women in grief, and 
 Mr. IBelford in a manner ftunned ; who taking his 
 leave, ClariiTa defircd the v/omen to walk in and 
 look upon the coffin, which they did, and found 
 
 it 
 
( 83 ) 
 
 it covered with fine black cloth lined with white 
 fattin, and accompanied with every different ar- 
 ticle of the burial drefs. Mrs. Lovick could not 
 help blaming her, and wifhing the removal of 
 fuch an objed:. But to this Clariffi replied, that 
 to perfons in health, this fight might be fhocking, 
 and the preparation, and her unconcernednefs ia 
 it, might appear affetSted ; but for her, who had 
 fo much reafon not to love the world, fhe muit 
 fay (he dwelt on, and enjoyed the thoughts of 
 death. 
 
 She continued ferene and cal m, but was nov/ con- 
 tented with her clofct duties, and the vifits of the 
 parifti mir'fter, without any longer attempting to 
 go out. Though her weaknefs daily increafed^ 
 yet all her noble intc^lleds v/ere ftill lively and 
 Ilrong. She gave Mr. Belford, whom (be had 
 appointel her executor, a particular account of 
 every thing Hie would have done immediately after 
 her deceafe, with a compofure and chearfiilnefs 
 which equally furprifeci and afFsdled Mr. Belford, 
 Mrs. Smith, and Mrs. Lovick. Then looking 
 inllantly upon them, '' God blefs you all (faid 
 ihe) how kindly are you concerned for me ! 
 Who fays I am friendlefs ? who fays T am aban- 
 doned, and smong ftri^ngers ?"— Mr. Belford now 
 wrote to Colonel Morden, that if he expected tci 
 fee his "beloved coulrn alive, he muft: lofe no time ; 
 
 and the lame morning Dofior H wrote to her 
 
 father, intimating, thac whatever was done for 
 ClarilFa, vvhofe condu(Si, he obferved, was that 
 in which a dying hint might glory, mud be 
 fpeedily done, as h^ did not think (he could live 
 above a week, 
 
 E 6 Lovelace^ 
 
( 84 ) 
 
 Lovelace, mean while, to whom Mr. Bel ford 
 communicated every thing, was now ftung by 
 the reproaches of his own confcience. Siclc of 
 himfelf, and of the remembrance of his vile plots, 
 he gave a loofe to the unavailing di6l:ates of an- 
 guifh and defpair to Bclford ; but defired, that if 
 ibe really left this world, he would not bluntly 
 tell him fo, only, " that he would do well to take 
 a tour to Paris.'* — On the receipt of the above 
 letter from Mr. Belford, Colonel Morden, laying 
 afide all thoughts of procuring a reconciliation^ 
 rode poft to London. On his arrival at ClarifTa's 
 lodgings, Mrs. Smith told him that fhe was alive; 
 but (he feared, drawing on a- pace. He then de- 
 fired to fpeak with Mr. Belford, who was with 
 her; and on being informed by him that fhe was 
 fitting in a found ileep, his impatience would not 
 let him ftay till fhe was awaked, and he begged 
 that he might fee her now. The colonel was ac- 
 cordingly introduced by Mr. Belford, and he 
 found her drefied in white, with her left hand 
 round Mrs. Lovick's neck, who was fitting befide 
 her. 
 
 In this heart-moving attitude did ClarifTa appear 
 before her coufin, who gazed upon her with his 
 arms folded ; till at Jaft, on her flarting, he re- 
 tired to a fcreen which was drawn before her 
 coffin. Retiring thither, he drew out his hand- 
 kerchief, and feemcd unable to fpeak ; but in 
 calling his eye downward, he was ilruck with the 
 fhape of the coffin, and lifting up a purplifh co- 
 loured cloth, which was fpread over it, he flart- 
 cd back, crying, " Good God, what is here f" 
 He was beginning to blame Mrs. Smith for fuf- 
 f^jiing her to indulge her fad refle^^io^s with fuct^ 
 
 9Q 
 
( 85 ) 
 
 an obje£l, when Clarifla fetching a deep figb, 
 ftarted, and awaked. That he might not fur- 
 prife her, he foftly retired ; and after fending in 
 his name, and being immediately admitted, he 
 folded her in his arm?, dropping down on one 
 knee. The lady attempted to rife, but could 
 not, begged her dear coufm to excufe, and de- 
 clared that (he did not expect this favour now, 
 but that (he was glad of an opportunity to thanlc 
 him for all his goodnefs to her. " My beft be- 
 loved and deareft coufin," faid he, with eyes run- 
 ning over, " I never fhall forgive myfelf, that I 
 did not attend you fooner. Little did I think 
 you were fo ill ; nor do any of your friends be- 
 lieve it." — " If they did, faid Clarifla (interrupt- 
 ing him) I fhould have more companion from 
 them. I am fure I fhould." She then befought 
 him not to revenge her on Lovelace; and com- 
 plaining that (lie was very low, while at the fame 
 time (he teftified her forrow, that fhe could not 
 better deferve the honour of that vifit, (he funk 
 back upon her chair, and was filent. 
 
 The colonel, after paying her another vifit, 
 wrote to her uncle, Mr. John Hariowe, that the 
 family might fpare themfelves the trouble of de- 
 bating about a reconciliation, for that the dear 
 lady Vv'ould probably be no more before they could 
 refolve. A day or two after this, Mr. Bclford was 
 fent for. At his entrance, he found the colonel 
 kneeling on the fide of the bed ; on the other fide 
 fat the widow Lovick, with Mrs. Smith befide 
 her kneeling, all giving a loofe to the mod dif- 
 confolate forrow and anguiOi. The lady had been 
 filent a few mir.utes, and was thought fpeechlefs ; 
 ^ut when Mrs. Lovick, on Belford's approach,. 
 
 proncuocett 
 
( «6 ) 
 
 .prcnounced his name, " Mr. Bel ford (faid fhe) 
 with a faint inwstd voice,) now I blefs God, all 
 will foon be ove. ." Then flopping for two or 
 three minutes, with her looks earneftly fixed on 
 the colonel, " My dearefr coufin, (refumed fhe) 
 be comforted ? What is dying but the common 
 lot ? I blefs God I have had time for preparation. 
 I am all blefled hope — hope itfelf." — Here (he 
 looked what (he fpoke, a fweet fmile beaming over 
 her countenance. — " Once more, (continued fhe, 
 after a fhort paufe) commend me to my father 
 and mother, to my fiiter, to my brother, to my 
 uncles — and tell tl-cm that I blefs them with my 
 parting breath — even for their d'TpJeafuic i blefs 
 them.'' 
 
 Prefently, after turning her head toward Mr. 
 Belford, " Do you. Sir, tell your friend that I 
 forgive him ! Ano j pray God forgive \vm. Let 
 him know how hanp-ly; r.iid {'\:i-\ as rny owa I 
 wiTn to be his laJt i : ur." S.:e p..uied again, her 
 breath gr<^vv'ing fucrter, a^a a*'er a few minutes, 
 " My dc-arei-l; couJin, (fuid i] ■-) give me your 
 hand." And prtifing it tc he: ikying iips, " God 
 protect you, dear, dta; Sir, (adoeJihe^ — and 
 once moie receive my le-i aiid ^loll grateful 
 thanks." After another i.^ort filence, *' And 
 you, Mr. Belford, (reljm-d flu) prtHing hi* 
 hand, may Gou prefcrve ' ox. , zed niake vou fcn- 
 fible of all your errors — vc i fee -n me hov/ all 
 ends — n.Ayycu be" — and tlowr^ fun ;. l^er he^^d upon 
 her pillow, (he fainting away, /rnaginmg ihe 
 was then gone, they all gave way to a torrent of 
 tears. She foon, however, fhewed figns of re- 
 turning li»e , and when a little recovered, Mr, 
 Belford befou^ht her to complete in his favoir her 
 
 half. 
 
( 8? ) 
 
 half-pronouncecl bleffing). She accordingly wavej 
 her hands to him and her coufin ; aad bowing her 
 head to every one prcfent, " Blefs — (faid fhe, in 
 a faultering and inward accent)— blefs — blefs — 
 you all — and now — and now (holding up her 
 almoft lifelefs hands for the laft time) come—- 
 O come—blefTed Lord—Jtfus." 
 
 With thefe words, the laft but half pro- 
 nounced, fhe expired ; fuch a fmile, fuch a 
 charming ferenity, over-fpreading her face at the 
 inftant, as feemed to raanifeft her eternal hap- 
 pinefs already begun. While warm, though 
 pulfelefs, the colonel and Mr. Belford, each 
 prelled her hand with their lips, and then retired 
 to the next room. Colonel Morden fighed as if 
 his heart would burft. *' Forgive me, Sir ! O— 
 excufe me, Mr. Belford,'* ikid he, and haftily 
 pafling by him, v/ent down flairs, and left the 
 houfe, Mr. Bclford remaining fpcechlefs, and 
 without motion, x^t leni';th recoverir.g himfelf, 
 he wrote to Lovelace, intimating the melancholy 
 cataftrophe which had happened, by advifinghim 
 to take a tour to Pari?, or whc^rever eife his de- 
 ftiny might lead him. 
 
 The day after Ciarifla's departure, very tender 
 letters were brought to her from her Mer and her 
 brother, to comfort her, and aflare her of her 
 father and mother's bleffing, which (be had fo 
 earneftly longed for. Mr. Belford found (he had 
 written letters to be fent after her deceafe, to 
 every one of her family, to Mifs Howe, to Love- 
 lace, and to himfelf. He accordingly fent one of 
 his fervants to carry thofe addrefTed to her rela- 
 tions, and to Mifs Howe; as aifo a letter from 
 Colonel. Morden, to acquaint Mr. James Har- 
 
 lowe^ 
 
(88 ) 
 
 lowe with his fifter's death, and her define to be 
 interred near her grand- father. No focner were 
 they apprifed of the fatal news tlian the whole 
 houi'e was in confufion, the fervants running dif- 
 ferent ways, lamenting and wringing their hands, 
 and Mrs. Harlowe being feized with fits. Mifs 
 Howe was equally flioclced when fhe heard of 
 ■ the death of her beloved friend ; for never was 
 there a ilronger union diflblved by death than 
 that between thefe amiable young ladies. 
 
 The colonel arrived at Harlowe-Place fome 
 hours before the hearfe. Mr. Harlowe, as foon 
 as he faw him, faid, '' O coufin, couhn, of all 
 our family, you are the only one who have no- 
 thing to reproach yourfelf with." — The poor 
 mother, bowing her head to him in fpeechlefs 
 grief, fat with her handkerchief held to her eyes, 
 i— " Let us not," faid the colonel, approaching 
 the inconfolable mother, " give way to a grief, 
 which, however juft, can avail us nothing. 
 The dear creature tor whom we mourn is happy I 
 comfort yourfelf with that afiurance.". — " O 
 coufm, coufin !" cried the unhappy Mrs, Har- 
 lowe, preffing the colonel's band, " you know 
 rot what a child I have loft ! — and how lolt I— 
 That it is which makes the lofs infupportable." — 
 The eyes of all, in turn, were fet upon James 
 Harlowe, as the perfon who had kept up the ge- 
 neral refen ment againll fo fweet a creature; 
 while he was hardly able to bear his own remorfe, 
 nor Mifs Harlov.'e hei's. 
 
 At length the hearfe came to the outward- 
 gate ; and as Clarifla had been univerfally be- 
 Joveci, from her being the common patronefs of 
 all the honeft poor in ili^ neighbourhood, about 
 
 fifty 
 
( H ) 
 
 fifty of thefe, men, v/omen, and childrerij whsa 
 the coffin was taken out of the hearfe crowded 
 about, in tears, and hindered for a few moments 
 Its being carried in. At laft, fix maidens were 
 permitted to carry it by the fix handles into a 
 parlour adjoining to the hall, which Clarifla ufed 
 to call her parlour. When the father and mother, 
 the two uncles, her aunt Hervey, and her fifter 
 came in joining her brother and Mr. Morden, 
 the fcene was ftill more aff>-ding. Their forrow 
 was, no doubt, heightened by the remembrancf 
 of their cruelty; now efpecially, when they faw 
 before them the receptacle, which contained the 
 glory of their family, who fo lately was driven 
 thence by their indifcreet violence. The wretched 
 mother but juft caft her eye on the coffin, and 
 then fnatched it away. — '' O my child ! my 
 child !" cried fhe — " thou pride of my hope I 
 Why was I not permitted to fpeak pardon and 
 peace to thee ! O forgive thy cruel mother !"— • 
 As for the father, his grief was too deep for ut-» 
 terance, till he faw his Ton coming in ; and then, 
 fetching a deep groan, " Never," faid he, " was 
 forrow like my forrow ! O fon ! O fon 1" ex* 
 claimed he. 
 
 The next morning Mifs Howe came for tho 
 laft time to fee her beloved friend. The moment 
 fhe faw the coffin fhe withdrew her hand from 
 Colonel Mordents (who had conduced her into 
 the parlour) and with impatience pufhed afide 
 the lid, and in a wild air clafped her uplifted 
 hands together, now looking upon the corpfe, 
 Kow up to heaven. At length breaking filence, 
 •' O Sir !" faid (be, " fee you not here the 
 glory of JierTex, thus by the mofl villainous of - 
 
 youFfi 
 
( 90 ) 
 
 yours laic^ low ! — O my blefled friend ! TVfjr 
 fweet conu'cnion ! My lovely moniir^fs!" — kif- 
 fing her lips ac every tender invocation — *' And 
 is ihis all T Is it all of my Clarifla's (lory ! — O 
 for a tear lo e.ife my full fwollen h(;art, that is 
 juft bui't : g ' — But one more kifs, my angel, 
 my frici, \ my ever to be regretted, loft com- 
 panion ! — Adieu, my deareft Ciarifla ! — Thou 
 art h^<ppy ! — And that thou art io is my comfort." 
 —Then again kiffing her, (he quitted the room 
 with precipitation, lufhed into her chariot, and 
 giving way to a frefh burft of tears, was drivea 
 away.'* 
 
 The afflided parents made one other effort to 
 fee ihe remains of their beloved ClarifTa; but 
 Mrs. Harlowe being ready to fwoon away at the 
 very fight of the coffin, they were condu6led out 
 of the room, and the lid was again fcrewed 
 down. 
 
 The folemnifation of the lad office was per- 
 formed with great decency ; numbers of people 
 of all conditions attended the corpfe ; and a moft 
 pathetic funeral difcourfe was pronounced by the 
 minifter, who in repeating her praifes, repeatedly 
 wiped his eyes, while every one piefent ftill more 
 often wiped theirs. 
 
 Clarirfa had a fet of poor people, chofen for 
 their remarkable honefty, and their ineffedual 
 induftry. — As thefe voluntarily paid their lait 
 attendance on their common benefailrefs, ming- 
 ling in the church as they could croud near the 
 ifle where the corpfe was, fo it was the lefs to be 
 wondered that the encomiums of the preacher 
 met with fuch general and grateful teftimonies 
 of approbation. 
 
 Such 
 
( 91 ) 
 
 Such was the fate of the virtuous, the piou's, 
 the amiable, and the defervedly adored Clariffa 
 Harlowe ; and fuch were the heart- felt lamenta- 
 tions poured forth, as a tributary facrifice to her 
 memory. The vile and abandoned Sinclair, 
 mean while, who had inftigated that infatuated 
 villain, Lovelace, to heap crime upon crime, 
 who had hardened his heart a^ainft remorfe, and 
 who had even afiTifted him by horrid potions in 
 the violation of her honour, v/as reduced to a 
 -condition of the mod deplorable mifery and 
 wretchednefs. 
 
 This moft deteflable of women, having broken 
 her leg in a fit of intoxication, a vice to which 
 file was particularly addicSled, a mortification en- 
 fued. All the horrors of defpair furrounded her 
 at the approach of death, and the confequent je- 
 membrance of her paft guilty life ; and after lin- 
 gering for fome days in all the poignant agonies 
 of bodily pain, and in all the diliratting anguifh 
 of mental impatience, raving, and giving a vent 
 to the moft dreadful execrations, fhe breathed 
 her laft. 
 
 Let us now return to Lovelace, the abandoned, 
 the profligate Lovelace, who, by his deteflable 
 machinations, had been the author of fuch com- 
 plicated diftrefles both to himfelf and others. On 
 receiving the fatal note from Mr. Bclford (advi- 
 fing him to take a tour to Paris, and thereby in- 
 timating, as had been agreed upon, the death of 
 his beloved Clariflaj this unhappy man behaved 
 with all the marks of horror, diftradion, and 
 remorfe. By the agitation of his mind he was 
 a6lually deprived of his fenfes, and under a ne- 
 ceffity of being confined to his room. No ideas 
 
 had 
 
( 92 ) 
 
 ^.ad he now but of dark and confufed mifery ; all 
 within was confcience and horror: thoughts of 
 hangings drowning, (hooting ; then rage, vio- 
 lence, mifchief, and dcfpair, by turns I. ok place 
 in his diftempered foul. Nor was he n^o.e happy 
 in his lucid intervals. Thefe gave him to refie<Sk 
 what he had been the hour before, what he was 
 likely to be the next, and perhaps for life j the 
 iport of enemies, the laughter of fools. 
 
 At length, however, recovering the ufe of his 
 reafon, he fought, but vainly fuught, to blunt 
 the ftings of confcience, by an afFeiled gaiety, 
 and by ftenes of mirth, and of rior. That he 
 might recover his health, he was ftrongly per- 
 fuaded to go abroad ; and Mr. Beiford, who ftill 
 loved him, and had his happinefs particularly at 
 heart, haftened his departure, from an apprehen- 
 sion that Colonel Morden, notwithftandmg th« 
 dying injunctions of his coufni to the contrary, 
 might call him to account for the injuries his 
 family had fuflained from him. Much about 
 the fame time, the colonel fet out for Italy ; 
 in confequence of which, Jofeph Leman, 
 who had all along been a tool to the art- 
 ful villainies of Lovelace, wroie a letter to 
 him, intimating that Mr. Morden was deter- 
 mined to have his life. On tliis information, 
 Lovelace difpatched a letter to Florence, where 
 the worthy coufin of ClariiTa then was, ac- 
 quainting him of what he had heard, and where 
 he was to be found. — Colonel Morden, who had 
 before no intention of purfuing him, without 
 hefitation obeyed the fummons, thinking his 
 honour now concerned. Accordingly they met, 
 they fought ; and Lovelace, who, relying upon 
 kis fupefior (kill as si fwordfman, imagined him- 
 
 fcif 
 
( 93 ) 
 
 Tel-f fure of vi^lory, received two wounds from 
 the Colonel, of which he expired the next day, 
 an expiatory facrifice to the manes of Clarifla. 
 
 It now remains to fpeak a few words of the 
 other charaders. After the much lamented death 
 of their excellent daughter, Mrs. Harlowe lived 
 but about two years and a half, and Mr. Har- 
 lowe about three years. In their laft hours, the 
 chief confolation they experienced was, that they 
 ihould now be reftored to their blefled daughter, 
 as, from the time that they were acquainted with 
 her happy departure, they had conftantly called 
 her. They both, however, furvived the nup- 
 tials of their fon James, and of their daughter 
 Arabella ; though not to receive joy from the 
 marriage of either. 
 
 The former, who married againft the advice 
 of his father, mother, and uncles, leads a de- 
 plorable life of mifery, and of remorfe. All his 
 misfortunes, when he unbofoms himfelf to the 
 few friends he has remaining, he imputes to the 
 vile and cruel manner in which he treated his 
 angelic iifter. His punilhment he acknowledges 
 to be julc, yet to that punifhment he has neither 
 the virtue, the temper, nor the refolution pati- 
 ently to fubmit. His bittereft enemy is Ara- 
 bella, his once loving and beloved fifter; who 
 being herfelf united in wedlock to a worthlefs 
 libertine, pafles her days amidft all the pangs of 
 corroding jealoufy, and of unavailing difcon- 
 tent. 
 
 , Mifs Howe at length became the wife of Mr^ 
 Hickman, a man of ftridt virtue, and of the 
 iiioft amiable manners, who has no paft errors 
 to brggd upon, aiid to damp his fcJicity, and 
 
 whofe 
 
THE FORTUNATE 
 
 COUNTRY MAID. 
 
 IT is fo far from being dangerous, that It is 
 in fome fort necefTary, for youn^ perfons to 
 be acquainted with the paffion of love, that 
 they may be able to fhut their ears againfl it 
 when it is criminal, and know how to conducl 
 themfelves in it when innocent and honour- 
 able. — On this principle the following truly di- 
 verting and ufeful hiftory v/as originally writ- 
 ten ; and on this principle it is now prefentcd 
 to the public. 
 
 It is with tne greateft relu£l:ance Imaginable 
 I own my extratSlion ; perhaps by reafon of that 
 fuperior rank I now enjoy. 
 
 Famed and envied as I now am in the polite 
 world, as .being the wife of the Marquis of 
 
 L~ V , I can hardly perfuade myfelf 
 
 that originally I am neither better nor worfe than 
 Jane, the daughter of John B , a wood- 
 cutter in the parifh of Fontainebleau, and for- 
 merly gardener to the Countefs of N ^ v/hofe 
 
 waiting-maid he married. 
 
 B I was 
 
[ 2 ] 
 
 I was the firft fruit of thefr love, and had 
 
 the honour of the Marquis of L V , 
 
 and the Countefs of N , for my god -father 
 
 and god-mother ; in the neighbourhood of the 
 caftlc belonging to which latter, ftands the ham- 
 let in which I firft drew breath. One day, when 
 turned of thirteen, having been fent to thecaftle 
 with cream for her Ladyfhip, fhe prefented me 
 as her god-daughter to a fine gentleman, drefTed 
 moft fuperbly ; who, ftruck with the modefty 
 of my deportment, and informed of my dutiful 
 behaviour to my parents, heaped upon me en- 
 comiums, which, fenfible of my own unwor- 
 thinefs, I, from that moment, redoubled my 
 affiduities to deferve. Returning, a fhort time 
 after, from the foreft, whither I had carried fome 
 refrefhment to my father, I obferved a company 
 of horfemen ride paft me, among whom I un- 
 derftood was the King. 
 
 Eager to fee a perfonage whom fancy pictured 
 to me as more than mortal, I ran up haftily, 
 crying aloud to one of his attendants, " Do, 
 Sir, fhew me the Kin^ — I never faw him in my 
 life!" 
 
 Tranfported with the unafFecSled fimpllcity of 
 the queftion, the ftranger feized my hand, and 
 pointed him out to me. 
 
 '.' Where do you live, my pretty .dear ?" 
 died he. 
 
 «.' In yonder village, your honour.*' 
 
 *' Will you give me leave to fee you ?" 
 
 And before 1 could fpeak, anotherof the gen- 
 tlemen galloped back to us. 
 
 " The 
 
[ 3 ] 
 
 *' The King calls for you, Marquis," faid 
 he, «^ a-nd mull know what this fweet girl has 
 been enquiring about." 
 
 With thefe words he prepared to alight, 
 which fo frightened me that 1 took to my heel?, 
 not once looking back till I had got within the 
 threfhold of our cottage. 
 
 I was too full of the civilities I had received, 
 for my mother not to perceive that fomething 
 extraordinary had happened. She would be ao- 
 quainted with it, and I very readily told the 
 whole of the adventure. 
 
 When I had done, " I am willing," faid fhe, 
 '* to excufe your curiofity for the fake of him 
 who occafioned it; another time, be more upon 
 your guard. Not that you were to blame in ad- 
 drefling yourfelf to the nobleman you fpeak of, 
 as it was perhaps the only means you had of 
 finding out the King; but for the future, look 
 that you never fufFer yourfelf to be dazzled 
 with an empty fhow, and the difcourfe of men-. 
 As to this nobleman in particular, you never 
 name him but with an unufual emotion. Ah ! 
 Jane, Jane, all is not right 1 You have given 
 your eyes too much liberty ; whereas in regard 
 ©f men you ought not to give any. I'heir 
 praifes are juftly to be fufpe6led, as they always 
 tend to promote their defigns." 
 
 Great caution fhould be ufed in the education 
 of youth, left, in giving inftru6lions, they be 
 taught thofe things to which they cannot be too 
 great ftrangers, as it happened in this very cafe. 
 i had entirely forgot that the compliments pafled 
 upon me by the courtiers, had created the lead 
 fatisfadtion- in my breaft; but my mother's ad- 
 B 2 monitions 
 
[ 4 ] 
 
 monitions renewed thofe bewitching ideas, and 
 a new pleafure arofe on calling them to mind. 
 All this was entirely owing to what my mother 
 had fald ; and from that moment, I refolved to 
 be mere upon the referve with her. 
 
 I fell into a great perplexity of mind ; my 
 vfual amufements became infipid, and nothing 
 fan in my head, but the gay appearance of the 
 court. Our clownifli ncig-hbours, when olaced 
 in oppofition, created a perfecSi: loathing, though 
 hitherto they had been agreeable enough; parti- 
 cularly a wood-monger's fon, one Colin, who 
 was remarkably neater, and far more polite, than 
 s ufual with thofe of his rank, and who had al- 
 ready made fome advances towards gaining my 
 afFeiSlions. No fooner, however, had I (cen 
 the Marquis, than farewel Colin. I obferved this 
 alteration in myfelf^ but my thoughts were, 
 then in too great a hurry to perceive the real 
 motive, which neverthelefs did not remain long 
 undifcovered. 
 
 Three days were now pafled fmce the adven- 
 ture which had raifed this commotion in my 
 breaft. The Marquis's expreffions were never 
 out of my mind. Young as I was, and far from 
 knowing the danger of fuch refle£lions, I che- 
 rifhtd them with a fccret fatrsfadion ; I even 
 repeated tomyfelf his very words; upon the leaft 
 noife, I concluded he was coming; and then a 
 childifli blufh and fluttering of the heart were 
 fure to follow to that degree, that oftentimes I 
 was fcarce myfelf. 
 
 In fine, four days were elapfed fince I had 
 met the Marquis, when, being at church, I 
 heard fome horfcs flop at the door. Looking 
 
 back 
 
C 5 ] 
 
 back on a fudden, whom (hould I fee but the 
 Marquis himfelf, entering in fuch a graceful 
 manner as quite charmed me, and attracted the 
 attention of every one prefent to him. Our 
 eyes foon met, for he prefently difcovered me, 
 though in the midft of the crowd, and in one 
 look, as I fancied, repeated all the fine things he 
 had laid to me in the forefir. 
 
 Service being over, he whifpered to one of his 
 attendants ; whoj as we returned home chatter- 
 ing together, infmuated himfelf into the com- 
 pany of the girls who were with me, and flip- 
 ped a letter intO' my hand. I trembled with 
 confufionj as I guefled it was from the Mar- 
 quis ; but was cruelly difappointed, on break- 
 ing it open j for though my mother had taught 
 me to read print, yet to-written characters I was 
 as yet an utter ftranger. There was but one ex- 
 pedient r could devife, the very thought of 
 which fet me a laughing; it v/as nothing lefs 
 than to employ my fimple admirer Colin to read 
 the contents of it to me. In this fcheme I fuc- 
 ceedied, telling him a plaufible llory to prevent 
 his fufpicions. He even chearfully undertook 
 to write an anfwer for me, which I dictated, 
 intimating to the Marquis, among other things, 
 the impropriety of his entertaining a pailion for 
 a girl of my ftation, and my fears- that he 
 meant to deceive me. 
 
 Hardly was the letter finiflied when it was 
 time to return to church ; whither I was follow- 
 ed by the Marquis's gentleman, to whom I fe- 
 cretly conveyed it. Though my vanity was 
 not a little gratified in being taken notice of by 
 a perfon of rank fo diftinguiihed, and of quali- 
 B 3 ties 
 
[ 6 ] 
 
 ties fo amiable, as the Marquis, yet was I no 
 free from apprehenfion ; and the melancholy fate 
 of Charlotte, a young woman in the neigh- 
 bourhood, who had been in a fimilar fituation, 
 and whofe ftory had jufl- come to light, deter- 
 mined me to confider all the fine offers I had re- 
 ceived, as fo many baits to deftroy me» 
 
 In vain did my inclinations, prejudiced as 
 they were, fide with the Marquis, and fet him 
 off" in the moft favourable light. My virtue in- 
 terpofcd ; I determined never to fwerve from its. 
 di(^tes, and as often as my heart fhould give 
 occafion, to call it to my affiftance. From 
 that mom-ent I have conftantly adhered to this 
 Tnaxim, and have juft reafon to look upon it as 
 the foundation of all my good fortune. Under 
 the diredion of fo good a guide, there is na 
 danger of going affray. 
 
 With reflections of this nature was I en- 
 grofled the day following, when the Marquis^ 
 together with the Countefs to whom he was up- 
 on a vifit, and feveral other perfons of quality,, 
 entered our cottage. He had already acquainted 
 them with my behaviour when I met the King, 
 upon the road, and that he was charged by his 
 Majefty to prefent me with a purfe of louisd'ors ; 
 "but, that this inftance of royal favour was owing 
 to his regard for me, which had induced him to 
 intercede for it, he kept a profound fecret. 
 
 It w;s the father of this young- nobleman^ 
 who hai ftood with the Countefs at my chriften^ 
 ing ; a circumftance of which, he afterwards 
 made a very convenient handle, while he heaped 
 upon me the mofl exalted proofs of his tender. 
 a£fe(5tion«. 
 
 The 
 
f 7 ] 
 
 The company loaded me with pralfes ; after 
 which the Marquis addrefled me with as mucb 
 refpedl as if I had been a Dutchefs, and put a 
 puife of thirty louisd'ors into my hand; afluring 
 me that I owed it entirely to the fame of my 
 virtues, and to the fmgular fatisfa<Slion I had 
 exprefled at the fight of his Majefty's perfon, an 
 account of w)iich had been given him -, and that 
 he was exceedingly happy in being employed ort 
 that commiifion, lince he underftood that I was 
 a god-child of his father. 
 
 I made him a curtefy, and acknowledged the 
 favour ; but in a voice fo low that it was almoft 
 impofiible to know what I faid,^ nor indeed did' 
 I well know it myfelf. 
 
 " Come, Jenny," cried the Countefs, <« are 
 you willing to leave your father and mother, 
 and to go home with me ? If yor. are,, you may 
 come to the caftie this very evening : I will un- 
 dertake the charge of you, and endeavour to 
 make you deferve the notice his Majefly has 
 been pleafed to honour you with." 
 
 My father and mother were tranfported at her 
 Ladyfliip's goodnefs ; and having with tears ia 
 my eyes taken my leave of them, and of my 
 brother and fifter (the whole of our family) I 
 followed the company ; not, however, without 
 giving the purfe dutifully to my mother, and re- 
 ceiving from her ftrong injundiions to be always 
 good, and never to forget that no true happinefs 
 could be expedted without it. 
 
 The Countefs was no fooner in her apart- 
 ment than fhe fent for Mademoifelle de Pare, 
 and commiued me to her care 
 
 My 
 
C 8 ] 
 
 My governefs was an antiquated piece of 
 avarice and formality, who had formerly been 
 her waiting-maid, but whofe only employment 
 at prefent was, to govern her ladyfhip and the 
 reft of the family. Mademoifelle d'Elbieux, 
 my patronefs's daughter, was rather older than 
 myfelf, almoft deftitute of every perfonal ad- 
 vantage, in appearance good-natured, but in 
 reality envious and fuUen, and my enemy from 
 the moment of my arrival at the caftle. The 
 Chevalier, her brother, on the other hand, 
 took a particular fancy to me. He was out- 
 wardly obliging like his fifter, and like her in- 
 wardly paifionate and haughty. The Marquis^ 
 ftaid fome time with us ; but never till the very 
 day of his departure could he obtain an oppor- 
 tunity to fpeak with me, attended as I con- 
 ftantly v/as by my governefs, or bufied in the 
 Countefs's bed-chamber, in learning to em- 
 broider. 
 
 We were together when Mademoifelle 6t 
 Pare furprifed us ; and the Marquis having de- 
 fired her to pay particular attention to me, and 
 afTured her that fhe fhould find her account in^ 
 it, fhe behaved to me ever after with the great- 
 eft tendernefs.. After the Marquis left ug, the 
 Chevalier applied himfelf very clofely to me. 
 The Countefs perceived that he did, and repre- 
 manded him accordingly ; but this, though it 
 rendered him more circumfpe<5t, feemed to give, 
 new life to his bafe defigns. As for his filter,. 
 by doing every thing in my power that might 
 make me acceptable to her, ihe condefcended to 
 bear with, me, but with an air infupportably 
 haughty.. 
 
 My 
 
t 9 ] 
 
 My fituation was fo diflreffing, that I fell 
 away, and loft both my complexion and ilrength. 
 My reft heretofore was undifturbed, but now 
 I feldom enjoyed fo great a blefTing. I confi- 
 dered my prefent fituation in all its circum- 
 ftances ; the fource of thefe I was willing to 
 hide from myfelf ; and inftead of blaming the 
 impetuoftty of my afFed:ions, I attributed what 
 I fuftered to my abfence from my mother. Soon, 
 however, was I convinced of my error. 
 
 The Countefs judged as ill in the affair as 
 myfelf J and imagining the fight of my parents 
 would be of fervice to me in the condition to 
 which fhe faw me reduced fhe fent for them. 
 Though thereby I received fome relief, yet I 
 received much more from the arrival of Dubois, 
 the Marquis's valet. He gave me an account 
 of his mafter, and how much he was concern- 
 ed at my abfence. There was no occafion for 
 explaining my fentlments to him ; my coun- 
 tenance difcovered more than my words could 
 expcpfs. 
 
 From the time the Marquis left the caftle I 
 had applied myfelf to learn to write ; a valet 
 belonging to the Chevalier, who wrote a fine 
 hand, difcovering a particular fondnefs in teach- 
 ing me. I had juft begun to join the letters ; 
 and, in order to give the Marquis a proof of the 
 attention I paid to the earneft intreaties he had 
 made that I would learn to write, I took a 
 childifh pleafure in fcrawling over a whole page. 
 This with great charge I gave to Dubois; who 
 made very ftriit enquiries whether the Cheva- 
 lier made love to me, or not. I fuppofe it was 
 part of his inftru6tions. The anfv^er I made 
 
 was. 
 
[ 10 ] 
 was, that at firft he did ; but his mother, being 
 apprized of it, had taken Aich fteps, that now 
 he dared not (o much as <f'j>en his mouth to me 
 on that fubjecSl. 
 
 The day after Dubois's return to the Marquis 
 happened to be Sunday. I had formed a friend- 
 ship with my governefs's niece Catherine j a 
 young woman, who, befides an excellent tem- 
 per, was blefled with an admirable underftand- 
 ing, and that improved by a genteel education; 
 to whom alfo I am under great obligations, as 
 ihe was the firil who began to polifh the coarfe 
 breeding I had contracted at home. In the 
 afternoon, after church, we took a walk toge- 
 ther; and the converfation happening to turn 
 on my noble benefatftrefs, and the Count her 
 hufband, {he informed me that they had been 
 for fome years on fuch bad terms as rarely to 
 fee each other ; that this, notwithftanding her 
 ftrift honour, owed its fource to the Countefs*s 
 unbounded pafTion for coquetry, as did her 
 prefent fprightlinefs and good humour to the 
 
 tender afliduities of the Marquis of L V , 
 
 of which he had for fome time, been particu- 
 larly lavifh. 
 
 The laft word was hardly pronounced when 
 I funk down in a fwoon ; and Catherine, un- 
 fufpicious of the real caufe of this accident, as 
 my health had, of late, been fo indifferent, hav- 
 ing at length brought me to myfelf, led me back 
 to the caftle, and put me to bed. 
 
 Then was I relieved by a flood of tears; then 
 did I exclaim, ^' Ah ! wretch that I am ! — 
 Ah ! barbarous man ! why fhould ygu thus de- 
 ceive me ? — why, taking advantage of my cre- 
 dulity. 
 
[ " ] 
 
 dulity, profcfs to me a palfion to which your 
 heart is a ftranger ?'* 
 
 The whole adventure of Charlotte prefented 
 itfelf to my difturfbed imagination, till, wea- 
 ried out with tears and vexation, I fell into a 
 profound fleep, from which I awaked in the 
 morning tolerably com pofed. 
 
 Little thinking to find the Marquis there, I 
 went into the Countefs's apartment, though 
 not till I had been made to undergo an odious 
 interview with the Chevalier in my way thither. 
 At fight of the latter, I gave a ftart of horror ; 
 butfhame prevented me from betraying myfelf 
 any farther. He fpoke to me with great ten- 
 dernefs, and would have taken hold of my hand 
 if indignation had not made me withdraw it. I 
 could no longer conceal my agitation ; and the 
 Countefs having felt my pulfe, concluded that 
 I was in a fever, and gave orders to fend for a 
 phyfician. The Marquis's eyes were fixed upon 
 me, vainly endeavouring to trace the caufe of 
 my diforder, which increafed to fuch a pitch, 
 after I had retired to my chamber, and been 
 put to bed, that the next morning I w§is feized 
 with a delirium. 
 
 Alarmed at this intelligence, the Marquis 
 flew to my apartment, revealed his love for me 
 to my governefs and her niece, and won their 
 hearts by his generofity. Mademoifelle de Pare 
 prevailed with him to difgujfe his grief, and, for 
 fear of a difcovery, to leave the caftle the next 
 day. 
 
 Thanks to a good conftitution, and to the ac- 
 counts which my attendants gave me of what 
 the Marquis had faid and done during my ftate 
 
 of 
 
[ 12 ] 
 
 of Infenfibility, I found myfelf out of danger 
 within a fortnight. No longer could I conceal 
 from them the caufe of my illnefs j and they 
 both, while at the fame time they condemned 
 me for it, convinced me that my jcaloufy of 
 the Countefs was ungrounded ; that the Mar- 
 quis's fuppofed paflion for her was merely a pre- 
 text to fee me ; and that he only waited for a 
 favourable opportunity to prove to me that his 
 intentions were ftriclly honourable. 
 
 Every thing confpired to reftore me to health 
 and happinefs. My lover was our conftant 
 theme, and not a day elapfed that I did not 
 hear from him. if I had aught to diftrefs me, 
 it was occafioned by the affiduity of the Cheva- 
 lier d'Elbieux ; of whom I detcfted the very 
 fight, from the dread that he would at one time 
 or other ofrer violence to me; though, ftill pro- 
 tected as I was by his mother, I was afraid to 
 affront him. Nor was it long before my terrors 
 were confirmed. 
 
 When I had in a good meafure regained my 
 ftrength, my governefs and her niece propofed 
 a walk to me, telling me that the air would be 
 of fervice to me ; though their real motive for 
 it, as I learned from Catherine, was, that I 
 might have an interview with the Marquis, who 
 had made an appointment to meet us. 
 
 I was pleafed with thij thought, being fear- 
 lefs of danger in the company of a confident fo 
 experienced as Mademoifelle de Pare. After a 
 faunter of half an hour, we feated ourfelves in a 
 meadow hard by a wood. There had we not been 
 many minutes, when we heard a whiftle, pre- 
 lently after another ; and turning about, I 
 2 fcream- 
 
r 13 1 
 
 (creamed out at the fight of four men dlfgulfed 
 -in mafks, who inftantly rufhed upon us, flop- 
 ped our mouths with handkerchiefs, and carry- 
 ing JViademoifelle de Pare and her niece to a by- 
 place, furrounded with a thick coppice, they 
 left the poor creatures tied to two trees. 
 
 As for myfelf, I was carried farther off; wheil 
 three of the men retired, leaving me alone with 
 the fourth ; who throwing off his mafk, difco- 
 vered himfelf to be the Chevalier d'Elbieux. 
 
 Imagine my furprife. " Since none but vio- 
 lent methods,'' faid he, " will prevail with 
 you, ic is fitting you fhould be treated accord- 
 ing to your tafte." He had no fooner done 
 fpeaking than he began to ufe force, and would 
 have facrificed me to his brutality, if Heaven, 
 in mercy to my innocence, had not fent mc 
 relief. 
 
 At the found of a horfe galloping toward usr^ 
 the villain flarted from me, and flew to his 
 piflols. As they had negle£led to tie me, and 
 in my flruggle the handkerchief hac? fallen ofF 
 my face, 1 made my efcape with all the fpeed of 
 which I was capable ; and in the inflant, as it 
 were, the report of piflols echoed to me from 
 every part of the foreft. 
 
 Overcome with fear, and enfeebled by fa- 
 tigue, I fwooned away at the foot of a tree, 
 and recovered not till the night was far ad- 
 vanced. I wandered I knew not whither ; and 
 at length the ground under me giving way, I 
 found myfelf at the bottom of a pit, unhurt, as 
 it happened, and in a fitting poflure. 
 
 Soft fleep foon weighed down my watery 
 
 evQ-lids, and wrapped me in its balmy fweets 
 
 C till 
 
t u 3 
 
 fill the dawn of day, when I ftarted up at tlie 
 fight of a wolf by my fide, which was not a 
 little magnified by my fear. I concluded my 
 I aft hour was come, and prayed with the great- 
 eft fervency. As the creature walked backward 
 and forward, at every turn I imagined he was 
 going to devour me. After feeming to liften 
 to fome noife, he changed his place, and 
 crept hailily under my gown. I was fo terri- 
 fied, that I was only able to lift my eyes toward 
 Heaven ; and what fhould I fee but two men 
 juft going to fire a gun into the pit. T'Jiis new 
 apparition made me find my tongue again ; and 
 fcreaming out for help, I at length obtained my 
 liberty. But how great was my aftonifhment, 
 ivhen, eyeing my deliverers, I found one of 
 them to be Colin, my old admirer, and faithful 
 lover ? 
 
 <« Is that you, Colin ?" — <*^ Is that you Jen* 
 ny ?" exclaimed we both in a breath. 
 
 In anfwer to his enquiries, I told him in a 
 vague, amant manner, that in flying from fome 
 ruffians, I had loft myfelf in the wood, and that 
 in endeavouring to find my way back to the 
 caftle, the trap having given way under me, 
 I had fallen into the pit. 
 
 « But, dear Colin," cried I, with great 
 eagernefs, '^' have you heard .any reports about 
 me ?^' 
 
 *' Reports ! aye, that I have^'* replied he. 
 *^ People are in fcarch of you on all fides : the 
 Chevalier is faid to have carried you oft', which 
 is thought the more probable as he has not 
 been fcen fince yefterday, that he engaged and 
 wounded the Marquis.— Ah 1 naughty girl, you 
 
 would 
 
f 15 I 
 
 woufd have done well if you had remembered 
 the fate of Charlotte ; for let me tell you, all 
 the neighbourhood blame you, and your god-* 
 mother has declared that fhe will have nothinor 
 more to do with you." 
 
 This intelligence diftrjuEted mej and as I 
 valued my reputation, I determined to get rid, 
 if poffible, of Colin, and to fhelter myfelf ir* 
 Paris as a fervant, rather than return home un- 
 der the fufpicion of guilt, or be any longer ex* 
 pofed to the bafe attempts of the Chevalier. 
 
 In the interim, a man on horfe-back galloped 
 up to us, whom, to my great joy, 1 found to 
 be Dubois, the IVTarquis's valet. Already had 
 he laid hold of Colin, and over-powered him, 
 when his companion, regardlefs of me, flew to 
 his affiftance, and ^pft me at libt^rty to effe6t 
 miy elcape ; which I did, as faft as my ftrength 
 would carry me,, through the tracklefs windings 
 of the foreft. 
 
 On my arrival at Valvins, I took a place in 
 the Paris waggon ; in which I was no fooner 
 feated than, giving a loofe to refle6lion, I re- 
 pented of the ftep 1 had taken, and was on the 
 point of defiring the waggoner to fet me down, 
 when I perceived the Chevalier and another 
 young gentleman ride up to us at full fpeed. 
 
 I trembled every joint, and hid myfelf; for 
 I fhrewdly gueffed, by their geftures, that they 
 knew where I was, and that the waggoner was 
 in the fecret. But Heaven, which never for- 
 iakes the innocent, infpired me with a contri- 
 vance to baffle their wicked purpofe. Happily 
 there hung over the road a number of large 
 koughs.. One of thefe I laid hold of, and the 
 C z wa^- 
 
t i6 ] 
 
 waggon driving from under me, I climbed, un- 
 perceived, into a tall thick tree, fully refolved 
 to conceal myfelf till I was fure of not falling 
 into their ruinous clutches a fccond time. 
 
 Night drew on apace ; the fun was already 
 fet ; and I fuftcred very much from continuing 
 fo long in fuch an uneafy poflure. My ftrength 
 as well as patience was quite exhaufted, when 
 there pafled by a chaife, with a lady and a girl 
 111 it, efcorted by tv/o horfemen. The moment 
 I faw them, I refolved to quit the tree, and 
 take that opportunity of efcaping the danger 
 which hung over me ; but in putting my defigu 
 into execution, I had the ill fortune to hook 
 the upper part of my gown in the tree, and 
 3'=>^tn2f niy footing at the fame time, was left 
 dangling in the air. 
 
 The fear of falling made me cry out, which 
 brought the two horfemen attending the chaife 
 to my aiTiftance ; who prefently difengaged and 
 took me down. Without waiting to make any 
 reply to their queftions of furprife and aftonilh- 
 ment at finding me expofed to fuch danger, I ran 
 with all my force to the chaife, which my out- 
 cries had flopped. 
 
 *' Save me. Madam, for God's fake," I 
 cried ; *' a villain offers me violence !'* 
 
 The lady looked at me very earneflly, while 
 I was fpeaking, and had the good-nature to 
 take me in. When I was feated, fhe enquired 
 who I was, and the occafion of" my fears. After 
 repeating all the particulars with great fince- 
 rity, my inclination to the Marquis excepted, 
 «' This," cried fhe, " is wickednefs with a 
 vengeance, and plainly fhews how dangerous is 
 
 the 
 
r ly J 
 
 the company of men deftitute of honour, \vhere 
 they take a fancy. Mothers ought never to 
 leave their daughters to themfelves ; nor fliould 
 young girls, who value their characSter, ever 
 take the leaftftep without their mother's advice. 
 However, child, you have nothing to fear from 
 the Chevalier : the Countefs I am well ac- 
 quainted with, and when 1 write to her on this 
 fubjedl, will reprimand her fon very feverely." 
 
 She had fcarce done fpeaking, when I per- 
 ceived the Chevalier riding by the chaife-fide, 
 and looking in very earneftly. 
 
 ** Ah ! Madam," faid I, in a low voice, 
 ** there he is, there he is !" — ** Be not frighten- 
 ed," replied ihe — '« Fll warrant his ftay will be 
 butfhort." 
 
 And as fhe fpoke, fo it happened. No foon- 
 er did the Chevalier perceive who it was that 
 had taken me under her protection, than, giving 
 the reins and fpurs to his horfe, he rode away. 
 
 I blefTed God very heartily for this happy 
 meeting. My prote(Slrefs appeared to be about 
 forty, and was ftill handfome ; but the fweetnefs 
 of her temper can never be fufficiently admired, 
 I ftrove, by all the little fervices I could think 
 of on the road, to endear myfelf to her : nor 
 was my labour thrown away. By the time we 
 reached Paris, I had gained not a little on her 
 afFedlions, and file gave me the welcome af- 
 furance of a fandluary with her till fhe fhould 
 h?ar from the Countefs. 
 
 Monfieurde G , herhufband, was a Re- 
 ceiver in the Exchequer, on the wrong fide 
 of fifty ; wealthy, greatly addicSled to women, 
 though at the bottom- a man of honour, and i'o 
 C3 cau- 
 
[ i8 ] 
 
 tautlous in his intrigues, from the particular re- 
 gard he bore to his lady, that few or none of 
 them ever came to light. 
 
 On our arrival, my prote<Strefs wrote to the 
 Countcfs and her daughter; but the anfwers {he 
 received were fo veiy unfavourable to me, that I 
 fhould have been fent back with difgrace to my 
 parents, if the offences which were laid to my 
 charge had not appeared evidently to fpring 
 from the malice of Mademoifelle d'Elbicux. 
 
 Mean while, I made it my bufinefs to ingra* 
 
 tiate myfel f more and more to Madame de G • . 
 
 Her daughter, who w^as about ten years old, 
 was taught writing and mufic j and as my voice 
 was naturally very agreeable, my benevolent 
 patrcnefs was pleafcd to order that I fliould 
 make ufe of that opportunity for the improve- 
 ment of it. As for writing, I foon attained fo 
 much proficiency as to^hojd a correfpondence, 
 which gave me no fmall fatisfadlion ; for no 
 fooner had I got rid of my fears for the Cheva- 
 lier, than all my refolutions to forget the Marquis 
 gradually vaniflied. 
 
 I had not been long in the family, when the 
 Receiver, charmed with my youthful innocence, 
 and fure of me as he thought, from the honelt 
 fmiplicity with which I anfwered his proteffa- 
 tions of friendfhip, and other fly advances, in- 
 veigled me, by means of one of his lady's wo- 
 men, to apartments which he had furniflicd 
 fumptuoufly for me, and in which I fhould inr 
 fallibly ha\ e fallen a vi£i^im to his guilty pafTion, 
 if I had not found means fecretly to convey a 
 
 note to Madame de G , who presently came 
 
 to my relief. 
 
 This 
 
[ 19 I 
 
 This circumftance yet more endeared me to 
 my amiable patronefs ; who, inftead of render-* 
 ing her hufband defperate by outrageous abufe, 
 as is too often the abfurd cuftom upon fuch oc- 
 cafions, generoufly foothed him into a fenfe of 
 his error ; and from that day he ceafed not to 
 treat me with the tendernef^ of a parent. 
 
 Almoft a year elapfed, and I had not once 
 received the fmallell tidings of the Marquis ; 
 a circumftance, which, aided by reflection, had 
 confiderably abated the imprudent extravagance 
 with which I loved him. 
 
 Several gentlemen, vifiters of the fiimily, 
 paid their addrelTes to me. Of thefe the moft 
 importunate was Mr. Gripart, farmer-general 
 of the taxes, a man of immenfe opulence, but 
 meanly penurious, and frightfully deformed. 
 
 A/Ionfieur de G and his Lady, I found, 
 
 were altogether bent upon my marrying him. 
 My diftrefs was intolerable. I called to mind 
 the beginning of my paffion for the Marquis, 
 and the many tender things he had faid and 
 vowed to me. 
 
 " Heavens!" cried 1 to myfelf, <« is it poill- 
 ble that he fhould forget it all ; and in fo long 
 a time never once let me hear from him ? 
 And yet how much did I confide in it ! Fatal 
 credulity ! Falfe, deceitful man !" 
 
 A torrent of tears fucceeded ; and certainly 
 none were ever fhed with greater fmcerity. 
 
 One morning, while I was in tears, and 
 overwhelmed with reflections of this nature, 
 
 Chriflina, a waiting-maid of MadamedeG , 
 
 and my bofom friend, came into my chamber 
 
 witji 
 
f 20 T 
 Witli joy In her countenance, and' told me tfiat 
 «ny mother and fifter were in the houfe. 
 
 To fee a mother and fifter after fo long an ab- 
 fence, what an endearing comfort ! — I wiped my 
 eyes, and flew to fold them in my arms. When the 
 firft ardor of our tranfports was abated, I learn- 
 ed, that my father would be in Paris foon,- and' 
 that Colin had married my fifter out of fpite ; at- 
 which, for her own fake I was not a little 
 pleafed, as the young fellow had very good dif- 
 pofitions, as well as wherewithal to make- 
 her very eafy inher circumftances ; and finally,. 
 
 that by means of Madame de G , I had' 
 
 been reftored to the favour of the Countefs of 
 
 N , at whofe defire it was they had come. 
 
 hither to fee me married to a man who wouldi 
 heap wealth and honour upon my family. 
 
 Hardly were thefe words uttered,, when my 
 mother withdrew, in confcqucnce of a meflage 
 
 from P4adame de G . Neither fhe nor my 
 
 fifter could give me any farther intelligence 
 about this hufband who was to do fuch fine 
 things ; but my fears told me that it could be 
 no other than Monfieur Gripart.- I turned pale 
 with anxiety and terror; but, unwilling to con- 
 fide in my fifter, I entered into a variety of en- 
 quiries about the family at the cafUe; and fhe 
 told me, that the Countefs would be foon in 
 town with her daughter, who had been courted 
 
 for fome time by Monfieur de F ; that no 
 
 one knew what had become of the Chevalier ; 
 that the Marquis fent conftantly twice a week 
 to know if I had been found, but to no pur- 
 pofe, as the Countefs had charged every perfon 
 to be filent about me 3 and that notwithftand- 
 
 ing 
 
[ 21 ] 
 
 ing every dlfFerent report which had been pro* 
 pagated to my difadvantage, I was ftill beloved 
 by every one but Mademoifelle d'Elbieux, who 
 Iccretly loved the Marquis. 
 
 A deep figh forced its way ; and that was 
 fucceeded by a torrent of tears. 
 
 Touched with my diftrefs, my fifter, not* 
 withftanding the ftri6l injunctions flie had re- 
 ceived to the contrary, could no longer with- 
 hold from me a letter from the Marquis, which 
 Mademoifelle de Pare, who had received it from 
 Dubois for that purpofe, had put into her hands 
 the night before fhe came from home. 
 
 I blufhed and trembled while I read his vows 
 of eternal love and fidelity j his defcription of 
 the torture he endured from the cruel uncer- 
 tainty of my fituation ; his entreaties, that, if 
 his letter fhould come fafe to hand, I would 
 let him hear from me, and thereby fave a life 
 which, " had long fince been devoted to me 
 alone.*' 
 
 Scarce had I time to read the letter, wheji 
 my fifter, who flood on the watch, came run- 
 ning to tell me fhe heard fomebody on the ftairs, 
 I put It up haftily ; and being fent for by the 
 Lady, I went with a heavy heart, foreboding 
 the ill news I fhould hear. 
 
 " I am overjoyed, Jenny," faid Madame de 
 
 G , as foon as fhe faw me, *' that I have 
 
 it in my power to make you amends for what> 
 through a principle of virtue, you heretofore 
 declined. From that time Monfieur de G 
 and I were determined to make your fortune. A 
 match is agreed on for you, and I fent for your 
 parents to rejoice with you on this occafion. 
 
 Mon^ 
 
r 2» T 
 
 UTonileur Gripart is the perfon de/igned' for 
 you : he is much in love with you, and has al* 
 ready made a fettlement upon you of twent)^ 
 thoufand crowns. 
 
 I blufhed, and could make no anfwer. 
 
 *' That blufh, Jenny, becomes you, and is; 
 a- mark of your modefty," refumed fhe.— 
 ♦* True," replied my mother ; <* but that ought 
 •rot to hinder her from throwing herfelf at your 
 feet, Madam, and thanking you for all your 
 favours." 
 
 This I immediately did, kifling the hand of 
 my benefacStrefs, who raifed' me up, and toolc 
 me in her arms. My mother, charmed with 
 fuch marks of affedion, was at a lofs how to 
 €xprefs her gratitude^ and the lady being at that' 
 inftant informed that company was coming in^, 
 we retired to my chamber. 
 
 The day following my father came ; and fo 
 great were his furprife and joy at feeing the al- 
 teration in his daughter, that he actually ihcd. 
 te^rs. 
 
 There were now but three days till that 
 appointed for the folemnifation of a wedding,, 
 againft which I dared not to allcdge a reafon, 
 and which I was therefore unable to put off. 
 
 On the evening previous to the intended' 
 ceremony, as we took the air on a high terrace 
 belonging to the caftle of C , the place ap- 
 pointed for our nuptials, I beheld riding gently 
 through a by-path a gentleman, fecmingly ab- 
 forbed in grief. 
 
 As he drew nearer, I thought I knew him.— 
 Alas ! it was the Marquis himfelf. I fhrieked ; 
 and he, alraoft iii the fame inftant, exclaimed, 
 
 " Good 
 
t 23 ! 
 
 -«< Good God ! 'tis fhe.'* Saying this, he 
 dapped fpurs to his horfe, and was prefentl/ 
 .out of fight. 
 
 Mr. Gripart, who guefled not the caufe of 
 my diforder, and my father, led me into a 
 .room, and laid me on a couch ; where I foon 
 -recovered, and felt myfelf unufually compofed^ 
 As I expe<Sted, it was not long before Madame 
 
 .de G was informed that a gentleman de- 
 
 fired to fpeak with her ; and a few minutes 
 after^ I was fent for. The Marquis was upon 
 his knees before the Lady ; but leaving her, ha 
 addrefled himfelf to me in the fame pofture. 
 
 ^' Ah ! Jenny," faid he^ ^< do I deferve to 
 be rendered the moft forlorn of men ? — Twen- 
 ty letters have I fent to you, and what anfwers 
 have I received? — No longer ago than yefter- 
 day, you wrote to me that I muft never trou- 
 ble you more; that you never loved me; and 
 that I fhould never know your abode till you 
 was fccure in the arms of a hufband — " 
 
 " Alas ! Sir," I cried, " you have had no 
 4etter from me." 
 
 '< No letter 1 cruel creature ! am I not to be 
 believed without a proof of what I fay ? This 
 paper then" (continued he, pulling one out of 
 his "pocket) '* will juftify me. — Is not that your 
 letter ? — •■' Indeed it is not." cried I, examining 
 it, for as yet he knew not my writing ; — '«• it is 
 Mademoifelle d'Elbieux's hand. Sir." 
 
 <« It is Mademoifelle d' Elbieux's hand," e- 
 
 choed Madame de G , who had eyed it over 
 
 my flioulder — " it is indeed, Sir." 
 
 This intelligence rendered the Marquis ra- 
 ther more compofed ^ though his fxtuation feem- 
 
 ed 
 
I 24 ] 
 €(1 (1111 fo very diftrefTing, that Madame dtf 
 
 G was at length induced from pity to con- 
 
 itnt that the wedding fliould be deferred for a 
 fvxek. 
 
 How great was my furprife, v/hen, that fame 
 night, my patronefs calling me afide, told me, 
 that fhe had jufl obferved in the park, fronting 
 the terrace, live or fix ftrangers on horfeback, 
 and among them the livery of the Chevalter 
 d'Elbieux ! 
 
 We were both at a lofs what ftep to take. 
 At length I propofed to make my efcap e : but 
 whither to retire for fafety I knew not. Ma- 
 dam de G approved of the fcheme, recol- 
 lecting the Abbefs of a monaftery about two 
 leagues off, to whom {l:ie had been a particular 
 friend ; and embracing me, we were on the 
 point of leaving the room, when the Marquis 
 entered with detraction in his looks. 
 
 '' I have heard all that has pafled,'* faid 
 he. " There is a defign to rob me of my 
 Jenny ; but fooner will 1 lofe my life than part 
 with her." 
 
 He was not to be pacified, till, afluming a 
 determined tone, to which my tears had almoft 
 given the lie, 1 folemnly declared, that, "if 
 he would not agree to my retreat as already pro- 
 pofed, and quit the caitle inftantly, I would 
 marry Mr. Gripart, and never fee him more." 
 
 l^he Marquis rofe quite artonifhed, fcized 
 my hand, and bathed it with his tears. 
 
 How dangerous is a man beloved when he 
 
 appears in fuch an attitude! — A virtuous young 
 
 woman fliould never look on fuch a fpetStacle ; 
 
 and it was happy fur me that fo refpeclcd a per- 
 
 ^ foil 
 
[ 25 J 
 
 fon as Madame de G was prefent, otherwife 
 
 my heart would have foon recalled what my vir- 
 tue had advanced. 
 
 On fuch occafions, flight is our compleateft 
 vidory ; 1 therefore forced my way, and fhut 
 myfelf up in a clofet. The Lady at laft ap- 
 peafed the Marquis, by promifmg to fend him an 
 account of me ; and behaved fo well to him, 
 that after exprefling his love for me in the mofl 
 affedionate terms, he retired. 
 
 My lover was no fooner gone than all my re- 
 folution vanifhed. I ran over every fyllable he 
 had uttered j and the weaknefs I now expe- 
 rienced was at leaft a balance to the lofty airs I 
 had, but a few minutes before, alTumed, 
 
 As foon as Madame de G had got rid of 
 
 the Marquis (he went to her hufband ; v/ho, 
 ftartled at the account fhe gave him, was alfo 
 of opinion that it was highly neceffary to re- 
 move me ; and that very evening a trufty fer- 
 yant conduced me, unperceived by any one, to 
 the monaftery of St. N , where I was re- 
 ceived with the utmoft courtefy. 
 
 After a night of cruel agitation, I fell afleep, 
 and awaked not till the fun, already above the 
 horizon, fhone into my cell. My chamber- 
 door opened, and an ancient nun entered to ac- 
 quaint me that Madame de G— • waited for 
 me in the Abbefs's parlour. 
 
 I no fooner beheld my patronefs than I ga- 
 thered from her looks that fomething fatal had 
 happened j and the moment we were alone (he 
 began the following narrative, charging me, 
 however, to keep it a profound fee ret, as ruin 
 to her family, as well as to myfelf, would be the 
 D con- 
 
[ 26 ] 
 
 x^onfequence if it was known that I was the 
 caufe of what had happened the preceding 
 night. 
 
 " You had fcarce left the caftle," faid fhe, 
 «' when Mr. Gripart, having liftened to two of 
 the footmen I mentioned to you, who had been 
 talking together in the park, and overheard 
 fomething about a gallant you had, came to 
 me in a violent hurry, and accufed me of art 
 intended impofition upon him. In fpite of 
 every thing I could fay to him, he left me dif- 
 fatibiied, and fet off from the cafHe. The 
 Marquis, too, notwithftanding the precaution 
 I had given him, was fo unguarded in his re- 
 treat, that the fervants of the Chevalier knevf 
 him, and told their mafter ; who, imagining 
 that the report of your marriage to Gripart 
 was only a pretext to render his rival happy, 
 determined to follow him. By the wrong di- 
 rc6lion of afhepherd, however, inftead of pur- 
 fuing the road your lover took, he ftruck into 
 the road Mr. Gripart had taken ; with whom 
 having prefently come up, he fired at his valet, 
 who immediately fell from his horfe. 
 
 *< Imagining they were attacked by thieves, 
 Gripart immediately got out of his vehicle, an-d 
 through fear fell on his knees in the middle of 
 the road. The Chevalier, in his fury, rode over 
 him, thinking to find the Marquis in the chaifej 
 into which he difcharged a piftol, and fhatter- 
 ed the poftilion's ihoulder. Aftonifhed to find 
 it empty, he once more rode over the unfor- 
 unate financier. 
 
 *'The Marquis, mean while, roufed from his 
 melancholy by the noife of piflols, as he re- 
 
 tunie4 
 
[ 27 ] 
 
 turned gently home, opprefTed with all the 
 chagrin of a difappointed lover, turned preci-* 
 pitately towards the fpot from whence it Teem- 
 ed to ifTue ; and knowing that you was on the 
 road, his fears told him that a fecond rape had 
 been attempted. 
 
 *' This conjevSture was foon confirmed by the 
 prefence of d'EIbieux, who, eager to be re- 
 venged, forgot that his piftol was difcharged, 
 and faced his rival with it. The Marquis 
 fired j and after lodging the whole charge in his 
 body, and prefenting the other piftol at his 
 head, declared him a dead man if he did not 
 tell him where his Jenny was, and what he had 
 done with her. The Chevalier, having de- 
 clared that he had not ken you, and that he 
 was truly forry for the offences he had com- 
 mitted, his fpeech failed him ; and the Mar- 
 quis, after giving orders to his fervants to carry 
 him to the caftle, returned to me to inform ni? 
 of what had palled. 
 
 " Conceive my diftrefs, when he related to 
 me the bloody news. My fears were folely for 
 him ; his were centered in his charming Jenny, 
 left the friends of the Chevalier fhould make in- 
 tereft to imprifon her for life. 
 
 " I affured him, however, that your retreat 
 was wholly unknown to the world, and that 
 you palled in the convent for my niece. At 
 thefe words he feemed to revive ; and, alarmed 
 for his danger, I prevailed with him to retire 
 that moment. Prefently after, the Chevalier 
 was brought in. His wound is dangerous, but 
 the furgeon thinks he may get the better of it^ 
 Mr, Gripart is io full of bruifes, that he will 
 D2 not 
 
r 28 ] 
 
 not be able to ftir thefe fix months ; the valet 
 is dead ; the poftilion lies dangeroufly iJl ; and, 
 in fhort, my houfe is become a downright hof-' 
 pita}. 
 
 " Such, Jenny," added fhe, " fuch are the 
 efFe^ls of your cruel charms : I wifh to God 
 you had been lels beautiful, you had then in- 
 spired lefs love. Had I followed the advice of 
 Mademoifelle d'Elbieux, in fending you to your 
 parents when I firft brought you to town, I 
 would have avoided much forrow." 
 
 This laft ftroke of Madame de G was 
 
 a thou fand daggers in my heart ; and I fhould 
 hive funk lifelefs upon the ground, if Saint 
 Agnes, an amiable young nun for whom I had 
 already conceived a very great afFedion, had not 
 come in, and fupported me. 
 
 Madame de G took her leave, recom- 
 
 inending me to her care, and defiring her to 
 afRire me, when I came to myfelf again, that 
 fhc would always ccrilider me as her daughter, 
 and that I fhould foon hear from her. 
 
 An unreferved confidence commenced be- 
 tween Saint Agnes and me ; a circumftance 
 which rendered my new Situation infinitely 
 more agreeable than it would have been other- 
 wife. One morning, as I went into the re- 
 fedlory, whom fhould I fee there but Made- 
 moifelle d'Elbieux, my mortal enemy. I trem- 
 bled, turned pale, and fell back upon a chair ; 
 every one, Mademoifelle herfelf not excepted, 
 running to my aiTiflance. 
 
 The moment flie looked in my face, fhe ex- 
 claimed, "Good God! 'tis Jenny — who 
 would have thought it ?" 
 
 And 
 
C 29 ] 
 
 And fhe fprung from me as If fhe was dif* 
 traded, crying aloud that I was a wicked 
 creature, and that I had caufed her brother to 
 be aflailinated. 
 
 She related my hiflory to the whole commu- 
 nity in the ftrongeft and moft hideous colours 
 that malice could invent; and the Abbefs^ 
 
 piqued that Madame deG had palTed me as 
 
 one of her own relations, afllued her that flie 
 Would difmifs me foon. 
 
 Mademoifelle d'Elbieux prefently left us ;. 
 for I found that fhe had only flopped at the 
 monaftery for fome refrefliment, her mother ha- 
 ving formerly been a boarder in it, on her way 
 to Monfieur de G 's caftle to fee her bro- 
 ther. 
 
 The two days fubfequent to her departure, I 
 fpent upon the rack of anxiety. On the third 
 
 day Madame de G wrote to my Superior to 
 
 put me into the hands of the bearer of her 
 letter ; whom, to my great comfort, I found 
 to be Chriftina, her woman. 
 
 I had no fooner got into the cbaife which 
 waited for me, than, in anfwer to my eager en- 
 quiries, fhe told me, to my great farprife, that 
 my enlargement from the monaftery was owing 
 to the Chevalier ; who, touched with a fenfe of 
 the misfortunes he had brought upon me, and 
 in hourly expectation of his dillbiution, defired, 
 with tears in his eyes, to fee me before he died j 
 and that, knowing the antipathy which his 
 fifler entertained to me, he had made her pro- 
 mi fe that fhe would receive me with kind- 
 ft«fs. 
 
 D 3 « That 
 
[ 30 ] 
 
 ^* That very night," continued Chrif?inay 
 
 *' after Madame de G came back from the 
 
 monaftery, there were fent to the caftle, as we 
 had apprehended, warrants to arreft you, the 
 Marquis, the Chevalier, and all who had any 
 concern in the fatal adventure of the preceding 
 evening. Through the intereft of Monfieur 
 
 de G , however, all thofe warrants have 
 
 been withdrawn, except that againft yourfelf. 
 Yet be not alarmed : the fearch is over, and 
 you run no rifque while you are with my 
 Lady." 
 
 She faid a great deal more to encourage me ; 
 but in vain* A thoufand times did 1 think 
 with regret of the days I had pafled in the 
 peaceful cottage of my parents, when my plea- 
 fures were fimple, and to forrows I was a- 
 ilranjer. 
 
 Madame de G recei\Td me with her 
 
 wonted tendernefs ; not, however, without ex- 
 prefEng her perplexity to know what to do witb 
 
 me. The old Marquis of L V——, it 
 
 ieems-, had complained bitterly that, by protecSt- 
 ing me, fhe had been the caufe of the duel hi3 
 ion had fought, and infilled that I fhould be 
 delivered into his hands, promifing to treat me. 
 "with kindnefs j a meafure to which Monfieur 
 
 de G flrongly inclined. On my knees, I 
 
 conjured her not to abandon me ; and flie af- 
 fured me that fhe would not, if fhe could by- 
 any mear^s avoid it. 
 
 In the mean time, fhe condu<3:ed me to the 
 Chevalier's apartment, where I found Made- 
 moifclle d'Elbieux, who received me with. an» 
 aiiabUity that gave the lie to her heart* 
 
 A3 
 
[ 31 ] 
 
 As for her brother, he had done nothing for 
 the laft twenty-four hours, but call for me. At 
 my approach he ftretched out his hand, and told 
 me, in a faint accent, that now he would die 
 contented. He expreffed the utmoft remorfe for 
 having plotted againft my innocence ; he af- 
 fured me, that he now entertained a moft fin- 
 cere and tender friendfhip for me; and, as a 
 proof of It, he prefented me with a bond which 
 had been left him by an uncle for twenty thou- 
 fand livres.. 
 
 This fcene forced tears from all about him ; 
 and on his recovery, which was not till after 
 a long and dangerous ffruggle between life and 
 death, fhocked at the thoughts of his paft difor- 
 derly condu6l, and fearful of relapfing into it^ 
 he retired from the world, unknown to every 
 body, and became a capuchin.. 
 
 Two days after this event, which was com- 
 municated to us by letter,, and deeply affeded 
 us all, Mademoifelle d'Elbieux took her leave 
 of us,- and beftowed upon me fo many tender 
 marks of efteem, that I fimply believed them 
 iincere. 
 
 It was not long however, before I learnt by 
 experience, that when a woman has once- 
 taken an averfion to aperfonj.fhe rarely changes 
 her mind. 
 
 That fame, week, I received by Dubois a let- 
 ter from my faithful lover, who had retired into 
 Lorrain in confequence of the late melancholy 
 rencounter, where he informed me, he had re- 
 ceived orders from his father to take a tour into 
 Germany till the ftorm fhould have efFevSlually 
 fubfided» It was full of the tendereft expref- 
 
f 32 ] 
 
 fions ; and in my anfwer to it, I avowed to 
 him, for the firft time, the fentiments of my heart 
 without referve. 
 
 In the mean time, as I grew up, my reafon 
 augmented with my years : this furnifhed me 
 with a fteadinefs which fupported me againft 
 the dreadful apprehenfions of what was to 
 come. 
 
 Madame de G , who pofTefTed a deal of 
 
 wit, and knowledge of the world, gave a po- 
 lite turn to my education : the fmcere attach- 
 ment fhe perceived I had to her, fo prepoflefTed 
 her in my favour, that fhe would pafs whole 
 days in my company. Thefe frequent converfa- 
 tions had cleared up my underftanding : with- 
 out living in the world, I had learnt all its 
 ways from the various hiftories fhe had placed 
 before my eyes, and the daily tranfadions that 
 pafTed. 
 
 When I was alone, I examined with care all 
 that had been faid^ and had penetration enough 
 to draw this conclufion m general, that each 
 feafon of our lives draws after it its neceflary 
 dependencies. From hence I was perfuaded, 
 that in a fucceflion of things, life pafTes away, 
 and that prefent evils are to be fupported by the 
 confideration, that they either give way to, or 
 are relieved by, frefh events which make us for- 
 get the paft. 
 
 While thus I lived, carefled by Madame de 
 G , beloved by the Marquis, and not with- 
 out hopes that in time I might call him mine, 
 one morning, at dawn, I was awakened with a 
 knocking at my door. I hurried on my things, 
 ijpened it, and beheld Madame de G , ac- 
 companied 
 
[ 33 ] 
 
 companied by a gentleman, whom I prefentfy 
 underftood to be a nephew of the old Mar- 
 quis, and commifTioned by him to put me into 
 a monaflery, in virtue of an order he had ob- 
 tained for that purpofe. 
 
 The ftranger advanced to me in a polite 
 manner, and, with a figh, afTured me, that I had 
 nothing to fear, as he had undertaken the bufi- 
 nefs merely from a defire of obliging the young 
 M?.rquis his coufm, to whofe paiTion for me, 
 notwithftanding his referve, he was no ftran- 
 ger ; and that otherwife a worfe cataftrophe 
 might have been the confequence. I prefently 
 found that this blow came from the bafe Made- 
 moifelle d'EIbieux ; who, to compafs her ends, 
 
 had been the firft to defire Madame de G to 
 
 continue me at her houfe. Making a virtue of 
 neceffity, I told the Count de St. Fal, fo the 
 ftranger was called, that I was ready to obey 
 him ; and embracing Madame de G • , I 
 wept in her arms, and received her tears upon 
 my bofom, while, unknown to the Count, ftie 
 flipped her purfe into my hand with twenty-five 
 louis-d'ors in it, and her pi(5lure inclofed in a lit- 
 tle box. 
 
 During the firft day of our journey, the 
 Count, from the unfavourable light in which I 
 had been reprefented to him, and my fuppofed 
 want of education, was frequently inclined to 
 be very free with me j both by flattery and by 
 threats, be fought to make me comply with his 
 paifion. But he found my inclinations fo ftea- 
 dily virtuous, that the next day he behaved to 
 me with as much refpe6l and complaifance, as 
 if I had been a perfon of the firft quality. 
 
 His 
 
[ 3/^ ] 
 
 His converfatlon was eafy ; and not deflitute of 
 wit, of which, taking me for a mere country- 
 girl, he was furprifed to find I poffefled fome 
 Ihare myfelf. 
 
 Part of the third day pafTed without a word 
 from the Count. He viewed me frequently 
 with a kind of fatisfa^lion, which generally 
 ended in a figh ; a behaviour which terri- 
 fied me, left he fhould prove another Chevalier 
 d'Elbicux. 
 
 I turned pale at the very thought, alone 
 as I was, no friend near, and abandoned by the 
 whole world. 
 
 Sometimes I had thoughts of endeavouring 
 to make my efcape. But whither fhould I go ? 
 What part of the country was I in ? A power- 
 ful family, in whofe hands I was, violently in- 
 cenfed againft me. 
 
 Befides, with fhame I own it, I no longer 
 had the courage I was formerly poiTefTed of: I 
 was grown weak and tender, by being bred a 
 fine Lady, and had loft that roughnefs wh'ch 
 boldly faces any danger. A thoufand appre- 
 heiifions concurred to alarm me, and made fuch 
 an impreflion, that the Count plainly perceived 
 it, and did every thing that could poftibly make 
 me eafy, or atone for the afiTonts he had offered 
 to me. 
 
 He applauded his coufm's pafTion for me, and 
 at the fame time owned himfelf his rival. But 
 he afTured me, that he would neither attempt to 
 diminifh my inclination to the Marquis, nor 
 urge me to make the fmallcft return to the fen- 
 timents with which I had Infpired him ; and 
 that, whatever treatment he might receive from 
 
 me. 
 
[ 35 ] 
 
 me, he would not regret that he had under- 
 taken the old Marquis's commiflion, fince it 
 furnifhed him with an opportunity of doing me 
 a fervice. 
 
 With thefe words he called to the poftillon, 
 and told him to take the firft road that led to 
 Verfailles. 
 
 This counter-order furprifed me, but gave 
 me no uneafmefs ; the place he mentioned being 
 the King's refidence, which naturally recalled 
 the dear remembrance of my meeting his Ma- 
 jefty at Fontainebleau ; the accident that afford- 
 ed me the firft knowledge of my lover. It was 
 alfo to be the abode of the Marquis, when he 
 obtained leave to return from Lorraine, which 
 I flattered myfelf would be very foon. 
 
 Thefe endearing reflections quickly difpelled 
 the lowering clouds, which my prefent fituation 
 had gathered. 
 
 The Count perceived my countenance bright- 
 en 5 but he imputed it entirely to joy that I was 
 not to be confined in a monaftery, and renewed 
 his proteftations, that though he fhould not be 
 fo happy as to gain my efteem, he v^ould at 
 leaft merit it by his fervices and complaifance. 
 
 We alighted at a village ; where, having 
 dined in the company of a young Lady, who 
 happened to be in the inn, and was of his ac- 
 quaintance, he left us, on pretence of trying 
 the benefit of the air for a headach, while 
 the ftranger related to me the incidents of 
 her life, and the mifery into which fhe was 
 plunged. 
 
 My amiable companion had retired to bed; the 
 clock had ftruck twelve -, yet had I not heard 
 
 any 
 
[ 36 ] 
 ^•ny tidings of Monfieurde St. Fa], nor could I 
 conceive the caule of his abfence. 
 
 At length came a letter to me by an exprefs. 
 It was from the Count : and he told me, among 
 a number of other things, that, having gone to 
 
 S G— — , in order to prepare a lodging for 
 
 me till I was more happily fettled, he found 
 there the young Marquis, whither he had fled 
 from Lorraine notwithrtanding the injundlions he 
 had received from his father, and his difgrace at 
 Court ; that he appeared to have fome fufpicion 
 cf his father's intentions towards me, and, 
 though he pretended quite another ftory, to be 
 in acl:ual fearch of me. 
 
 He advifed me, in the prefent fituation of 
 my affairs, by all means to avoid my lover, 
 and to come to him on the morrow at Ver- 
 fallles, as he durft not return to me for fear of 
 his coufin ; and he added, that there I would be 
 fecure from danger, as the old Marquis was at 
 his feat in the country, and had no doubt but 
 that I was already immured in the monaftery. 
 
 What pleafed me moil in this letter was, the 
 frefh proof it gave me of the Marquis's love, I 
 could not help being fenfibly touched with the 
 kind regard he fhewed me ; and my heart was 
 but too well pleafed to fee the pains he took t« 
 fee me. 
 
 This natural confequence I drew from it, that 
 fince I was fofinccrely beloved by him, I needed 
 to give myfelf no difquiet for what might hap- 
 pen; or at Icaft, in cafe of any accident, I had a 
 protector to depend on, who would fupporc mc 
 3gainft the attacks of adverfe fortune, 
 
 Not^ 
 
f 37 3 
 
 Notwithftanding the pleafure I took in thefe 
 reflections, I could not but approve of the 
 condu6l of Monfieur de St Fal. Though I 
 made no doubt but love and jealoufy had the 
 greateft fhare in it, yet the polite and en- 
 gaging manner in which this new admirer be-« 
 haved, made me quite eafy. 
 
 Be this as it may, I was on the point of 
 giving full fcope to an ample train of reflec- 
 tions, when, calling to mind that the cafe re- 
 quired a pofitiveanfwer, I reftrained my thoughts 
 to the point in view, what was to be done. 
 
 This gave me no fmall uneafmefs. Once I 
 thought of taking advantage of the Count's ab- 
 fence, and throwing myfelf into the arms of 
 my relations. But a vanity inherent to my fex, 
 which difdained the meannefs of my birth ; the 
 notion of what people would fay ; love, if the 
 reader pleafes ; the hopes of a charming and 
 much-defired fortune ; all thefe things too 
 ftrongly offered themfelves to my imagination, 
 and entirely banifhed that defign. Fearing even 
 this virtuous difpofition might influence me, I 
 wrote inflantly to Monfieur de St. Fal, and in-' 
 formed him that I relied fo much upon his 
 honour as to be entirely guided by him, and 
 that I would be at Verfailles (as in his letter he 
 had defired me) where I hoped to experience a 
 continuance of his goodnefs. 
 
 The exprefs was fcarce out of fight when 
 I repented of what I had done ; and the more 
 I thought of it, the more I found it repugnant 
 to my virtue. I recolle6led the fnare I had fo 
 
 narrowly efcaped when Monfieur de G -- 
 
 hired an apartment for me ^ and I could not 
 E per-* 
 
r 38 1 
 
 perfbade myfelf that the apparent ^ifirrterefled- 
 nefs of St. Fal was jiot a cloke to conceal fome 
 bafe defign. 
 
 Liiidamine, my companion in the inn, whofe 
 mournful flory had not a little endeared her to 
 jne, was to fet off next day for a convent. As 
 my only remedy, I determined to throw myfelf 
 -once more on Madame de G for pro- 
 tection, in hopes that^ moved with the new 
 hazards to which my virtue had been expofed, 
 ihe would again receive me into her arms ; or at 
 leaft, if, for the fame reafons as before, ilie durft 
 not keep me, fhe would ufe her credit to 
 Jiave me admitted into themonaftery from whence 
 i came. 
 
 " There," faid I, « I ihall find my fmcere 
 friend St. Agnes again ; and Lindamine will 
 Jiot a little add to my comfort; we will join 
 ^11 three, of us our .diftrefles, and there will I 
 -quietly wait the end of my misfortunes, or my 
 life.'' 
 
 When the hour for the departure of Linda- 
 <inine drew near, I went to her chamber, and 
 told her my refolution ; which gave her fo much 
 joy, that fhe embraced me with tranfport, and 
 offered to divide with me her little fortune. 
 
 I was getting into the.chaife to execute our 
 proje<Sl, which to prevent difco.very I did alone^ 
 and was to meet Lindamine at a little diftance 
 from the village ; ^when 'St. -Fal's valet, con- 
 cluding that 1 intended to effect my efcape, 
 told me, refpCiSlfully enough, ^' he could not 
 confcnt that 1 fhould ufe his mafter's .chai(e 
 Harithout pofitive orders.'* 
 
 I blufk-* 
 
r 39 J 
 
 T Bluflied, and returned to my apartment^ 
 unknowing what refolution to take. Linda- 
 mine was aflonifhed to fee me again ; and on 
 my informing her of what had happened, (he 
 advifed me to retire to my chamber, to pretend 
 indifpofition, and to have no intercourfc with 
 her till midnight, when, with the affi (lance of 
 her fteward, we fhould be able to get ofF unob*- 
 ferved. I contrived to fend the valet to Ver- 
 failles on an errand to his mailer, and every 
 thing feemed to promife fuccefs to our plan^ 
 y/hen, about eight in the evening, hearing 
 fome horfes flop at the inn, I looked haftily out 
 of the wimiow, hardly difpleafed to think that, 
 as he was in the neighbourhood, k might per- 
 haps be the Marquis, 
 
 By the light of the torches, I difcerned get- 
 ting out of t^e coach a tali man, fomevvhat ad« 
 vanced in years, of a venerable afpe«5t, and 
 ieemingly, by his numerous retinue, of great 
 •quality. Having obferved him caft his eyes 
 ."upon me, and as I thought, look rather fondly, 
 I drew in ; and foon after, opprefTed with the 
 agitations of my mind, I fcii aileep in an armed 
 chair, leaving the door half open for Linda- 
 mine to enter when it was time to fet our. 
 
 Hov/ great was my furpriie, when, on open- 
 ing ray eyes, I faw itanding befide me the gen- 
 tleman who had alighted from the coach, wit a 
 a man whom I took to be his valet 1 The tor* 
 mer addrefTed me with great politenefs, and 
 apologifed for his appearance in my apartment, 
 by informing me that he had miflaken it for his 
 ©wn, and that he was on the point of retiring; 
 ^cti I awaked. 
 
 E % Thwe 
 
[ 40 ] 
 
 There was fomething, 1 could not tell what, 
 in the venerable ftranger which plcafed me ; 
 and, without knowing the reafon for it, I 
 could not help wifliing to make myfelf agree- 
 able to him. We had a long converfation, in 
 the courfe of which he repeatedly extolled my 
 modefty, my beauty, and my good fenfe— re- 
 peatedly wifhed, that, inllead of running aftef 
 a *« forry creature from a dung-hill," his fhj had 
 "hern enamoured of a perfon any wife compara- 
 ble to me» 
 
 The old gentleman then began to take in 
 pieces the poor country girl j a circumllance 
 which ftruck me to the heart, as it convinced 
 me, that my vifiter was no other than the old 
 Marquis, my lover's father, and the young wo- 
 man whofe characSlcr he thus cruelly mangled, 
 that very Lady whom he had a minute before 
 been exalting to the fkies. 
 
 Nothing but the fear of lofing my dear liber- 
 ty could have fupported me at fuch a crifis ; and 
 as not a foul in the houfe, not even the poftil- 
 lion who drove us, knew me, I did not defpair 
 of getting oft" without a difcovery. A blufh, 
 however, and a confufed look betrayed them- 
 felves, and did not efcape the notice of the 
 flirewd Marquis ; who declared, that he would 
 not ftir from the houfe till he knew from 
 whence they fprung. At thefe words I was \o 
 cruelly terrified, that I fell down in a fwoon 5 
 in which I pretended to continue till he and 
 all his attendants were obliged to proceed in their 
 journey. 
 
 1 then feigned an inclination to fleep, in or- 
 der tg be left alone, and went to Lindamine's 
 
 apa rt^ 
 
r 4-r I 
 
 apartment, where fhe waited for me with i*m» 
 patience. At the dead hour of night, agree- 
 ably to appointment, the fleward conducted us 
 to the chaife, unfeen and unheard but by the 
 poftillion. 
 
 We had not advanced above fotir miles, when^ 
 as the driver w^as refting his horfes, after get*- 
 ting up a pretty fteep hill, we heard through the 
 flillnefs of the night, the trampling of horfes. 
 The noife encreafed, and notv^^ithftanding that 
 of the chaife, now in motion, we could hear 
 rhem gain upon us every minute. We were 
 both in the utmoft conflernatiorb. 
 
 *' Heavens !" exclaimed I, *^ perhaps their 
 defign is upon me !" 
 
 Sometimes I concluded that it was the old' 
 Marquis, and fometimes that it was Monfieur 
 de St. Fal, who was in putfuit of me. Nor 
 was it long before, by the light of torches, I 
 diftinguifbed the latter, pale and almoft breath- 
 lefs v/ith joy that he had found me, with his 
 attendants furrounding the chaife. 
 
 Hearing that our expedition terminated in a 
 monaftery, he extolled our difcretion, as he 
 railed it, returned thanks to Lindamine for het 
 eivilitics to me, and afTured' her that, fo fooa 
 as I was conveniently fettled, he would wait oit; 
 her with an account of me. 
 
 By this time came up the Count's chaife,, 
 which, on a fuppofition that he fhould over- 
 take us, he had ordered to follow; andwitKa: 
 tender embrace, and a promife that fhe fhould 
 ©ften h^ from me, I took my leave of Linda* 
 mine, 
 
 E 3 I foom 
 
[ 42 ] 
 
 I foon found that it was owing to the unex- 
 pe<£ted appearance of his valet at Verfailles, that 
 St. Fal, had been induced to fufpet^ my elope- 
 ment. And indeed his behaviour was ftill (o 
 uniformly worthy of my efteem, that, from 
 my heart, I regreted that I had given him the 
 imalleft caufe for uneafmefs. 
 
 As the beft apology I could urge for my 
 flight, I informed him of my adventure with 
 the old Marquis, and my dread of falling into 
 his hands. He appeared to be greatly concern- 
 ed at the accident, though not a little pleafed 
 that my elopement proceeded from no averfion 
 to him. The delicacy of his fentimcnts, the 
 fincerity with which he inceflantly declared, 
 that my friendfhip alone he wiflied to merit, 
 moved me exceedingly. Yet though he told 
 me that, fuch had been his precautions, I 
 fhould be much more fafe at Verfailles, where 
 jio one troubled himfelf but with his own con- 
 cerns, than in- any other place, I ftill was un- 
 happy. I was to pafs there for the Countefs 
 des Roches, a widow, though I had nothing to 
 fupport the dignity of that title, but what I 
 might owe to the bounty of a man whofe mo- 
 tives might be mifconftrued by the world. 
 This reflection was equally alarming to my vir- 
 tue and to my pride ; nor could ail the wit and 
 ingenuity of St. Fal remove my fcruples. 
 
 The extremity to which I was nduced, and 
 the approach of want, could hardly juftify fo 
 d. ngerous a ftep ; in reality, I ought to have 
 futmitted to the orders he was to put in execu- 
 tion raiher than thus expofe my innocence, 
 A young woman can never be too much upon 
 
 her 
 
t 43 3 
 
 her guard againft herfelf; a word, a trifle, 
 oftentimes efFedls her overthrow. Real virtue 
 is always attended with diffidence and humility ; 
 its conftant leflbn is, to fear ourfelves 5 it is 
 this happy diffidence which crowns the work, 
 and enables us to triumph over the iierceft af- 
 faults of vice, 
 
 Thefe refle£l:ions brought me to Verfailles ; 
 where having placed me in apartments fumpt- 
 uoufly furnifhed, with proper fervants to wait 
 upon me, St. Fal defired I would employ the 
 good fenfe he knew me miftrefs of, to amufe 
 myfelf in his abfence ; giving me to underftand 
 that he was obliged to pals the reft of the day 
 with the old Marquis, for whom he muft in- 
 vent fome ftory concerning me, and, in or- 
 der to excufe himfelf, to pretend I had made 
 my efcape from hrm. 
 
 The next day, as I was fitting down to din- 
 ner, he fent his name in. His behaviour nov/ 
 was ftill more refpecElful than ever, as if to 
 avoid reminding me how much I was beholden 
 to him ; and while my waiting-woman was 
 prefent, we talked. only of general things. As 
 foon as we were alone he told me, that the old 
 Marquis would hardly believe I had efcaped 
 from him ; that he broke out into a violent 
 paffion, but became at length more compofed, 
 feemed to ruminate much upon his adventure at 
 the inn, and was to fet out for Paris in a day or 
 two. 
 
 I endeavoured to make proper acknowledge- 
 ments, for the many favours he had conferred 
 upon me, and exprefied my fears about his mo- 
 tives for them. Thefe he interrupted by feizing 
 
 my 
 
r 44 T 
 
 fliy Hand, and protefting, that, though he lovetJ 
 me to adojation, yet he had not a wifh but to- 
 promote my happinefs, even at the expence of 
 his own. He proceeded in a ftrain fo tenderly 
 d i fin tere fled, that I was greatly afte^led, and 
 could not help declaring to him, that if my 
 afFecSlions were difengaged, I knew not a maiv 
 but himfelf who could hope to fecure them. 
 
 At thefe words he dropped upon his knees, 
 in a tranfport of joy, killed my hand, and bath- 
 ed it with his tears, 
 
 '* Heavens !" exclaimed in the inftant 3 
 voice from the door^ which was half open— 
 *< I am betrayed ! — Perfidious woman, never 
 will I fee thee m.ore !" 
 
 The found of the voice ; the cruel exclama- 
 tion ; the fudden difappearance of the perfon- 
 who fpoke ; the poflure the Count was in when 
 I was furprifed, all together made me flart up^ 
 and fly to the door, 
 
 " Alas ! I am undone,'* cried I, difcovering 
 the young Marquis, as he precipitately with*- 
 drew. 
 
 This unexpccEled apparition flruck fuch a ter- 
 ror into me, that I muft have funk upon 'the 
 floor, if happily a fopha had not received 
 me. 
 
 St. Fal, equally furprifed,. ran to my afTift- 
 ance. 
 
 '* O Heavens !'* cried I, " I am quite fpent, 
 I am in defpair — Leave me. Sir — follow your 
 eoufm — he believes me guilty, detefb me, and 
 you — you are the caufe of it. Alas ! I ajU 
 i^uke fpeatj 1 ana in defpair !'* 
 
 He 
 
C 45 ] 
 
 Me prefently overtook the Marquis, as I un- 
 derftood by their high words. Thefe I feared 
 would produce a quarrel ; but my agony was To 
 great that I found myfelf unable to get on my 
 feet to prevent it. 
 
 Till the evening did I remain in this dread- 
 ful fufpcnfe, during which time I formed twen- 
 ty different proje^s. Sometimes I was for re- 
 tiring to a monaftefy, and fometimes for going 
 
 to Madame de G , to beg that fhe would 
 
 receive me as a fervant. In a word, a multitude 
 of different fchemes prefcnted themfelves, yet I 
 had not courage to fix upon any one of 
 them. 
 
 My lad refolution, after a long ftrugglej 
 was to go to Paris, and fhut myfelf up in a 
 room where I might learn to work, till I had 
 recovered myfelf fufficiently to conclude what 
 was to be done. This plan fettled, I dried up 
 my tears, and wrote a letter to the Marquis, 
 in which I juftified myfelf in a handfome man- 
 ner, and aflured him, that fince he had thought 
 fit to fufpedl my conduct, he fhould never fee 
 me more. 
 
 In the fame pacquet I inclofed another di- 
 rected to Monfieur de St. Fal, where I returned 
 him thanks for all his civilities^ and affured 
 him, that, whatever fhould befal me, they would 
 be always frefh in my memory ; adding, that I did 
 him the juftice to flatter myfelf, that notwith- 
 ftanding what the world might think fit to fay 
 of me, he would fcorn to condemn me on 
 bare appearances, as his kinfman had done, 
 
 I was jufl going to feal them, my defign be- 
 ing to leave tliem behind me on my toilet, 
 
 when 
 
[ 46 ] 
 
 Tf^hcrr the Marquis and St. Fal fucldenly entered 
 the room. The former inftantly threw himfelf 
 at my feet, feized one of my hands, and would- 
 have fpoke, but could not. His fenfibility was 
 t«o great for utterance.. 
 
 St. Fal was ftill filent, leaning on the back 
 M>f my chair; ft'om whence, while the tears 
 gufhed fronv my eyes, and my heart throbbed,, 
 2 had not power to rife. 
 
 At length, after promifing to return the next 
 day, he took his leave of us, after informing 
 me, that he had prefently eonvinced^ my lover 
 how dcferving I was of his zffeStions -, that the 
 Marquis had twenty times blufhed to think he 
 could fufpe^l my condudi ; and that they would 
 have been with me four hours fooner had they 
 not met the old Marquis, to whom they were 
 afraid to give reafon for fufpe£l:ing them •— "^ Re-- 
 cover yourfelf then, Madam," added he; *' dry 
 Vp your tearSy and enjoy without difturbance the 
 ^leafurc of feeing a lover again, who deferves- 
 you as well from his honourable intentions,, as 
 hy the greatncfs of his paflion." 
 
 My heart was fo full, and fo much* affe£led' 
 with the prefence of a lover too dear to me, that 
 I was fcarce able to return a bow to this generous 
 friend. 
 
 At any other time, I would not have beea 
 left alone with the Marquis ;. but theny I was in 
 a different way of thinking. I felt a fecret joy 
 to find rayfeif acquitted in his mind, and 
 wifhed to hear it confirmed. My tears were no^ 
 longer the efFc6t of defpair ; the trouble I was 
 in feemed a pleafing kind of melancholy, and 
 afforded x fatisfadion. — How delightful muft 
 
 that 
 
r 47 J 
 
 t'feat ^leafure -be, which comes in the room 
 <t£ misfortunes that were expe6lecl | — Never 
 >do I reflfidl on this period of my iife, but with 
 .the utmoft content. 
 
 What did my heart feel while my beloved 
 Marquis made his agology ! How gracefully did 
 iie acquit himfelf ! — -A heart of marble mult 
 "^ave been moved at every word he fpoke. 
 
 Happy is a young woman, when inbred mo- 
 defty and virtue are her guard, or when fevere 
 edu^cation fupplies the waat of fuch happy dif- 
 pofitions — ^^Without one of thefe reftramts, I 
 know not (with confuiion I fpeak it) how far I 
 might have indiilged myfelf. 
 
 As the night was now far advanced, decency 
 required that the Marquis fhould retire. This 
 I hinted to him; and, ever coniplaifant and 
 lra6lable, he obeyed, killing my hand. I plain- 
 ly perceived, by his countenance and addrefs, 
 fhat he wiflied for fomething more. I thought 
 I might allow him a kifs, and turned my cheek 
 to him; but with fo much confufion, that he 
 ^afily perceived -it was the firfl kils I had ever 
 beftowed on any man, and that it was to the liu- 
 cferity of my paflion he wafi entirely beholden 
 to it. 
 
 The next day he renewed his vifit, when we 
 entertained each other with a detail of every 
 thing that had happened to us fince our fepa^ 
 ration. This done, I could not forbear hint- 
 ing the uneafmefs I felt at being a burthen to 
 St. Fal ; my unwillingnefs to live any longer 
 at his expence or that of any perfon ; and my 
 refolution, notwithftanding my diflike to it, to 
 take fheiter in a convent. 
 
 After 
 
[ 48 ] 
 
 After fome difcourfe on this fubjecEl he re- 
 jtlred, afluriiig me that he would immediately 
 ihink of fome method to make me €afy, till he 
 had the happinefs of (hewing that he efteemed 
 jiothing in this world equal to me. 
 
 Thefe laft marks of my lover's tendernefs af- 
 ^rded me much comfort My hopes began to 
 tower; and, notwithftanding the many obftacles 
 that might difcourage me from expe6ting a 
 feufband of the Marquis's quality, 1 ftill flat- 
 tered myfelf with the bewitching chimera. 
 Every thing appears poflible, when eagerly de- 
 fired. After feveral reflections on this head, 
 I bethought myfelf of the letters I had writtea 
 to the Marquis and St. Fal. Prompted by cu- 
 riofity, I would have read them again, but they 
 were not to be found. At firft 1 was uneafy, 
 and looked earneftly for them, though in vain. 
 Nobody had been in the room but the perfons 
 to whom they were direcSted ; I concluded there- 
 fore that they had committed the robbery ; 
 and, every thing confidered, was no wife dif- 
 pleafed at it. 
 
 Thefe letters, efpecially that to the Marquis, 
 difplayed my averfion to my prefent fituation, 
 and a difrelifh to all afliftance from others. I 
 imagined this might induce the Marquis to pro- 
 vide for me v/ithout my feeming to afk it ; and, 
 at any rate, his having promifed to marry me I 
 judged fuflicientfor my juftifi cation. 
 
 The next day I received a letter from the 
 Marquis, acquainting me, that he could not 
 fee me for two days, being obliged to wait on 
 his father at Paris, requefting as a favour, that 
 J would not be impatient j hoping that his re- 
 3 turn 
 
[ 49 ] 
 
 turn would efFe£l an agreeable change In my af- 
 fairs j and affuring me I fhould have no room to 
 repent the confidence 1 had placed in him. 
 
 During this interval, though I had deter- 
 mined to fhut myfelf up till the return of my 
 dear lover, Madame de Geneval, my landlady, 
 made a propofal to me of going to fee the King 
 at mafs, v^^hich I embraced the more readily, as 
 I never doubted but the old Marquis was in 
 Paris, and that I was in no danger of being 
 difcovered. 
 
 But how great was my aftonifhment, when, 
 mafs being over, I perceived the father of my 
 lover, whofe journey to town, as I afterwards 
 underftood, was merely a pretence to impofe 
 upon his fon, and who, recolle£ling my fea- 
 tures, advanced, and paid his refpe6ts tome !— 
 A perfon fomewhat in years, and feemingly of 
 diftindlion, came luckily to fpeak to the Mar- 
 quis, which gave me time to recover. 
 
 He had no fooner left me than my blood ran 
 cold at the thoughts of my narrow efcape. I 
 begged Madame de Geneval to fhew me the 
 way out, and was going to throw myfelf into 
 the firft fedan which prefented itfelf, without 
 farther thought than the dread of being follow- 
 ed, when I heard a voice call out " Run, and 
 beg her to ftay a moment." 
 
 My fright redoubled j and in an inftant the 
 old Marquis joined me. He prefented his hand 
 to me, requefting that I would accept of his 
 chair home, and that I would permit him 
 to pay his refpe6ls to me after dinner. I 
 anfwered his compliment, by exprefliing my 
 F fenfe 
 
[ so ] 
 
 fenfe of his civilities, and of the honour I ihould 
 receive from his vifit. 
 
 On my return to my apartments, I gave my- 
 felf up to forrow and to tears ; and fearing that 
 my lover, perhaps flill in Verfailles, might 
 come upon us while his father was with me, I 
 wrote to him every thing that had happened 
 to me, and befought him to take me away, 
 and not expofe me to the danger of lofmg him 
 for ever. 
 
 As foon as my letter was finifhed, I fell into 
 a new perplexity how to get it properly deli- 
 vered ; and not only that I might be more fe- 
 cure, but that I might avoid the Marquis's 
 vifit, I at length determined to order a chair, 
 and be the bearer of it myfelf. I commit- 
 ted myfelf to the guidance of my chairmen, 
 convinced, that, as my lover was univerfally 
 known, they could not miftake his lodgings. 
 When I came to the door, I kept clofe in my 
 chair, and was going to deliver my letter to the 
 porter, when Dubois, his old and faithful valet, 
 appeared, and told me, to my utter perplexity, 
 thai the chairmen had made a miftake ; that the 
 young Marquis was in Paris j that his father 
 was in the houfe ; and that every thing woirfd 
 be difcovcred if he faw me. 
 
 Thefe words were hardly pronounced, when 
 the old Marquis came out j and, knowing me 
 again, he blamed himfelf for not having haften- 
 ed his vifitj politely handed me out ©f my chair, 
 and made me follow him. 
 
 As foon as I was feated, the noblemen who 
 were at table with him, to the number of {even. 
 or eight, faid the politeft things imaginable to 
 
 mc. 
 
[SI 3 
 
 me, particularly the Duke of — , who had 
 repeatedly diftinguiilied me by Kis looks fince 
 my arrival at Verfailles, and who now made a 
 very earneft tender to me of his • fervices at 
 court. I told the company mybufmefs at Ver- 
 failles, agreeably to the lefTon given me by St. 
 Fa], and acquitted myfelf with tolerable ad^ 
 drefs. 
 
 I had got up to take my leave, when the old 
 Marquis, whofe eyes were never ofF me, ha- 
 ving defired me to ftay a moment longer, pro- 
 pofed to me to fee the tragedy of [phigenia 
 performed that evening. Fearful left a longer 
 interview might create a drfcovery, I reprefent- 
 ed that it would be improper for me to appear 
 at the theatre, either alone^ or accompanied by 
 a man, and rofe a fecond time to go. But the 
 father of my lover, after replacing me with 
 great refpedl upon m.y chair, told -me that he 
 had already fent for the Lady with whom I 
 lived, and that he was fure fhe would be over- 
 joyed to have the honour of waiting upon me. 
 No longer able to refift fuch prefling and polite 
 folicitaticns, I recommended myfelf to God^ 
 and his divine protection. 
 
 The point now was, v/ho fhould efcort 
 Madame de Geneval and me to the play. The 
 Marquis excufed himfelf as being too old, and 
 his turn to be in waiting. All that were pre- 
 
 fent offered themfelves ; but the Duke of • 
 
 happened to be the privileged man, on account of 
 his quality no doubt. 
 
 The attention, mean while, with which the 
 
 old Marquis continued to examine me, kept 
 
 aKve my fears, and made me cottclude, not 
 
 F 2 only 
 
t 52 ] 
 Only that he knew me, or at leaft fufpe^led 
 who I was, but that he had fecret motives for 
 his behaviour to me. The play was over (du- 
 ring which the Duke had beftowed upon me a 
 number of little, tender afliduities) and the en- 
 tertainment was ready to begin, when the old 
 Marquis appeared in an adjoining box, bowed 
 to mc, and exprefTed his hopes that I had been 
 a e:-ably entertained. 
 
 Though I anfwered with propriety enough to 
 this queltion, yet part of the company turned 
 about to me, either on account of my pronuncia- 
 tion, or perfon. I flood it^ however, as well 
 as all the polite things "the young Duke per- 
 illed to fay to me. As I will not difguife the 
 truth, fo I fmcerely own, that though this dlf- 
 ccurfe caufed no emotions in my heart, I liftcn- 
 ed to it, however, with pleafure. The wifeft 
 of us all are not infenfible to flatter)', when ac- 
 companied with tafte and delicacy. 
 
 I then happened to throw my eyes involun- 
 tarily upon the Duke as he addrefled me ; when, 
 turning myfelf round, I beheld the young 
 Marquis leaning towards us, as if to hear what 
 pafled. Soon as my eyes met thofe of my 
 lover, he raifed himfelf, and looked another 
 way J and I, flruck at his unexpe6led appear- 
 ance, ftruck with the fcorn which he evidently 
 exprefTed, changed colour, and, on pretence of 
 a ht of giddinefs, begged leave to retire. 
 
 Affedionate and tender as I was, let any one 
 imagine my trouble and confufion. What in- 
 nocence on my fide, yet what caufe for fufpicion 
 to the Marquis 1 
 
 He 
 
C 53 ] 
 
 He finds me at the play ; I appear to be en- 
 gaged with a very handfome young gentleman, 
 and attentive to his difcourfe -, no Iboner do 1 
 difcover him than I am out of countenance; 
 I do more, I go out, and fo feem to avoid him» 
 All thefe things, united to the uneafmefs arifing 
 from what Dubois had undoubtedly told him, 
 could not fufFer him to be very eafy, parti- 
 cularly after the proofs he had given of his jea- 
 loufy. 
 
 I intended, when at home, to fhut myfelf 
 up and write ; but how much was my anxiety 
 encreafed, when the young Duke of -— met 
 me coming out of my chair ! — He had follow- 
 ed me in his, and offered his hand with an air of 
 concern for my indifpofition, which very hap- 
 pily was vifible in my face, and which I made 
 ufe of as a pretext to get rid of him, by faying 
 I found myfelf oppreffed, and was going to 
 bed. 
 
 He approved of my refolution, and offered to 
 fend an eminent phyfician to my relief. I 
 thanked him for the obliging offer, but declined 
 it ; and when I v/as come to my apartment, he 
 retired, affuring me he would have the honour 
 to wait on me the next day, and in the mean 
 time he would inform himfelf punctually of 
 my health - 
 
 I thought I was going to be at quiet, but F 
 bad Madame de Geneval's officioufnefs to en* 
 dure ftill. The honour and diftinClion I had' 
 procured her of being thus nobly accompanied 
 to the play, rendered her polite (which was far 
 from being her real difpofition) fhrewdly ima- 
 gining that if we remained good friends, fhe 
 F 3 fliould^ 
 
[5+3 
 
 fhould afterwards enjoy the fame prerogatives. 
 Civility obliged me to wait till ihe might 
 be pleafed to quit me^ which fhe did as foon as 
 1 was in bed. 
 
 There, having previoufly ordered myfelf to 
 be denied to every foul that might come, I 
 gave a loofe to my tears, which gave me fome 
 jelief. 
 
 In effe£l, could there be a more cruel cafe 
 than mine ? Had I one happy moment, from 
 the time I firft knew myfelf? — One accident 
 had followed another; I had not had one mo- 
 ment's reft. What could I hope from what 
 was to come ? — What incidents feemed ready 
 to create new troubles ! — The uneafmefs of the 
 old IVIarquis about me ; his fon's love and jea- 
 
 loufy ; the Duka of 's fentiments, who 
 
 had no fooner conceived than declared them ; 
 would not all this draw on confequences ? 
 Could I expedl anything elfe ? 
 
 1 then arofe, and, to avoid all furprife, ha- 
 ving drawn the bolts, wrote a letter to my lover, 
 in which I ingenuoufly related every thing 
 that had pafTed. I forefaw the uneafinefs he 
 would fufFer on account of my converfation 
 with the Duke at the play ; I mentioned my 
 :ipprehcnfions in relation to his father ; and 
 1 begged him, in order to obviate what might 
 happen, to change my abode, and even the 
 town, if it could be done. 
 
 After thus relieving myfelf of the burthen 
 which weighed me down, I found myfelf a good 
 deal eafier. It was after midnight before my 
 letter was fealed, and there was no likelihood of 
 getting it delivered till morning. 
 
I 55 J 
 
 Oh Heaven ! I tremble at this hour, when^ 
 J think of the cruel anfwer I received. If any 
 of my readers have fhared in the preceding per- 
 plexities I have undergone, let them continue 
 their pity for me -, they will foon fee whether I 
 had deferved them, and whether the peace and" 
 profperity I now enjoy, have not been pur- 
 chafed by all that is moft fenftble to a woman,! 
 whofe heart has ever been fo tender and fo faith- 
 ful as mine. 
 
 It was almofl: three in the afternoon, and ftill 
 no tidings from my lover. Let any one ima- 
 gine what I fufFered. A thoufand things came- 
 into my head upon this delay ; and to crown my 
 mifery, Madame de Geneval entered my cham- 
 ber, telling me that the old Marquis, who in- 
 deed followed her, was come. 
 
 How hard is it to afFe6l tranquillity, when; 
 inwardly racked with cares ! 
 
 The father of my lover perceived the con- 
 ftraint I was under, and afked me if he was not 
 come at an improper time. I could not help 
 blujQiing at his. penetration ; however, I was 
 fuccefsful enough in my anfwer, attributing the 
 trouble I could not hide to the continuance of. 
 my indifpofition. To recover my felf, and to a- 
 void a converfation of which I dreaded the con- 
 fequences, I afked his Lordfhip*s permiifion to 
 continue my work. 
 
 This gave me an opportunity of looking 
 down, for I was frightened to meet his eyes. 
 Though in years he had a piercing look, which 
 feemed to read one's very thoughts ; and, whe- 
 ther it was prejudice or fear, every time he look- 
 ed me in the face, I imagined his eyes faid, 
 
 «AhJ 
 
C 5-6 J 
 
 *^ Ah I J-enny, Jenny, 'tis to no purpofe td 
 hide yourfejf from me ^ — I trace the very mo- 
 tions of your heart." 
 
 It may be fuppofed I was not very eafy under 
 fuch an apprehenfion. The old Marquis, too 
 quick-fighted not to fee the diforder I vv^as in, 
 and defirous perhaps to augment it, or find out 
 the meaning of it, drew near, and, though in 
 the moft. refined manner in the world, began to 
 be very fweet upon me. 
 
 The name of father to the man I adored, gave 
 the old Marquis fo much influence over me,, 
 both through fear, and my regard for his fon, that, 
 had not courage to contradict feveral expref- 
 fions I fhould certainly have interrupted but for. 
 thefe motives. 
 
 Yet my condefcenfion was not fuch as to 
 give him room to exceed the bounds of a cer- 
 tain decency ; and by my condu6l I experienced: 
 how true it is, that a virtuous woman may 
 always keep the men at a diftance if fhe pleafes^ 
 and that whenever they attempt undue en- 
 croachments, fhe can only blame herfelf for her; 
 want of referve. 
 
 At length the old Marquis, highly pleafed 
 with his vifit, took his leave of me : night 
 came, and with it, a letter from my lover, — • 
 But what a letter !— It was to intimate to me_, 
 that he was furprifed I fhould take the trouble 
 of giving him, who had no right to expect- it, 
 an account of my behaviour -, that if the Duko 
 
 of entertained the fame defigns for me as 
 
 be had done, he enjoyed at leaft the fatisfailion 
 
 •f having put the. firft hand to the making of 
 
 I my 
 
[ 57 ] 
 my fortune ; and that he would be Gareful never 
 more to difturb my new engagement by his pre- 
 fence. 
 
 I burft into tears, bewailing my unhappinefs 
 in having been the innocent caufe of this fatal 
 quarrel, and wifliing for death to put a period 
 to my woes, when St. P'al entered my apart- 
 ment. 
 
 With his ufual generofity, inftead of taking 
 this advantage to plead his own palicn, he ex- 
 erted himfelf in behalf of his Icinfman ; and to 
 mitigate my grief he affiired me, that this mif- 
 underftanding was folely owing to the excefs of 
 his love for me. The Marquis appeared no 
 more ; and at the end of two days, St. Fal 
 owned to me that he was gone to join his 
 regiment in Germany, where hoftilities were 
 begun. 
 
 How cruelly was I alarmed at this news !— 
 I would fee nobody. St. Fal, the complaifant 
 St. Fal, exhaufbed to no purpofe his whole 
 ftoclc of good-nature ; I could fcarc bear 
 with him. The old Marquis v/as the only one 
 I did not dare to refufe ; and though I was fo 
 melancholy, that if he had not gueffed the rea- 
 fon, he muft neceflarily have difcerned an alte- 
 ration in me, yet he was complaifant enough to 
 fuit himfelf to my humour. 
 
 As for the Duke, he was quite at a non- 
 plus ; for I gave him fo cold a reception, and 
 explained myfelf with fo much refolution on 
 the fubje£l of his vifits, that he feldom ^dared 
 to appear, notwithftanding his eafy behaviour. 
 
 This is a itrong proof of a woman's power 
 when beloved i then her tyranny knows no 
 
 bounds, 
 
[ 5§ J 
 bound?, and it Is fubmitted to the more fer- 
 vilely, as a dread of difpleafing is the very foun- 
 dation of her empire. 
 
 Eight days pafled on wifhout coming to stny 
 rcfolution. Sometimes I was for fhutting my- 
 felf up in a monallery ; at other times I thought 
 of going home, and throwing myfelf at my 
 father and mother's feet, to punifli what I then 
 €alle<l an error, by returning to my primitive ^ 
 mean condition. From this nothing but my 
 vanity prevented me. 
 
 On the ninth day I wrote to St. Fal, defiring 
 he would come to me immediately. My refo- 
 lution was fixed. Alas ! how many tears were 
 fhed ! But virtue remained triumphant! I was 
 determined to throw myfelf into a cloifter, and 
 employ the repeated promifes St. Fal had made 
 cf ferving me, to be received a nun. 
 
 How little do women, at the age I then was, 
 know themfelves ! how cautious ought they to 
 be, when driven precipitately inta any flate of 
 life I Oftentimes their weaknefs hurries them 
 into extremes ; a love- quarrel, the inconftancy 
 of an admirer, miflcads their mind, or rather 
 their judgment ! Thus intoxicated, a young 
 woman takes a refolution, and either marries a 
 rival for whom fhe has no reliih, or becomes 
 (if bred, like me, in a catholic countryj'a nun 
 without a vocation. — And what is the confe- 
 quence ? — The cloud vanlfhes, fhe comes to 
 herfelf, and looks back with horror on the flep 
 fhe has taken, the flatc in which fhe is en- 
 gaged. Grief and tears are the only remedy 
 left ; death is called on, but to youth its ap- 
 
 proache« 
 
I 59 3 
 proaches are flow, and is a thoufand times un- 
 dergone before it comes. 
 
 St. Fal was too afliduous not to fly at my 
 fummons, 
 
 " Come, my Lord," faid I, the moment he 
 appeared, " crown the work you have begun; 
 you are the only perfon I rely upon. — May I 
 flatter myfelf I am not deceived ?'* 
 
 '' Can you queftion my fmcerity ?" cried he, 
 with an air that fully evinced it. " Speak, 
 charming Jenny ; nothing appears impoflible to 
 the zeal I have for your fervice. Would you 
 have me overtake the Marquis, reproach him 
 for his injuftice, force him to ? 
 
 " No," interrupted I, with more tranquillity 
 than I could expect ; <' your kinfman's eyes are 
 opened, love had blinded him ; he now fees the 
 great diftance between us, he blufhes at his 
 own weaknefs, and will atone for it by aban- 
 doning me. He is too dear for me to blame his 
 behaviour, which needed not have been ib 
 harfh ; hut I refpe6l even his feverities. — Let 
 us fay no more on this fubjecSt, dear Count 
 (continued I, unable toreftrain my tears) thofe 
 happy moments, in which I indulged fo flat- 
 tering an illufion, muft be forgotten. My de- 
 fign is to throw myfelf into a convent, and 
 there, in the loweft ftation, humble that vanity 
 i have too much encouiaged. Heaven, in pity 
 of my youth, I may fay innocence, will give 
 me ftrength to break through my bonds; my 
 conftant prayer will be, to free my heart from 
 the image too deeply engraved there ; my tears, 
 continually poured out before its altars, will 
 prevail perhaps, and obtain for me that peace 
 
 from 
 
C 60 ] 
 from which at prefent, alas ! I am fo much 
 eftrangcd.'* 
 
 - St. Fal feelingly fympathifed with me, but 
 ilrongly remonftrated againft my prppofal of 
 burying myfelf in a convent. Animated per- 
 haps with the hopes that chance might one day 
 favour his paiTion, he mentioned the proje6l of 
 a middle ftate, a temporary retirement from the 
 -world, without renouncing it entirely. 
 
 In this crifis we were fuddenly interrupted 
 by the unexpected appearance of the Duke 
 
 of , who, I gueffed by his looks, had 
 
 fomething bad to tell me. Nor did they de- 
 ceive me. Another Countefs des Roches, with 
 the Count her hufband, had been with him, 
 and he came to me for proofs that I was the 
 identical perfon fpecified in a memorial, which 
 he had prefented in my behalf. 
 
 St. Fal, who knew not that the Duke had 
 interefted himfelf in my affairs, bit his nails, 
 as if at a lofs how to a(5l, took his leave, and 
 <:ontrived to .carry the Duke along with him. 
 He returned foon after, and found me quite 
 ftupefied, to fuch a degree was 1 overwhelmed 
 with the endlefs croffes that' befel me. My 
 tears began to find a pafTage ; and, as the laft 
 mark of his friendfhip, 1 entreated of him not 
 to forfake me till I was fettled in a monaftery. 
 
 He did not feem much averfe to my refolu- 
 tion ; but remonftrated that 1 muft retire fome 
 where till a proper convent was pitched upon. 
 Our confultation lafled an hour ; when it was 
 refolved that I fhould fet off next morning 
 for Paris, without giving the leaft hint of my 
 retreat to Madame de Geneval, whom we had 
 
 every 
 
r 6i ] 
 
 «very reafon to diftruft, but to tell her that, 
 being too much ftraitened for room, I had 
 taken a houfe that was empty, and fhould fur- 
 -nifh it myfelF. 
 
 We took this precaution, left in her fre- 
 quent conferences with the old Marquis, fhe 
 fhould give him fome light which would put 
 him on his guard, in cafe he difTembled with me. 
 I could not forbear fufpedting as much. la 
 his eyes 1 could read, every time he looked at 
 me, afecret defign, which never failed of making 
 me uneafy. 
 
 To be a woman and fubtle, is much the 
 fame. Simplicity is feldom found after twenty; 
 nay, thirteen has produced as artful women as 
 ever thirty did. 
 
 Be this as it may, every thing concerted was 
 put in execution. The furniture was taken 
 down early the next morning ; but inftead of 
 fending it to the place intimated to La Gene- 
 val, one of the Count's fervants conveyed it ta 
 Paris, on carriages hired for that purpofe. 
 
 Secret undertakings are generally attended 
 with difagreeable accidents. I was got into a 
 poft-chaife provided by St. Fal, in order to 
 join him, and was thanking Heaven that I had 
 made my efcape without any obftacle j when, 
 turning round, I ooferved the old Marquis, 
 who pafled clofe by me in his coach from 
 Paris. 
 
 I turned pale at the fight of him, being con- 
 vinced he knew me- by his earneft look, and 
 a fmile. What he difcovered in my counte- 
 nance I knew not. I prefently loft fight of 
 him. My chaife went at a great rate, and I 
 G flattered 
 
r 62 ] 
 
 fluttered myfelf that my fears were the worft of 
 my adventure. 
 
 As fhort as my journey was, it afforded time 
 for reflection. I began, through cuftom, to 
 bear much better thecontinualcrofles which befel 
 me than the Marquis's inconftancy. That 
 was ftill uppermoft in my thoughts ; and I even 
 wi^Tied to have it in my power to reward the affi- 
 duity of the generous Count. 
 
 From my fighs, however, St. Fal perceived 
 that I ftiJl loved the Marquis with the fame 
 tendernefs as ever ; and after fupper, which, 
 though it was not flridtly proper, I permitted 
 him to ftay with me in a ready-furniflied hotel 
 he had taken, till handfome apartments could 
 be fitted up for me, he told me that his duty- 
 called him alfo to Germany to join the army, 
 where he fhould fee the Marquis, and that 
 I might foon hope to receive favourable news 
 from him. 
 
 The idea charmed me ; and at length St. 
 Fal took his leave of me, with tears trickling 
 down his cheeks, and with the firongeft aflii- 
 raiiccs of his zeal to promote my happiiiefs. 
 On the eighth day from his departure I received 
 two letters, one from the army, and one from 
 Verfailles. Notwithftanding my impatience to 
 hear fome tidings of the inconftant Marquis, 
 cHiiofity induced me to open my Verfailles 
 cpidleflrft. ■ • :. 
 
 How great was my aftonifhment when I 
 fiiund that it was from the old Marquis ; that he 
 kntw who 1 was, and every thing that con- 
 cerned me ; that 1 ought to be under no appre- 
 htnfion from him 3 as he was refolved to be 
 
 th© 
 
r 63 ] 
 
 the firft in fixing my happinefs ; and that he 
 fhould be at Paris the next day to wait upon mr, 
 when, if it was not my own fault, I fhould 
 receive convincing proofs of the value he puc 
 upon my virtue ! 
 
 The reading of this letter threw me into a 
 fit of trembling, dubious as I was what to d( , 
 and pierced to my very foul. 
 
 " Heavens," cried I, " have pity on ir.c, 
 and aflift me ! — What means this fudden al- 
 teration ! — What can be the old Marquis's 
 -defigns ! — How can he contribute to make nic 
 happy ! — Alas ! I am certainly betrayed by h;s 
 fon, who, to get rid of me at once, has facri- 
 ficed me to his father. It is certainly fo : the 
 parent, fatisfied with this, has laid afide h s 
 antipathy ; and, either from generofity, cr 
 from policy, propofes to fettle me in fuch a 
 manner as to prevent any accident in cafe liis 
 fon fhould relent. But how cruel is fuch coii« 
 du<5l ! — Could I ever have expe6led fo much 
 barbarity from a lover ! — How could he for^i'cc; 
 that his father's threats and averfion would give 
 place to generofity ? 
 
 Engrofled by thefe reflections, I forgot St. 
 Fal's letter, long as it had been expeded, and 
 carneflly as it had been defired. At lafl I 
 opened it, and found a frefh fubjedl forforrow, 
 and for allonifhment. 
 
 The Marquis, he told me, was gone, before 
 his arrival at the camp, in confequence of his 
 own particular requeffc, and to divert his melan- 
 choly, upon an expedition which, on account 
 of the danger that would attend it, gave greiv^ 
 uneafinefs to his friends ; though neverthelefs he 
 G 2 hoped 
 
[ 64 ] 
 hoped to have it In his power foon to tranfmit 
 i'avourable accounts of him to me. 
 
 Our attachment to a beloved objeft never 
 exerts itfelf vi^ith greater force than vi^hen we^ 
 think ourfelves on the point of lofing it. My 
 notion of war''was certainly very imperfect y 
 yet no fooner did I know that the Marquis's 
 life was in danger, than my imagination repre- 
 fented it with all its horrors. 
 
 *' O Heaven," exclaimed I all in tears, " why 
 am I thus overwhelmed on all fides at once ? — 
 How am I to furvive it ? — What can (o many 
 aiHiciions one upon another portend ? — Do 
 they not prefage the greateft of misfortunes ?— 
 But I am prepared to undergo every thing, 
 provided my lover be fafe, and efcape from the 
 clangers to which his courage may expofe 
 him. — How unfortunate was 1 not to juflify 
 myfelf before his departure ! — Perhaps my inno- 
 cence might have reftored him to me, and 
 made him careful of a life he ought to preferve 
 for my fake." 
 
 I fhall not relate all the expoftulations which 
 forrow dictated to me on this occafion. Suf- 
 fice it to obferve, that though I had time to 
 prepare for the old Marquis's vifit, I found my- 
 felf neverthelefs dreadfully perplexed when he 
 appeared. 
 
 His prefence made me fenfible of the great 
 diftancc between us, knowing he was now ac- 
 quamted with my origin. Can pride receive a 
 greater check ! However, I took upon me io 
 far as to conquer my blufhing and confu- 
 iion. 
 
 <« Is 
 
[ 65 } 
 
 *« Is it poflible, my Lord," fald I, receiving 
 him with great rerpe(5l, and prefenting a chair, 
 •* that you fhould condefcend to fee me after 
 the difcovery you have made ? — What compa- 
 rifon is there between a country girl, one who 
 has been fo unhappy as to fall under your 
 difpleafure, and a nobleman of your rank ? — 
 Whence comes fuch a diftindion which I have 
 no wife defer ved ?" 
 
 *' Let us have no more of that, lovely Jen- 
 ny," faid the Marquis, making me fit down ; — • 
 " I have no longer the reafon of complaint I 
 had formerly againft you ; and that virtue, of 
 which I have received convincing proofs, has 
 created a due regard for one who is worthy of 
 it. Well, fay nothing of your birth ; not but 
 I was mightily taken with your candid ac- 
 knowledgment ; a ftroke that did not want 
 its force, nor efcape my obfervation. — A mean 
 birth is the capricious effect of chance, never 
 to be called in mind but when vice deforms 
 it; whereas- prudence, and noble actions, ftrip 
 it of all that is contemptible, and caft a luflre 
 upon it, not inferior to that of kings, when 
 no falfe flep is made in the thorny paths of 
 virtue. I fhall fay no more on this head ; you 
 have, my dear girl, the lefs need of inftrudion, 
 as your education has been very extraordina- 
 ry. What I have to mention is of a diiFerent 
 nature ; but before I explain myfelf farther, I 
 defire you will tell me, with that candour fo 
 becoming virtue and honour, upon what terms 
 you are with my fon. I have reafons for afk- 
 ing this queftion 5 if your anfwer proves fatis- 
 iafiory, it will lay an obligation on me, and 
 G 3 you 
 
t 66 ] 
 
 you fhall never repent having explained your- 
 lelf on a fubjed I have more at heart than you 
 imagine. — Truth carries a greater weight in my 
 judgment than any other qualification what- 
 ever." 
 
 When the old Marquis wrote his intention 
 of making me a vifit, I expe<5led to fufFer very 
 much from the converfation ; but I little 
 thought it would turn on fuch an important 
 fubject. I was the more terrified, being at- 
 tacked in the moft fenfible part : all evafions 
 appeared ufelefs : 1 had one of the fubtleft of 
 men to deal with, whofe penetration was fur- 
 prifing. While he fpoke, his eyes were fixed 
 upon me, and he feemed to fearch the fecret 
 recefles of my heart. — How could I withftand 
 fo terrible an aflault ? — If I propofed to fuc- 
 ceed with one of his turn, there was nothing 
 left but to a6l with fmc^rity ; and that method 
 I adopted. 
 
 With a franknefs that charmed him, I ac- 
 cordingly enumerated every particular of my 
 jconnedlion with his fon, as well as of the 
 pecuniary obligations I lay under to his worthy 
 nephew Monfieur de St. Fal. This done, he 
 lavifhed upon me the warmeft afTurances of 
 his future friendihip and protection, and left 
 me in a labyrinth of perplexity, and of aftonifti- 
 ment. 
 
 In efFe£l, what could I divine ? — Was it 
 natural to think that the very man who had 
 exprefled fo much averfion to me could be thus 
 fuddenly changed ? — Was I not ftill the fame 
 Jenny, that little country girl, who had occa- 
 iioned fo much vexation to him about his fon, 
 
 and 
 
[ 67 J 
 
 and who had fince that impofed upon him under 
 a borrowed name ? 
 
 . During eight days that he conflantly vifited 
 me, he gave me not the fmalleft ground to 
 fufpecSt the probity of his intentions ;, for 
 though he fcrupled not to make love to me, yet 
 his behaviour was as full of refpedl, as if I had 
 been a woman of the firft quality. He then 
 took his leave of me with regret for a fort- 
 night, during which interval, the time hung 
 very heavy upon my hands, as I received no 
 further tidings of St. Fal, and of confequence 
 none of my lover ; who I no longer held in a 
 guilty light from the time I knew his life was 
 expofed, and for whofe fafety I wearied Heaven 
 every moment with my prayers. 
 
 As I fat down to my toilette, one morning, I 
 found in a little drawer, to my no fmall fur- 
 prife, a purfe full of gold, with a letter from 
 the old Marquis, acquainting me that it con- 
 tained a gratuity from the king of two thou- 
 fand livres, and that his majefty had fettled 
 upon me one thoufand yearly. This piece of 
 generofity, with the manner of doing it, con- 
 founded me, and was a very feafonable help to 
 me ; my ready money being almoft exhaufted, 
 from the afliftance 1 had given, though, un- 
 known, to my parents. 
 
 As I ftood very penfive at my Window, a 
 few days after this event, a coach flopped at 
 the door, which I knew belonged to the old 
 Marquis. I , ftarted without knowing why. 
 When he entered the room, he appeared very 
 forrowful, though he ftrove to conceal it. 
 
 Ah !*! 
 
r 68 ] 
 
 «* Ah I Jenny, Jenny," exclaln.'^d he, 
 throwing himfelf into a great chair, " how 
 cruelly do you make me feel my tendernefs for 
 my fon !" 
 
 Scarce had the old nobleman uttered thefe 
 words, when, concluding that my lover was no 
 more, a trembling feized me, and I fhrieked 
 out. I learned, however, that he was alive, but 
 dangeroufly wounded inr the head, after giving 
 fignal proofs of his courage, and that St. Fal 
 had been taken prifoner in a battle fought two 
 days after the preceding a6lion. 
 
 This melancholy news threw me into a fit of 
 ficknefs. The phyficians, fent for by the Mar- 
 quis, on the fourth day gave me over, unlefs 
 nature, by a prodigious effort, could (hake ofF 
 from about my heart the bile which was on the 
 point of fuffocating me. Nothing that I took 
 ftayed ; from whence they concluded that there 
 were no hopes left. 
 
 The old Marquis's prudence and refolution 
 doubtlefs preferved my life : feeing me given 
 over, he never left my bedfide» Among his 
 other contrivances, by which he evinced the 
 naoft affectionate folicitude for my recovery, he 
 caufed a courier, who had his inftru(5tions, to 
 come in boots, pretending he had juft arrived 
 from the army, and give an account aloud that 
 the young Marquis was on the road home, and 
 that as to his being dangeroufly wounded, it 
 was a miftake, he having only received a flight 
 contufion, which in four days was entirely 
 cured. * 
 
 Notwithftanding my lownefs of fpirits, and 
 z continued ky^r^ which took away my fpeech, 
 
 I could 
 
[ 69 J 
 
 I could hear what was faid, though opprefled 
 as I was, I did not refledl much upon it. 
 But when the courier delivered his meflage, a 
 fecret joy difFufed itfelf over my heart, and 
 freed it from the load with which it had been fa 
 long opprefled r 
 
 In about two days, I was judged to be out 
 of all danger, and my mind regained its ufual 
 tranquillity. After returning thanks to Heaven 
 for preferving my life, I made my acknowledg- 
 ments to the Marquis for the great tendernefs he 
 had fhewn to me. 
 
 He appeared overjoyed to find me in a fitua- 
 tion of mind that feemed to fecure againft a 
 relapfe ; affured me that he was entirely at- 
 tached to me ; ftill perfifted in feeding the falfe 
 hopes he had given me concerning his fon; 
 and, that I might be perfectly eafy as to that 
 point, was even fo complaifant as to forge letters 
 from him, and read them to me. 
 
 I'hree days more convinced me I was wholly 
 out of danger. He accordingly returned to 
 Verfailles, leaving a fervant at Paris, to bring 
 him an account of my health every day till his 
 return. 
 
 I was upon my feet again, and gathering 
 flrength, when at laft I received a letter from 
 St. Fal. I opened it with joy, expe(5^ing a 
 confirmation of the agreeable news which the 
 old Marquis had invented to pleafe me. But 
 alas ! it only confirmed the accounts I had 
 originally received of St. Fal's imprifonment, 
 the young Marquis's wounds, with frefh 
 proofs of the friendly regard of the former, 
 and the ftill unabated tendernefs of the latter. 
 
 What 
 
t 70 ] 
 
 What tears did not this pacquet cofl mtff 
 "What anxiety did I not undergo !' 
 
 " Surely," thought I, " no one was ever 
 thus often overwhelmed. Why will not de- 
 cency permit me to take a poft-chaife, By ro 
 the army, and convince my dear, my ftill 
 bleeding Marquis, that he alone is worthy of 
 my love, and capable of making me happy ?" 
 
 A thoufand projects prefented themfelves for 
 proving to the dear man my tendernefs and 
 conftancy, without hitting upon one expedient 
 to my liking. 
 
 At length I determined to requeft of M. 
 Melicourt (the lover of my dear friend St. 
 Agnes, whom I left behind me in the convent, 
 as I knew him to be devoted to my fervice) that 
 he would carry for me a letter to the Marquis j 
 but above all that he would, without difguife, 
 fend me an account of the condition he fhould 
 find him in, and of his behaviour on the re- 
 ceipt of my letter. 
 
 It is very juftly faid, that the manner of 
 conferring a benefit enhances the value of it. 
 Melicourt accepted of my commiffion with a 
 pkafurc, an eagernefs, that charmed me. Every 
 thing being concluded on during fupper, fuch 
 as it was, he fent his fervant for poft-horfes, 
 and fet out that very night j nor had more than 
 feven days elapfed, when I received a letter 
 from him, with one inclofed from my dear, my 
 beloved Marquis. 
 
 With what impatience did I open it ! He 
 told me that he was afTured of the compleat cure 
 of his wound in eight days ; that words could 
 not exprcfs his (gratitude fur my tender aneafi^ 
 
 ncfs 
 
[ 7* ] 
 n^fs about him, unmerited on his part after the 
 cruel injuftlce he had committed towards me ; 
 and that he waited for his recovery, and the 
 end of the campaign, with impatience, in 
 or<Ier to make me his, and to declare to his 
 father that he could no longer live without 
 me. 
 
 One moment's joy buries in oblivion all paft 
 fufFerings. Mine was compleat, arifmg from 
 the aflurances my dear Marquis gave me of 
 his afFedlions. At that inftant I vowed an un- 
 alterable pafjion, and an inviolable fidelity. It 
 feemed as if the letter was fent exprefsly to 
 fupport me againft the violent attacks that 
 were coming on. I ftood on the brink of the 
 greateft trial which I could polfibly undergo, 
 and which would require the utmofl ftretch of 
 my refojution, 
 
 I was muftng very agreeably on the happi- 
 nefs I had greater reafon than ever to expeci: 
 fuom thefe laft alluranx:es, when the old Mar- 
 quis was u/hered in, and when he very politely 
 defired to dine with me. 
 
 He appeared to be buried in thought ; and 
 after a long and puzzling preamble about my 
 virtue, my charms, his contempt of a noble 
 extra^ion, when it was unaccompanied with 
 innocence, and his veneration of a mean one, 
 when it was adorned with probity and honour, 
 he told me., that he had refolved I fhould foon. 
 be the Marchionefs of L V . 
 
 As yet I knew not what he really meant; 
 and, tranfported with gratitude and aftonifh- 
 ment, I threw myfelf at his feet without power 
 to thank him for a confeat I had fo long de- 
 
 f^red. 
 
T 72 ] 
 
 fired, and had fo little reafon to expe£l. But 
 it was not long before I difcovered my miftake— 
 difcovered, to my utter confufion and defpair, 
 that it was himfclf 1 was to confider as my 
 future hufband. I was fo thunder-ftruck with 
 this intelJigence, that it was with the greateft 
 difficulty 1 could command my countenance. 
 
 Every poflible objeiSlion I urged, but in 
 vain. My troubled mind reprefented to me 
 the behaviour of the fon on this fatal oc- 
 cafion. Would not he be made accountable 
 for my refufal I And might it not be expeded 
 that if I perfifted in that refufal, my lover alfo 
 might incur the difpleafure of the old Marquis, 
 and we might be fo feparated as never to fee each 
 other more ? 
 
 Thefe confiderations determined me to afFe£l 
 a compliance with his wifhes : I came readily 
 into every thing he propofed on the fubjedt of 
 our future wedding ; and nothing was talked of 
 but rejoicings and grandeur. He thought to 
 pleafe me by this pompous parade ; but alas ! 
 how different were my thoughts! I devoured my 
 fighs, and only waited for an opporrunity to give 
 them full fcope. 
 
 The chaife in which the Marquis was to re- 
 turn to Verfailles being at the door, he took 
 his leave of me with a deep figh. I returned 
 the beft anfwer I was able to his endearments ; 
 and as nothing is eafier than to impofe on a 
 man in love, he feemed to go away fully con- 
 tented, in order to ftay for eight days. 
 
 The moment I was alone, I {hut myfelf up 
 
 in my clofet, in order to come to a refolution 
 
 ivithout lofs of time, as 1 found that my old 
 
 3 lover. 
 
r 73 ] 
 
 lover was too deeply fmitten to wait long, and 
 that there was a probability he might return the 
 next minute, and carry me to one of his feats, 
 in order to tie the fatal knot. 
 
 Sometime before, I had difcovered, by a vifit 
 which my father and mother made to her, that 
 Barbara, my cook-maid, to whom on that ac- 
 count, I behaved with the utmofl tendernefs 
 and indulgence, was no other than my own 
 aunt, being a fifter of the former. I had been 
 fo long abfent from them, and was fo greatly 
 altered, that neither of them had known me ; 
 and I thought it hardly poffible that the Gran- 
 gers of the village would be more quick-fighted 
 than they had been. 
 
 With them therefore I determined to fix my 
 retreat ; concluding that my native refidence 
 would be the moft improbable fpot in the world 
 for the old Marquis to fearch for me. 
 
 From him, of all men, it was neceiTary to 
 conceal the new place of my abode, I fore- 
 faw that, after my flight was known, I muft 
 expe<Sl the utmoft effedls of his rage, juftly as 
 he would be exafperated to meet with fuch a re- 
 turn for all his favours, and convincing proofs 
 of afFediion. From love to hatred I well knew 
 to be a common change, cfpecially when at- 
 tended with defpair. 
 
 This project gave me great content ; and no 
 fooner had I formed it than I thought of the 
 means of putting it in execution. I concluded 
 that my firft fl-ep ought to be to write to the 
 young Marquis an account of his father's defign, 
 my behaviour on the occafion^ and the retire- 
 ment I had chofen. 
 
 H I told 
 
[ 74 ] _ 
 
 1 told him that in expectation of Heaven's 
 appointing me fome fettlement, I was going to 
 preferve a heart which fhould ever be wholly 
 iis. I comforted him on occafion of our dif- 
 appointments, and hegged him to imitate my 
 refolution in the vexations we might ftill meet 
 with. In a word, I poured out my heart in this 
 letter, which I extended to fuch a length, that it 
 took up beft part of the night. — In writing to 
 a perfon beloved, one never has faid enough, 
 ^nd the time employed flips away infeniibly. 
 
 I was fo fatigued when I flniflied my epiftljc 
 that I was obliged to go to bed. 1 ftarted 
 ieveral times out of my fleep, fancying that the 
 old Marquis was come with a defign to carry 
 ine iiKo the country, and conclude the cruel 
 jnarriage. My imagination was fo difturbed that 
 it ran on nothing elfe. 
 
 The firft thing I did in the morning, after 
 Teccmmending myfelf and my affairs to Hea- 
 ven, was to write to St. Fal ; my obligations 
 to him rendered this an indifpenfible duty. 
 The contents of my letter were much the fame 
 with what I had written to the Marquis; lefsJ 
 could not do for fo fmcere and tender a friend. 
 
 Barbara (my faithful aunt Barbara, whom I 
 propofed to be the companion of my flight, but 
 who little knew who it was fhe ferved) had 
 hardly returned from the pofi, when a mefTtn- 
 ger came from the old Marquis with a letter 
 and a bafket. The letter was iilJed with the 
 ftrongeft all u ranees of his tcndernefs, and the 
 baflict contained a rich toilette with all its ap- 
 purtenances of gilt plate ; in one of the fquares 
 of which I found five hundred louis-d'ors. 
 
 In 
 
[ 75 I 
 
 In two days the preparations for my journey 
 were completed ; previous to which, I wrote a 
 letter to my old lover, intimating the neceility 
 I thought myfelf under of acquainting him of 
 my refolution to retire, the fenfe I entertained 
 €f my un worth inefs to enjoy the honour of 
 being his wife ; and concluding with my warm- 
 eft acknowledgments for the magnificent toi- 
 lette he had been pleafed to beftov^r upon me, 
 which I dared not return for fear of difobliging 
 him, and could with no propriety take with me,. 
 confidering the ftep I had taken; that therefore 
 the perfon in v/hofe care I had left my afFairs 
 would carry it to his Lordfhip, whenever he 
 ihould be pleafed to give orders for that pur- 
 pofe, with the money it contained. I gave him, 
 at the fame time, the moft fervent proteftations 
 of refpe6l and gratitude, with every afTurance 
 that I fhould continually offer up my vows for 
 his precious life. 
 
 At four in the morning, I (ct off with Bar- 
 bara, who was tranfported with joy at the 
 thoughts of her native village, and arrived in- 
 fafety at my father's next day ; where, with the 
 little furniture I had ordered to follov/ me, I 
 found myfelf commodioufly fituated, and better 
 perhaps than I deferved. 
 
 As I alighted, my agitation was fo great, and 
 my mind fo troubled, that though I found my 
 parents had no fufpicion who I was, yet I was- 
 not able to give any anfwer to the many obliging 
 things they faid to welcome me to their cottage. 
 
 How little, after all, did the village now ap- 
 pear to me ! — That village, which Barbara- 
 had made fo great a boaft of to me, and which I 
 Hz had 
 
t 76 ] 
 
 had reprefented to myfelf fo full of charms, 
 now appeared wretched and miferablc. The 
 tears came ; and, deaf to reafon, I regretted 
 the delightful abode I had quitted. Childilh 
 prejudices were vanifhed. I was familiarifed 
 with grandeur. To advance is more agreeable 
 than to go back. — How fh all I exprefs m- 
 lelf ? — I was fool enough to be humbled at the 
 mcannefs which furrounded me. And why ? 
 — Becaufe I was enamoured of oftentation !— 
 Becaufe I was vain ! — Becaufe my little know- 
 Jedge of the world had infected me ! 
 
 On my firft going into the houfe, my mo- 
 ther made a motion which frightened me, from 
 an apprehenficn that I was difcovered. — I now 
 jearnt that my face made fuch an impreffion 
 upon her (becaufe being in an undrefs, I was 
 lefs unlike what I had formerly been) that fhe 
 was on the point of taking rne about the neck. 
 But it went no farther than a fright, and I was 
 immediately conducted to my little apartments, 
 confiding of one room, and one bed-chamber. 
 
 Though pretty fafe, as I thought myfelf, 
 with regard to my father and mother, and 
 mu<:h more fo as to my fifter ; yet .Colin, the 
 young fellow who had been fo fond of me, 
 could he behold me without being moved ? The 
 imprelTions of nature are deep, it is true j but 
 daily experience fhows that time will wear them 
 out. It is not fo with the ideas engraved in the 
 heart by love; as the palTion is ftronger, the trace 
 is deeper, and confequently out-lafts the other. 
 
 Be this at it may, I baniflied all fuch fears ; 
 for I was now fo much grown, as well as my 
 features altered, that I imagined nobody would 
 
 know 
 
r 77 3 
 
 know^me ; at leaft I was willing to flatter my- 
 felffo. 
 
 One difficulty ftill remained ; the Marquis • 
 might return, and be defirous of difcourfmg 
 with me. He had been feen there before, and 
 his prefence and vifits might recall thofe ideas 
 which were but too carefully laid up ; all • 
 which put together, Jenny might be found to be 
 one who was defirous to pafs for fomebody elfe. 
 
 This I imagined might happen ; and certainly 
 had in a (hort time^ but that the Marquis ap- 
 prehended the fame thing, 
 
 I had been near a month at my father's with- 
 out hearing a word from my lover; this had' 
 thrown me into an uneaflnefs v/hich was fre- 
 quently attended with tears ; when my mother 
 told me one morning that a man juft alighted' 
 from horfeback: defired to fpeak with me, faying 
 he had letters to deliver. 
 
 I fhook at hearing this, concluding he came 
 from the young Marquis ; and my heart told • 
 me I was not miftaken. I defired he might be 
 brought to me, and retired to another apart- 
 ment, that I might be at liberty to talk with 
 the mefTenger, in cafe he fliould have any thing , 
 piarticular to fay. 
 
 Seeing it was not Dubois, as I expelled,., 
 I received his packet, without obferving any 
 thing particular but a large plaifter upon his • 
 forehead; and, giving him a crown^ IdifmifTed' 
 him to the public-houfe to wait for my.anfwer. 
 
 How great was my furprife, on opening it^ 
 to find that it contained only thefe words 
 in the Marquis's hand,, " The bearer will tell 
 you the reft 1" 
 
 H 3 I wa^^ 
 
[ 78 1 
 I was juft running out of the room to call 
 him back, when 1 found him before me upon 
 his knees. I flarted, feeing that it was my 
 dear Marquis, threw myfelf fpeechlefs about 
 his neck, and almoft fwooned away with ex- 
 cefs of joy. 
 
 When our firft tranfports were fomewhat 
 abated, he told me, that I needed be under no 
 apprehenfion for appearances, as he had given 
 himfelf out for my brother, which might the 
 iiiore readily pafs, as the villagers, from the 
 patch upon his forehead, which he ftill wore in 
 confequence of his late wound, could notpoiTibly 
 recollect his features. 
 
 Upwards of eight days did we pafs thus in 
 happinefs as brother and fifter, when, for fear 
 of a difcovery, the Marquis found himfelf under 
 a neceflityof leaving me. 
 
 My lover was no fooner gone, than I gave 
 a loofe to tears, and to complaints. 
 
 ''When," cried 1, " Ihall I again behold 
 this dear man ? What will be the event of fo 
 tender, and fo unfortunate a pafJion ? Are 
 we only enamoured of each other to be conti- 
 nually parting?" 
 
 The old Marquis next came Into my thoughts. 
 I imagined him acquainted with my place of 
 retreat, and accofting me with fury in his eyes. 
 *' Take your choice," he feemed to fay, 
 ** either me or a cloifter : it is in vain for you 
 to place your confidence in my fon ; he cannot 
 aflilt you, nor fhall ever be yours. You ought 
 to tremble at the thoughts of provoking me, 
 as you muii both pay very dear for the advantage 
 he has guiiied.'' 
 
 Thefe 
 
C 79 ] 
 
 Thefe imaginations were h ftrong and lively 
 that I fhook with fear. — Alas ! it was in vain 
 to have recourfe to Heaven ; it was deaf to 
 my entreaties. Can a heart fo ftrongly attach- 
 ed to this world, expe<St relief from above ? — • 
 No, it is not worthy ; to deferve it, one ought 
 to be afhamed of fuch weakneffes. But my 
 ftrength failed me. Love had fo cruelly over- 
 whelmed me, that nothing but what occa- 
 fioned my diftrefs could pofTibly relieve me ; 
 in a word, I found no comfort, but in lighs and 
 in tears. 
 
 Three days were fpent in continual grief and 
 apprehenfion. The whole family, aftonifhed 
 at my profound melancholy, ftrove to divert me, 
 but in vain ; the penfivenefs which had feized> 
 was proof againft every thing. 
 
 On the fourth day in the morning, my mo- 
 ther came into my chamber, faying, that a^ 
 chaife had flopped at the door, and that a 
 ftranger afked to fpeak with me. I defired he 
 might be fent in. 
 
 How was I overjoyed and furprifed when I 
 found it was Dubois, who brought a letter to 
 me from his young mafter, and who, the better 
 to conceal his features, which were fo well- 
 known in the village, had come difguifed with 
 afalfe nofe ! 
 
 I trembled while I opened the Marquis's let- 
 ter. But what horror did I feel when I read 
 that his father lay at the point of death, brought 
 to that extremity by himfelf and me ; and that 
 he called for me, declaring he would die in 
 peace, if he died with the name of my huf- 
 band. He added, that he could not be fo bar- 
 I barous 
 
f 80 ] 
 
 barous as to let a father perifh, if it was in his- 
 power to fave him ^ and concluded by conjuring 
 me, if ever I was dear to him, to haften to his 
 father's, as the delay of one minute might ren- 
 der him the moft guilty of men. 
 
 "What is it to me ?" cried I, redoubling 
 my tears, when I had finifhed this cruel letter, 
 *' Let the cruet parent die : am I to be anfwer- 
 able for the fury of his paflion, and the fatal 
 condition to which it has reduced him r — And 
 you, my fond Marquis, what have I done to 
 deferve this treatment ? — Juft Heaven ! was it 
 for this, you referved me ? — And you, deftruc- 
 tive charms, to what have you brought me ?'* 
 
 On uttering thefe words, I found myfelf fo 
 overwhelmed, that, unlefs Dubois had fup- 
 ported me, I muft have fwooned away. 
 
 The Marquis had doubtlefs forefeen the con- 
 dition to which his letter would reduce me. 
 His valet de chambre pulled out a phial, whofe. 
 precious elixir cruelly reftored me to myfelf. 
 
 "Alas !" cried I to Dubois, " why would 
 you not fuffer me to die ? Why do you give me 
 this barbarous relief? Like a criminal dragged 
 to the torture, you ftrcngthen me only that the 
 feverity of the ftrokes may be the more fenfible.*' 
 
 Dubois, as much as he was prepared for fucli 
 a fcenc, was fo deje6led that he was fcarce able 
 to comfort me. 
 
 " In the name of all that is dear to you, 
 Mademoifelle," faid he, " bear up againft this 
 ftorm ; tliink what a condition I left my mafter 
 in : if you knew — '* 
 
 <' Alas !" interrupted I, " it is that which 
 diflraib me. If 1 fufiered alone, the near 
 
 pio- 
 
[ 8i ] 
 
 prorpe(5t of death would alleviate my gnef; 
 but the confidcration of my dear lover protra£ls 
 my defpair, ai-nl with-holds my fleeting life. 
 What would become of him ? Alas ! if he 
 dreads the approach of a death, whofe idea 
 makes him tremble, and obliges him to facrifice 
 all that is deareft to him in the world, what 
 would become of this faithful lover, to what 
 extremities would he not be hurried, if he had 
 my death to lament, of which he might juftly 
 think himfelf the caufe ?" 
 
 After faying this I remained exceedingly pen- 
 five ; but coming to myfelf, " Let us go," 
 cried I; "this lover, whom I adore^ fliall 
 know how extenfive a power he has over me.— 
 I had nothing but myfelf to give him, and of 
 that he has long been mafter ; let him difpofe 
 of me as he will ; fubmillive I obey. Yes, he 
 fhall know, by the greatnefs of the facrifice, 
 that though I am infinitely below him in every 
 thing elfe, I am not, however, his inferior in 
 point of generofity of fentiment; and that 
 whatever example he can fet, I am always ready 
 to imitate him." 
 
 Dubois, furprifed at this eiFort, applauded 
 my refolution with tears in his eyes ; and I im- 
 mediately ordered Barbara (with fternnefs in- 
 deed, though for the firft time in my life) to get 
 my things ready for my journey. The word was 
 no fooner given, than the whole family was in 
 tears at the thoughts of lofing me, and apprehen- 
 fions that they were themfelves the caufe of it. 
 
 " No," faid I, addreffing myfelf to my mo- 
 ther, whofe diftrefs on the occafion ftill height- 
 ened my own, " I tear myfelf from you, God 
 
 k 
 
[ 82 ] 
 
 h my wltnefs ; an order I am bound to oBf^y^ 
 an unfortunate accident, drives me from this 
 delightful abode. — Oh ! could I fpend my days 
 with you !"^ 
 
 With tbefe words, I embraced my mother 5 
 my father out of refpetEl withdrew. 
 
 '* Alas !" laid !_, talcing him about the neck^ 
 *' fufFcr me to fhew how dear yoti are to me. 
 Perhaps a little time will convince you I do but 
 my duty." 
 
 I got into the chaife, leaving my father aud 
 mother not a little furprifcd, though pleafcd 
 with my endearing behaviour. 
 
 On my arrival at the Marquis's, I found my 
 lover waiting for me, pale, dejedled, and as if 
 ke had been fliedding tears. With a deep figh. 
 he took me by the hand and fqueezed it. As 
 we palled along the apartments, he attempted 
 to fpeak, but could not utter a fmgle word 5. 
 and when we reached that of the old Marquis, 
 he again fqueezed my hand, again fighed, and 
 left me to go to his father's bed-fide by myfejf^ 
 while he advanced, and, in faultering accents, 
 told him, that I was come to offer him my hand 
 in perfon. " Son, I am fatisfied," cried he,, 
 in a weak voice, hke that of a perfon in extre- 
 mity ; and remained filcnt, as if unable to fpeak, 
 any more, 
 
 With a fign he ordered one of his attendants 
 to condu6l me to the apartment defigned for 
 me ; whither I followed him with a fwollen. 
 heart, but courageoufly refifting the tears that 
 ever and anon were ready to ftart. I was 
 hardly drcfled in the morning, when a meflage 
 came from the old Marquis, defiring the favour 
 
 of 
 
[ 83 ] 
 
 of my company as foon as poflible, I trembled 
 every joint at a requeft I confidered as an or- 
 ^er i and the more, when I was told that it 
 was to be prefent at the reading of the con- 
 tradt for our marriage, my old lover being de- 
 termined to complete his happinefs without delay« 
 
 Every thing was now ready for the fatal cere- 
 mony. The prieft was in the houfe ; and I 
 was on the point of ftretching out my hand, 
 when refolution yielding to nature, a fhivering 
 feifed my limbs, a cold dewy fweat overfpread 
 my body, I gave a loud ftiriek, and fell to the 
 ground in a fwoon. 
 
 A fever-, which brought me to the laft ex« 
 tremity, was the confequence of this dreadful 
 ftruggle. My lover alfo was taken ill upon my 
 fainting away, and talked and raved perpe- 
 tually of me, for the fpace of three weeks ; 
 when my recovery produced a complete cure 
 upon him. 
 
 The old Marquis, during this interval, had 
 T-etired to the country for the benefit of the air, 
 and had feemingly relinquifhed his matrimo- 
 jiial project. Before his departure, he waited 
 upon me, to inform me that we fliould fee each 
 other again foon, and that in the mean while 
 he would fend a Lady to keep me company^ 
 whom 1 would be gkd to -fee. 
 
 I could not imagine who it could be; and 
 when I found by her appearance that very day 
 
 that it was Madame de G ;, I fcreamed 
 
 with joy^ and opened my arms to receive her^ 
 After two hours fpent in mutual endearments, 
 
 Madame de G , finding me in a conditiou 
 
 to go abroad, made a propoial to me to accom- 
 pany 
 
C 84 .] 
 
 pany her Into the country ; and I accepted it 
 with an afFedlionate embrace, fomething whif- 
 pering to me, at the fame time, that the journey 
 would be fortunate. 
 
 Monfieur de G (who now led a life of 
 
 great regularity^ and made one of the befl of 
 hulbands) received me moft cordially, and gave 
 me to underftand I fhould have good company. 
 I could not conceive what he meant ; for it 
 muft be obferved he was full as myfterious as 
 
 my good mamma Madame de G , neither he 
 
 jior (he fo much as mentioning the Marquis of 
 L V to me. 
 
 After I had retired to the apartment defigned 
 for me, in order to change my clothes, Ma- 
 dame de G came to me to know if I was 
 
 ready to fee fome company jufl: arrived. I an- 
 fwered, by rifing and meeting the old Marquis, 
 who entered the room, accompanied by Mon- 
 fieur de G , my lover, and St. Fal ; who, 
 
 to my great joy, having procured his ranfom, 
 was now returned to his family and frienda. 
 The colour came into my face ; little did I 
 expe£l fo ceremonious a vifit. The old Mar- 
 quis complimented me upon having recovered 
 ©f my illnefs, handfomer, as he was pleafed 
 to fay, than ever. On my part, 1 returned 
 compliment for compliment, and wifhed him 
 joy of his good looks. 
 
 Silence enfued (after a little general conver- 
 ("ation upon our paft indifpofition) becaufe the 
 old Marquis was mute, and feemingly abforbed 
 in thought. 1 trembled, and knew not what 
 to think of it. My lover's father at length 
 afked Monfieur de G if he had given or- 
 ders 
 
[ 85 ] 
 <krs that we fhould not be interrupted ; to 
 which being anfwered in the affirmitive, he 
 faid, " It is well :" then, calling his eyes on me, 
 thus he expreffed himlelf. 
 
 '' It is high time, dear Jenny, to put an 
 end to your troubles, and to crown your vir- 
 tue. You certainly merit a fortune fuperior 
 to that which you are on the point of enjoy- 
 ing. Of. this I have long been convinced, 
 and you are accordingly dear to me. But, with 
 all your good qualities, I fliould never have 
 decided in your favour out of motives of con- 
 venience, and fuch as regard me perfonally, 
 had it not been for the proofs you have given 
 me of your elevated fentiraents. Thofe proofs 
 have been hitherto a myftery, and I will firft of 
 all explain it to you. 
 
 " I knew the paffion you entertained for my 
 fon, as well as the excefs of his toward you. 
 It would have been too great a facrifice in me 
 to have approved of your mutual flame, with- 
 out an afilirance of your being worthy of it.— . 
 What means did I employ to find that out ?— 
 Why I gave you both an opportunity of facri- 
 ficing that paffion to me, which from its birth 
 had created fo much uneafmefs to me. 
 
 " I would fatisfy myfelf by a trial arifing 
 from my fon's heart, whether he defervcd that I 
 fhould forget my own rank, and the public cen- 
 fure, out of complaifance to him ; and whether 
 I was beloved by him fufficiently to yield up 
 to me all that was mofl dear to me in the world. 
 
 *' If I difcover in my fon (faid I to myfelf, 
 
 contriving the means that were to convince me) 
 
 -that he loves me well enough to renounce what 
 
 I he 
 
[ 86 ] . 
 
 he doats on, then he deferves that I fhould con- 
 fert to his happinefs. 
 
 ^ What I am going to fay will furprife you, 
 Jenny (continued he) when you call to mind 
 all the Heps 1 feemed to take to gain your fa- 
 vour, and the propofals I made to marry yon. 
 But he not deceived ; it was only to try your 
 charader to the bottom, and whether a fortune 
 in prcfent was capable of tempting your vanity^ 
 Young people are fo often enfnared by objedls, 
 artful in bringing about their own ends, that 
 I v/ould not fuffer my fon to run the rifque 
 of repenting his having given himfelf up to 
 one. It is for that reafon I watched you fo nar- 
 rowly, and endeavoured by all poflible means 
 to difcover the inmoft recefies of your foul. 
 
 " In this refpe6l I have reafon to be fatisfied 
 with my difccveries. But tliis was not fuffi- 
 cient to determine me* I wanted to know what 
 difpofition my fon was in ; and if I had not 
 received information by other means of the 
 place of your concealment, I fhould have be- 
 gun by obligino; my fon to difcover you, and 
 to deliver you into my hands. Had I prevailed, 
 I fhould have been fatis£ed ; I fliould have 
 faved both of you the many hazards you have 
 run. But Heaven, which has punifhed my pre- 
 fumption in endeavouring to penetrate, like itfelf, 
 the heart of man, after fhewin<y mc the danger 
 my fon incurred, has been pleafed to reftorc 
 him to me, and to preferve for him a trea- 
 fure in which his life was wrapped up, and 
 which was ever deftined to be his. 
 
 *' To compafs my ends, dear Jenny, that fit 
 of ficknefs, which to every one appeared to 
 be real—" 
 
[ 8/ ] 
 
 « How !" interrupted my lover, kiHing his 
 father's hand ; " the cruel condition in which I 
 faw you, and which the whole town talked of,. 
 was it nothing but a feint ?" 
 
 " Yes^ fon," replied the Marquis, " it was 
 all a pretence. But let me go on ; every thing 
 iliall be made clear. 
 
 " It was not difficult for me," continued this 
 artful nobleman, " to aft the part in queftion. 
 My fervants know my humour ; they know too 
 that I will be obeyed, and that I never forgive 
 indifcreet talk. With the affiftance of two of 
 thefe, therefore, and my furgeon, who were 
 the only perfons that had occafion to approach 
 me, it was no hard matter to make the reft of 
 the world believe v/hatever I pleafed, 
 
 " Such was the myftery. My fon has (hewn- 
 himfeif worthy of what he is. He generoufly 
 relinquiilied what was moft dear to him to 
 preferve his father's life ; nor was I more af- 
 fefted with this facrifice, than I was delighted 
 with your complaifance for my fon. That 
 day, when nature prevailed over your generous 
 refolution, was I on the point of rewarding 
 you ; you were then going to be united. One 
 minute later, my fon had taken the place I 
 feemed to occupy. Your fainting away, O 
 my dear Jenny, prevented this ftroke, preme- 
 ditated with fo much pleafure. — How much 
 did I repent, from the dread of lofmg you both, 
 my not difcovering myfelf fooner ! 
 
 *' But Heaven (added the worthy Mar- 
 quis) which I have implored fo much in your 
 behalf, by reftoring you to me, has put it in 
 my power to finifh what I have begun. — Ap- 
 I 2 proach. 
 
[ 88 ] 
 proach, then, my dear fon (cried he, riTmg, 
 and taking me by the hand) approach, and 
 be happy. I give you Jenny ; and in making 
 you this prefent, 1 reckon I once more give 
 you life." 
 
 As he uttered thefe laft words we both fell 
 at his feet. As for me, I found myfelf fo op- 
 prcffed, fo over-joyed, fo full of I knew not 
 what, that it is impofTible for me to defcribe 
 truly what ftate I was in. The old Marquis 
 himfelf dropped a tear ; and Monfieur and 
 
 Madame de G , with St. P'al, cordiallyjoin- 
 
 ed in the afFeding fcen©-. 
 
 After a {hort paufe, the Marquis made my 
 lover and me rife, and take our places. Thus 
 he again addrefTed himfelf to us. 
 
 " If you are fatisfied, my dear children, 
 truly I am not lefs fo myfelf. But this is not 
 alv/ays fufficient : decency muft be obferved. I 
 have taken my meafures fo well, that the world 
 fhall be for ever ignorant of the real origin of 
 my daughter-in-law. I do not mention this to 
 humble her ; {\\q is greater by her virtuey and 
 her fine qualifications, than a vain birth can 
 make her. Confidering, however, what flaves 
 we are to prejiidice, 1 thought I might lawfully 
 employ a ftratagem to impofe upon thofe of 
 my rank. Jenny (hall appear well-born ; and 
 notv/ithftanding they bid the banns this day in 
 h^r village, I have contrived matteis fo that 
 they cannot difcover my fecret. — In fine, every 
 thing is ready for the celebration of a marriage 
 fo much dcfired. 
 
 *' It remains, however, that I inform you 
 (continued the worthy old Marquis, addrefling 
 
 hini- 
 
 I 
 
[ 89 ] 
 
 himfelf to me, in order to make every thing 
 clear) that being undetermined whither to carry 
 you, I had recourfe to my old friends Monfieur 
 
 and Aiadame de G , as perfons on whom 
 
 I might depend. I knew the obligations you 
 Jay under to them, and that idea feemed (o 
 Suitable, that I went immediately and ac- 
 quainted them of the affair, recommending fe- 
 crecy. I was very apprehenfive of its taking 
 air. After caufmg fo much diftrefs, and being 
 the author of fo much care and anxiety to thefe 
 poor children, I thought it but juft to referve 
 to myfelf the charming fatisfa6i:ion of being 
 the firft to inform them of their happinefs." 
 
 Thus did the old Marquis conclude his de- 
 lightful harangue. It renewed our marks of 
 acknowledgment : my heart was full ; but I 
 dared not give fuch lively proofs of it as my 
 lover. He threw himfelf twenty times at his 
 father's feet, kiffed his hands as often, and fpoke 
 to him in the tendereft and fondeft manner. 
 
 '' After a proper time fpent in thefe tran- 
 fports, the old Marquis told me, that my fa- 
 ther and mother were come ; that he had fent 
 for them, in order to be prefent at my nuptials ; 
 but that I was to give them to underftand they 
 were to return no more to their cottage, it being 
 of the laft confequence in the meafuxes he had 
 taken to conceal who I was. 
 
 " They ihall lofe nothing by the bargain, 
 faid he to me fmiling. — I give you my eftate of 
 
 ¥ A , which is a hundred leagues off, 
 
 and which yields twenty thoufand livres a year. 
 There you fnall live with them, and your huf- 
 band, till I think proper to have you nearer me* 
 
 There 
 
[ 90 ] 
 There, too, your father and mother fhall remain, 
 and be lords and mailers, as an atonement to 
 them for the lofs of their own country. You 
 will have time enough to inflrucl them in their 
 journey how they muft behave," 
 
 It is not difficult to afrume an air of eafe, 
 when one is fo efFeclually. — How fenfible was I 
 of fo much goodnefs ! — Should I endeavour to 
 e^iprefs it, the tafk would be endlefs. 
 
 Hitherto I never had an opportunity of own- 
 ing to the old Marquis that Barbara was my 
 aunt ; I did it nov/. 
 
 *^ Well," continued the dear and worthy fa- 
 ther of my lover, '« fo much the better j we 
 iliail render one mere perfon happy." 
 
 Madame de G , finding we had fald 
 
 every thing we had to fay, propofed going to 
 fuppcr. Every one was willing enough j and as 
 nothing gives a better appetite than joy, it will 
 be eafily inr.agined that neither the Marquis nor I 
 wanted a flomaclv. 
 
 At table I could read Impatience in his eyes.. 
 ^-Muft I blufh to own I felt the fame emotion I 
 —I was certainly excufable. Befides, I was in 
 continual dread of fome unforefeen event which 
 might crufli all my hopes. I had experienced fo 
 many difappointments,^ that I was habituated to- 
 expert no day could pafe without them. But I 
 was miftaken ; every thing has its time ; ill for- 
 tune itfelf will at laft be weary of perfecuting us. 
 
 The moment fupper was done, I ffew to my 
 apartment, and locked myfelf up with my fa- 
 ther, my mother,, and my aunt Barbara. — I im- 
 mediately fell at their feet, owning myfelf their 
 daughter and niece^ afking pardon for my 
 
 not 
 
[ 9» ] 
 
 aaot dlfcovering myfelf fooner, and alledglng the 
 reafons of it in a lliort but fuccinil manner. 
 
 The reader muft imagine their furprife and 
 tranfport. They actually cried for joy, when I 
 acquainted them of the happinefs defigned for me* 
 
 " God be praifed!" exclaimed my mother 
 fometimes, preffing my cheeks to hers. Then 
 ^gain, " I always told you, hufband, fhe would 
 prove a good girl. — ^" 
 
 Our time was too fhort to be employed in 
 thefe mutual endearments. I told them in two 
 words what was intended for them j then pro- 
 pofed to my dear aunt, who could fcarce per- 
 fuade herfelf I was her niece, either to follow 
 me, or return to her beloved village, offering 
 her my father's houfe, and to buy a piece of 
 land to it. 
 
 " No, jio," faid fhe very honeflly, '< I am 
 for no village where you are not to be, my dear 
 niece, fmce providence will have me to call you 
 fo. Your fecret would be well kept truly, were 
 I to return to my village ! — To be plain with 
 you, 1 fhould hunt out every gofTip in the place, 
 beginning with Mr. Curate, to he fure, as our 
 betters muft be ferved firft.. — I am old Teli- truth." 
 
 I could not forbear fmiling at her artlefs fim- 
 plicity ; neverthelefs, for my fake (well know- 
 ing her natural talkativenefs) I earneftly entreat- 
 ed her to be on her guard. Her anfwer was, 
 that I had nothing to fear, while Ihe was out of 
 her own village, as I had experienced from the 
 time file had lived with me ; and indeed in fay- 
 ing this, (lie laid no more than the truth. 
 
 While yet we were together, fomebody knock- 
 ed at the door. It was the impatient Marquis. 
 
 " Every 
 I 
 
[ 9^ 
 
 « Every thing is ready," faid he through the 
 keyhole ; ** they wait for you." 
 
 The door being opened, he catched me round 
 the neck, and kilFed me with fo much eagernefs 
 that I blufhed exceedingly. 
 
 " Nay," faid he, '< you muft not be angry 
 now." 
 
 With thefe words, he embraced my father, 
 mother, and aunt, calling them by thofe names; 
 and concluded with faying to me, " What is it 
 we Itay for?" 
 
 His abrupt impatience made me fmile ; and, 
 in a word, with a light heart I followed him to 
 the church, where every thing was ready to 
 unite us for ever. 
 
 At length, then, were my dear Marquis and I 
 happily united in the indiffoluble bands of wed- 
 lock. What did not follow from that charming 
 ceremony ! — I am filent. — Suffice it to obferve, 
 that it is ever frefli in my memory. 
 
 The old Marquis's fcheme was followed to a 
 tittle. Our carriage occafioned various fpecula- 
 tions and furmifes ; but they made no impreffion 
 upon my dear Marquis or me, entirely as we 
 were taken up with promoting our own happi- 
 nefs. 
 
 Two fons and a daughter have been the fruit 
 of our mutual loves. Amidft the great world, 
 my family employs all my time ; there centers 
 all my happinefs. My hufband is ever tender, 
 complaifant, and fond. — Say, Reader, can I 
 conclude with a more interefting, and a more 
 endearing circumflance .? 
 
 FINIS.- 
 
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